1835.]
	The	Philosophy	ofPutlry.
	feelings	are	conveyed	in	a	melodious
	succession	of	tones,	and	in	a	mea-
	sured	flow	of	words	;	our	thoughts
	(and	in	a	greater	degree	the	less
	they	are	accompanied	with	feeling)
	are	conveyed	in	irregular	periods,
	and	at	harsh	intervals	of	tone.	Blank
	verse	and	rhyme	are	but	more	arti-
	ficial	dispositions	of	the	natural	expres-
	sions	of	feeling.	They	are	adapted	to
	the	expression	of	feeling,	i.	e.,	suit-
	able	for	poetry	but	not	necessary
	to	it.	They	do	not	constitute	poetry
	when	they	do	not	express	feel-
	ing.	The	propositions	of	Euclid,	the
	laws	of	Justinian,	the	narratives	of
	Hume,	might	be	thrown	into	as	ela-
	borate	verse	as	ever	Pope	or	Dar-
	win	composed	;	but	they	would
	never,	even	in	that	shape,	be	taken
	for	poetry,	unless	so	far	as	a	certain
	structure	of	words	is	a	natural	indi-
	cation	of	feeling.	Indeed,	when	there
	is	a	possibility,	from	the	nature	of
	the	subject,	that	feeling	may	be	ex-
	cited,	the	use	of	a	measured	struc-
	ture	of	words,	and	a	harmonious	in-
	flection	of	tones,	implies	that	the
	speaker	is	in	a	state	'of	feeling;	and
	hence	what	he	utters	we	should	de-
	nominate	poetry.
	And	in	this	behold	the	true	refi-
	son	why	verse	and	poetry	pass	in
	common	discourse	for	synonymous
	terms	verse,	especially	vvhea	reci-
	ted	in	the	modulations	of	voice	re-
	quisite	to	give	it	i	ts	proper	effect,	pos-
	sessing	necessarily	the	peculiar	qua-
	lities	which	distinguish	an	expression
	of	feeling.	Hence	it	may	perhaps	be
	truly	said,	that	though	all	poetry	is
	not	verse,	all	serious	verse	is	poetry
	poetry	in	its	kind,	at	least,	if	not
	of	the	degree	of	excellence	to	which
	we	may	choose	to	limit	the	designa-
	tion.	1	say,	all	serious	verse	be-
	cause	a	great	part	of	the	amusement
	we	find	in	humorous	and	burlesque
	poetry,	arises	from	the	incongruity
	observed	between	the	language
	that	of	feeling	and	the	subject,
	which	may	not	only	have	no	ten-
	dency	to	excite	such	feeling,	but	to
	excite	a	feeling	of	an	opposite	kind.
	But	that	although	verse,	generally
	speaking,	is	poetry	poetry	may	ex-
	831
	ist	without	verse	(although	never
	without	rhythmical	language),	is
	evident	from	a	reference,	for	ex-
	ample,	to	the	compositions	ascribed
	to	Ossian,	which	none	would	deny
	to	be	poetry.
	These	considerations	explain	how
	that	which,	in	its	original	language,
	is	poetry,	becomes,	in	a	translation,
	however	exactly	and	properly	con-
	veying	the	meaning,	the	merest
	prose.	The	following	translation	of
	Horace,	by	Smart,	conveys	the	exact
	meaning	of	the	original.	Why,	then,	is
	it	not	poetry	?	(For	who	would	ever
	take	it	for	poetry	?)	Simply,	be-
	cause	it	is	not	formed	into	the	rhyth-
	mical	periods,	and	thence	does	not
	suggest	the	melodious	inflections	in
	which	we	convey	emotion.	And	it
	is	yet	in	our	power,	by	speaking	it
	in	a	feeling	manner,	to	give	it	the
	character	of	poetry	:
	"	The	royal	edifices	will,	in	a	short
	time,	leave	but	a	few	acres	for	the
	plough.	Ponds	of	wider	extent	than
	theLucrine	lake,	will	be	every	where
	to	be	seen;	and	the	barren	plane-
	tree	will	supplant	the	elms.	Then
	banks	of	violets,	and	myrtle	groves,
	and	all	the	tribe	of	nosegays,	shall
	diffuse	their	odours	in	the	olive
	plantations,	which	were	fruitful	to
	their	preceding	master.	Then	the
	dense	boughs	of	the	laurel	shall	ex-
	clude	the	burning	beams.	It	was	not
	so	prescribed	by	the	institutes	of
	Romulus,	and	the	unshaven	Cato,
	and	ancient	custom.	Their	private
	revenue	was	contracted,	while	that
	of	the	community	was	great.	No
	private	men	were	then	possessed	of
	ten-foot	galleries,	which	collected
	the	shady	northern	breezes	;	nor	did
	the	laws	permit	them	to	reject	the
	casual	turf	for	their	own	huts,	though
	at	the	same	time	they	obliged	them
	to	ornament,	in	the	most	sumptuous
	manner,	with	new	stone,	the	build-
	ings	of	the	public,	and	the	temples
	of	the	gods,	at	a	common	expense.*	"
	But	although	verse,	however
	highly	adapted	to	poetry,	is	not	es-
	sential	to	it,	it	is	found	very	mate-
	rially	to	heighten	the	intrinsic
	charms	of	poetical	composition.
	*	I	have	said	that	no	one	would	take	this	for	poetry,	which	is	true	generally	;	yet	there
	is	as	much	even	here	as	would	indicate	it	to	be	a	translation	from	poetry.	Thus	the	se-
	cond	and	third	sentences	the	epithet,	"unshaven"	the	expression,	"	reject	the	casual
	turf."	These	parts	are	distinguished	from	the	rest	(which	might	be	taken	to	convey
	mere	information),	as	intimating	that	the	speaker	is	affected	or	moved	by	the	subject	of	his
	statement.


1835.]
	The	Philosophy	of	Pottry.
	in	tune,	music	is	not	merely	pleasing,
	but	a	substantial,	material	enjoy-
	ment.	The	love	of	music,	then,	is
	universal	among	those	who	have
	merely	a	certain	physical	capacity,
	and	whoever	does	not	relish	it,	can
	be	shown	to	want	a	physical	capa-
	city.	Not	so	with	poetry.	A	man
	who	is	extremely	callous	to	its
	charms	shall	detect	a	flaw	in	versifi-
	cation	as	accurately	as	the	keenest
	poetical	enthusiast	shall	do	verse
	as	much	justice	in	the	reading	(in
	proportion	to	what	he	could	do	to
	prose	composition)	shall	even	(I
	do	not	say	he	could	do	so	without
	difficulty)	compose	faultless	verses.
	He	shall	be	with	the	reservation	we
	are	supposing,	if	a	reservation	it
	must	be	a	man	of	sense,	feeling,
	taste	;	nay,	generally	addicted	to
	literary	pursuits.	Here,	then,	is	one
	having	all	the	physical	and	mental
	requisites	for	enjoying	poetry,	and
	who,	though	without	in	any	consider-
	able	degree	enjoying,	may	even	be
	able	to	distinguish	its	beauties.	If
	such	a	person	fails	in	deriving	any
	lively	enjoyment	from	poetry	and
	numerous	cases	of	this	kind	I	be-
	lieve	exist	must	not	the	fair	infer-
	ence	be,	not	that	he	wants	a	peculiar
	faculty,	but	that,	to	the	object	of
	this	supposed	faculty	there	is	attach-
	ed	a	somewhat	fictitious	and	imagi-
	nary	value	?
	The	comparison	now	made	be-
	tween	poetry	and	music	may	not,
	it	is	true,	seem	a	fair	one,	inasmuch
	as	a	love	of	music	is	so	indisputably
	dependent	on	a	certain	physical	or-
	ganization.	There	are	many	cases,	it
	will	be	urged,	in	which	taste	is	al-
	lowed	to	be	the	sole	arbiter,	without
	appeal	to	any	other	tribunal,	where
	yet	there	is	no	particular	independ-
	ent	faculty	such	as	an	ear	for	music,
	and	where	yet	the	degree	of	taste
	for	particular	species	of	beauty	dif-
	fers	remarkably	in	different	indivi-
	duals	as	taste	for	painting,	sculp-
	ture,	architecture,	natural	scenery.
	Now	I	say,	in	the	first	place,	that
	each	of	these	objects	of	taste	differ
	from	every	other	thing	in	a	way	that
	poetry	does	not	differ	from	prose,
	and	may	claim	to	be	amenable	to
	taste	in	a	way	that	poetry,	simply	as
	distinguished	from	prose,	cannot	j	and,
	839
	next,	that	I	believe	there	is	no	per-
	son	of	cultivated	mind	who	is	so	in-
	different	to	the	objects	of	taste	now
	enumerated,	as	many	persons	of
	cultivated	mind	are	to	poetry.
	What	then	do	I	aim	at	showing?
	That	all	poetry	is	worthless?	that
	the	pleasure	derived	from	poetry	is
	altogether	factitious	and	imaginary	?
	no	more	than	I	should	aim	at	show-
	ing	that	prose	is	worthless	;	that	the
	pleasure	derived	from	prose	is	fac-
	titious	and	imaginary.	But	I	con-
	tend	that	poetry,	as	poetry,	has	no
	more	claim	to	have	value	attached
	to	it	than	prose	has	as	prose.	I	ob-
	ject	not	to	the	estimation	that	is
	made	of	numerous	individuals	of	the
	species,	but	to	that	mode	of	the	spe-
	cies	itself.	I	complain,	not	that
	many	compositions	that	are	poetical
	are	placed	in	the	highest	rank	of	li-
	terary	merit;	not	even	that	their
	being	poetical	is	conceived	greatly
	to	heighten	their	value,	and	to	dis-
	play	a	peculiar	and	additional	talent
	in	the	authors	of	them	j	but	that
	many	others	have	this	value	assigned
	to	them,	simply	because	they	are	poeti-
	cal,	and	for	nothing	else.	But,	after
	all,	what	is	there	here,	it	will	be
	asked,	that	any	body	disputes	?	Who
	desires,	on	the	one	hand,	that	worth-
	less	poetry	should	be	preserved	or
	valued?	Who	would	deny,	on	the
	other,	that	worthless	poetry	is,	in
	fact,	despised	and	allowed	to	perish	?
	Now	I	acknowledge	the	difficulty,
	without	specific	proofs,	which	my
	present	limits	would	not	admit,	of
	satisfying	any	one	who	should	ob-
	ject	to	the	justice	of	the	opinions
	now	offered.	These	opinions	un-
	doubtedly	relate	to	a	question	of
	degree.	I	do	not	affirm	that	all
	poetry	is	rated	above	its	value.	I	do
	not	deny	that	some	poetry	is	reject-
	ed.	But	I	affirm,	that	much	of	what
	is	allowed	a	place	as	poetry	of	value,
	poetry	worth	preserving	and	read-
	ing,	is	intrinsically	worthless,	worth-
	less	at	least	as	regards	any	pleasure
	to	he	derived	from	the	pi-r:mal	of	it.
	The	truth	of	this	position,	with
	merely	the	general	reasons	on	which
	it	is	founded,	I	must	leave	to	be	de-
	termined	by	the	experience	and	re-
	flection	of	individual	readers.
	S.


488	MATTHEW	ARNOLD
	may	not	win	the	baton	or	epaulettes;	but	God	give	us
	strength	to	guard	the	honour	of	the	flag!
	flDattbew	BrnoU)
	1822-1888
	THE	STUDY	OF	POETKY
	(Prom	Introduction	to	Ward's	English	Poets,	1880)
	'	The	future	of	poetry	is	immense,	because	in	poetry,	where
	it	is	worthy	of	its	high	destines,	our	race,	as	time	goes	on,
	will	find	an	ever	surer	and	surer	stay.	There	is	not	a	creed	5
	which	is	not	shaken,	not	an	accredited	dogma	which	is	not
	shown	to	be	questionable,	not	a	received	tradition	which	does
	not	threaten	to	dissolve.	Our	religion	has	materialized	itself
	in	the	fact,	in	the	supposed,	fact;	it	has	attached	its	emotion
	to	the	fact,	and	now	the	fact	is	failing	it.	But	for	poetry	10
	the	idea	is	everything;	the	rest	is	a	world	of	illusion,	of
	divine	illusion.	Poetry	attaches	its	emotion	to	the	idea;	the
	idea	is	the	fact.	The	strongest	part	of	our	religion	to-day	is
	its	unconscious	poetry.'
	Let	me	be	permitted	to	quote	these	words	of	my	own,	as	is
	uttering	the	thought	which	should,	in	my	opinion,	go	with	us
	and	govern	us	in	all	our	study	of	poetry.	In	the	present
	work	it	is	the	course	of	one	great	contributory	stream	to	the
	world-river	of	poetry	that	we	are	invited	to	follow.	We	are
	here	invited	to	trace	the	stream	of	English	poetry.	But	20
	whether	we	set	ourselves,	as	here,	to	follow	only	one	of	the
	several	streams	that	make	the	mighty	river	of	poetry,	or
	whether	we	seek	to	know	them	all,	our	governing	thought
	should	be	the	same.	We	should	conceive	of	poetry	worthily,
	and	more	highly	than	it	has	been	the	custom	to	conceive	of	25
	it.	We	should	conceive	of	it	as	capable	of	higher	uses,	and
	called	to	higher	destinies,	than	those	which	in	general	men
	have	assigned	to	it	hitherto.	More	and	more	mankind	will
	discover	that	we	have	to	turn	to	poetry	to	interpret	life	for


THE	STUDY	OF	POETRY	49
	us,	to	console	us,	to	sustain	us.	Without	poetry,	our	science
	would	appear	incomplete;	and	most	of	what	now	passes	with
	us	for	religion	and	philosophy	will	be	replaced	by	poetry.
	Science,	I	say,	will	appear	incomplete	without	it.	For	finely
	6	and	truly	does	Wordsworth	call	poetry	'	the	impassioned	ex
	pression	which	is	in	the	countenance	of	all	science	'	;	and
	what	is	a	countenance	without	its	expression?	Again,	Words
	worth	finely	and	truly	calls	poetry	'	the	breath	and	finer	spirit
	of	all	knowledge':	our	religion,	parading	evidences	such	as
	10	those	on	which	the	popular	mind	relies	now;	our	philosophy,
	pluming	itself	on	its	reasonings	about	causation	and	finite
	infinite	being;	what	are	they	but	the	shadows	and	dreams
	and	false	shows	of	knowledge?	The	day	will	come	when	we
	shall	wonder	at	ourselves	for	having	trusted	to	them,	for
	16	having	taken	them	seriously;	and	the	more	we	perceive	their
	hollowness,	the	more	we	shall	prize	'	the	breath	and	finer
	spirit	of	knowledge	'	offered	to	us	by	poetry.
	But	if	we	conceive	thus	highly	of	the	destinies	of	poetry,
	we	must	also	set	our	standard	for	poetry	high,	since	poetry,
	20	to	be	capable	of	fulfilling	such	high	destinies,	must	be	poetry
	of	a	high	order	of	excellence.	We	must	accustom	ourselves
	to	a	high	standard	and	to	a	strict	judgment.	Sainte-Beuve
	relates	that	Napoleon	one	day	said,	when	somebody	was
	spoken	of	in	his	presence	as	a	charlatan:	'	Charlatan	as	much
	26	as	you	please;	but	where	is	there	not	charlatanism?	'	'	Yes,'
	answered	Sainte-Beuve,	'	in	politics,	in	the	art	of	governing
	mankind,	that	is	perhaps	true.	But	in	the	order	of	thought,
	in	art,	the	glory,	the	eternal	honour	is	that	charlatanism
	shall	find	no	entrance;	herein	lies	the	inviolableness	of	that
	so	noble	portion	of	man's	being.'	It	is	admirably	said,	and	let
	us	hold	fast	to	it.	In	poetry,	which	is	thought	and	art	in
	one,	it	is	the	glory,	the	eternal	honour,	that	charlatan
	ism	shall	find	no	entrance;	that	this	noble	sphere	be	kept
	inviolate	and	inviolable.	Charlatanism	is	for	confusing	or
	36	obliterating	the	distinctions	between	excellent	and	inferior,
	sound	and	unsound	or	only	half-sound,	true	and	untrue	or
	only	half-true.	It	is	charlatanism,	conscious	or	unconscious,
	whenever	we	confuse	.	or	obliterate	these.	And	in	poetry,


49	8	MATTHEW	ARNOLD
	draw	out	what	in	the	abstract	constitutes	the	characters	of	a
	high	quality	of	poetry.	It	is	much	better	simply	to	have
	recourse	to	concrete	examples;	to	take	specimens	of	poetry
	of	the	high,	the	very	highest	quality,	and	to	say:	The	charac
	ters	of	a	high	quality	of	poetry	are	what	is	expressed	there.	5
	They	are	far	better	recognized	by	being	felt	in	the	verse	of
	the	master,	than	by	being	perused	in	the	prose	of	the	critic.
	Nevertheless	if	we	are	urgently	pressed	to	give	some	critical
	account	of	them,	we	may	safely,	perhaps,	venture	on	laying
	down,	not	indeed	how	and	why	the	characters	arise,	but	10
	where	and	in	what	they	arise.	They	are	in	the	matter	and
	substance	of	the	poetry,	and	they	are	in	its	manner	and	style.
	Both	of	these,	the	substance	and	matter	on	the	one	hand,	the
	style	and	manner	on	the	other,	have	a	mark,	an	accent,	of
	high	beauty,	worth,	and	power.	But	if	we	are	asked	to	define	is
	this	mark	and	accent	in	the	abstract,	our	answer	must	be:
	No,	for	we	should	thereby	be	darkening	the	question,	not
	clearing	it.	The	mark	and	accent	are	as	given	by	the	sub
	stance	and	matter	of	that	poetry,	by	the	style	and	manner	of
	that	poetry,	and	of	all	other	poetry	which	is	akin	to	it	in	20
	quality.
	Only	one	thing	we	may	add	as	to	the	substance	and	matter
	of	poetry,	guiding	ourselves	by	Aristotle's	profound	ob
	servation	that	the	superiority	of	poetry	over	history	con
	sists	in	its	possessing	a	higher	truth	and	a	higher	seriousness	25
	(<piA.ocro<fiGOTepor	KOI	crnovdaiorepov}.	Let	us	add,	there
	fore,	to	what	we	have	said,	this:	that	the	substance	and
	matter	of	the	best	poetry	acquire	their	special	character
	from	possessing,	in	an	eminent	degree,	truth	and	serious
	ness.	We	may	add	yet	further,	what	is	in	itself	evi-	so
	dent,	that	to	the	style	and	manner	of	the	best	poetry	their
	special	character,	their	accent,	is	given	by	their	diction,	and,
	even	yet	more,	by	their	movement.	And	though	we	distin
	guish	between	the	two	characters,	the	two	accents,	of	supe
	riority,	yet	they	are	nevertheless	vitally	connected	one	with	35
	the	other.	The	superior	character	of	truth	and	seriousness,
	in	the	matter	and	substance	of	the	best	poetry,	is	inseparable
	from	the	superiority	of	diction	and	movement	marking	its


THE	STUDY	OF	POETRY	499
	style	and	manner.	The	two	superiorities	are	closely	related,
	and	are	in	steadfast	proportion	one	to	the	other.	So	far	as
	high	poetic	truth	and	seriousness	are	wanting	to	a	poet's	mat
	ter	and	substance,	so	far	also,	we	may	be	sure,	will	a	high
	6	poetic	stamp	of	diction	and	movement	be	wanting	to	his
	style	and	manner.	In	proportion	as	this	high	stamp	of	dic
	tion	and	movement,	again,	is	absent	from	a	poet's	style	and
	manner,	we	shall	find,	also,	that	high	poetic	truth	and	seri
	ousness	'are	absent	from	his	substance	and	matter.
	10	So	stated,	these	are	but	dry	generalities;	their	whole	force
	lies	in	their	application.	And	I	could	wish	every	student	of
	poetry	to	make	the	application	of	them	for	himself.	Made
	by	himself,	the	application	would	impress	itself	upon	his
	mind	far	more	deeply	than	made	by	me.	Neither	will	my
	15	limits	allow	me	to	make	any	full	application	of	the	generali
	ties	above	propounded;	but	in	the	hope	of	bringing	out,	at
	any	rate,	some	significance	in	them,	and	of	establishing	an
	important	principle	more	firmly	by	their	means,	I	will,	in	the
	space	which	remains	to	me,	follow	rapidly	from	the	com-
	20	mencement	the	course	of	our	English	poetry	with	them	in
	my	view.
	Once	more	I	return	to	the	early	poetry	of	France,	with
	which	our	own	poetry,	in	its	origins,	is	indissolubly	con
	nected.	In	the	twelfth	and	thirteenth	centuries,	that	seed-
	25	time	of	all	modern	language	and	literature,	the	poetry	of
	France	had	a	clear	predominance	in	Europe.	Of	the	two
	divisions	of	that	poetry,	its	productions	in	the	langue	d'oil
	and	its	productions	in	the	langue	d'oc,	the	poetry	of	the
	langue	d'oc,	of	southern	France,	of	the	troubadours,	is	of	im-
	30	portance	because	of	its	effect	on	Italian	literature;	the	first,
	literature	of	modern	Europe	to	strike	the	true	and	grand
	note,	and	to	bring	forth,	as	in	Dante	and	Petrarch	it	brought
	forth,	classics.	But	the	predominance	of	French	poetry	in
	Europe,	during	the	twelfth	and	thirteenth	centuries,	is	due
	35	to	its	poetry	of	the	langue	d'oil,	the	poetry	of	northern
	France	and	of	the	tongue	which	is	now	the	French	language.
	In	the	twelfth	century	the	bloom	of	this	romance-poetry
	was	earlier	and	stronger	in	England,	at	the	court	of	our


670	NOTES
	and	large	meaning	of	a	poem,	the	merits	or	defects	of	its	general	design,
	its	effect	as	a	whole,	all	this	cannot	be	extracted	from	a	line	or	two,
	however	skilfully	chosen.	The	inadequacy	of	the	method	becomes
	manifest	when	we	remember	Arnold's	definition	of	poetry	as	"	a	criti
	cism	of	life."	In	his	representative	selections,	Arnold	himself	has	un
	wittingly	demonstrated	the	untrustworthiness	of	his	own	method.	He
	is	led	to	select	test-passages	filled	with	a	"	majestic	pain,"	with	resigna
	tion,	and	the	sadness	of	farewells,	because	his	own	nature	vibrates
	most	strongly	to	elegiac	notes.	Hence	those	passages	are	not	so	much
	an	absolute,	"infallible"	touchstone	to	discover	great	poetry	as	they
	are	illustrations	of	the	particular	kind	of	great	poetry	which	happened
	to	appeal	to	Arnold.	They	are	immortal	examples	of	one	kind	of
	poetic	excellence,	but	poetic	excellence	is	not	limited	to	one	mood	or
	style,	however	sublime	or	noble;	its	music	is	not	always	a	dirge	or	a
	funeral	march.	It	is	difficult	to	see	how	anything	could	be	accom
	plished	by	using	them	as	a	standard	to	measure	the	greatness	of	poetry,
	the	especial	excellence	of	which	is	utterly	dissimilar.	We	cannot
	measure	The	Jolly	Beggars,	or	Tarn	o'	Shanter,	by	the	Divine	Comedy,
	Sir	Patrick	Spens	by	Sophocles,	or	The	Rape	of	the	Lock	by	Browning's
	Sordello;	to	search	for	the	essential	poetic	principle	common	to	all	great
	poetry	is	to	start	on	a	quest	for	the	elixir	vitce,	or	the	philosopher's	stone.
	49(5.	17.	Ugolino.	A	leader	in	the	wars	between	the	Guelfs	and
	Ghibellines,	who	was	starved	to	death	in	prison	in	1289.	Dante	de
	scribes	his	meeting	with	Ugolino	in	a	celebrated	passage	in	the	Inferno.
	497.	1.	Henry	the	Fourth's	expostulation	with	sleep.	2	Hen.	IV.,
	III.	1,	18.	6.	Hamlet's	dying	request	toHoratio.	Hamlet,	V.	2,	333.
	11.	That	Miltonic	passage.	Par..	Lost,	I.	599.	17.	And	courage	never	to
	submit.	Par.Lost,I.W8	16.	The	loss	of	Proserpine.	Par.Lost,lV.	271.
	498.	23.	Aristotle's	profound	observation.	"It	appears	from
	what	has	been	said	that	the	object	of	the	poet	is	not	to	relate	what	has
	actually	happened,	but	what	may	possibly	happen.	.	.	.	Poetry	is
	therefore	more	philosophical	and	more	instructive	than	History.	Poetry
	speaks	more	of	general	things	and	History	of	particular."	Aristotle,
	Poetics,	IX.	(Bohn's	ed.).
	499.	22.	Once	more	I	return,	etc.	In	the	passage	which	follows,
	English	poetry	before	the	Norman	Conquest,	(the	Old	English	poetry
	which	preceded	the	Old	French,)	is	passed	over	as	though	utterly	un
	worthy	of	consideration.	We	must	remember	that	although	Arnold
	begins	his	remarks	on	the	"origins"	of	English	poetry	at	the	twelfth
	and	thirteenth	centuries,	poetry,	of	some	kind,	had	originated	in	Eng
	land	about	five	or	six	hundred	years	before.	Of	this	poetry	of	Old
	England	Arnold	seems	to	have	had	but	little	knowledge.	It	is	no	dis
	paragement	to	the	influence	of	French	poetry	to	say,	that	the	fact	that
	our	literature	is	rooted	in	a	Germanic	past	should	not	be	thus	entirely
	overlooked.	27.	Langue	d'oil,	or	langue	d'oui.	The	dialect	spoken
	in	the	north	of	Franco,	so	called	because	its	word	for	"	yes"	was	oil	or
	oui.	It	was	the	language	in	which	the	trouveres	composed,	and	from	it
	the	modern	French	has	sprung.	29.	Langue	d'oc.	The	dialect	spoken
	in	the	south	of	France,	especially	in	the	Provence,	so	called	because	its
	word	for	"yes"	was	oc.	It	was	the	language	of	the	troubadours.
	5OO.	14.	La	parleur	en	ost	plus	delitable.	"	Because	it	is	a	de
	lightful	language	and	common	to	all	peoples."
	,501.	10.	Wolfram	of	Eschenbach.	The	foremost	German	poet	of
	the	Middle	Ages.	He	composed	his	great	epic	Parzival,	based	on	a
	French	version	of	the	Graal	story,	about	the	beginning	of	the	thirteenth


ELECTRO-DEPOSITION	OF	METALS.
	TABULAR	EXAMPLES	OF	DEPOSITION	BY	SIMPLE	IMMERSION.
	J
	1
	SOLUTION.	h

	^
	6
	OT
	6
	e
	3
	i
	&
	a
	'
	1
	I
	i
	'e
	J
	1
	&
	%
	2
	i
	g
	i
	rt
	1
	p
	bfl
	c
	<U
	1
	1
	:.

	C
	<
	1
	3
	M
	CJ
	<3
	d

	o
	~
	3
	K

	%
	2

	K

	N
	Antimony	Terchloride
	n

	d
	d

	o
	n
	d

	d
	n

	n
	n
	d
	d
	Bismuth	Chloride	.	.
	n
	o
	n
	n

	n
	n
	n
	d
	d
	n

	o

	d
	d
	Copper	Sulphate	.	.
	Nitrate	.	.
	Chloride
	n
	n
	o
	o
	n
	n
	d"
	O
	o

	o
	o
	n
	n
	n
	n

	d
	d
	d
	d
	n
	n

	o
	o

	n
	n
	n
	n
	d
	d
	d
	d
	"	Dichloride'	!
	n
	n
	o
	o
	,
	n
	o
	o
	o
	o

	n
	n

	n
	n
	n

	n
	n
	n
	d
	Dble.	Cyanide	!
	n
	o
	n
	d
	o

	d
	n
	d
	n
	n
	n

	n
	n
	n
	D
	Mercury	Nitrate	.	.
	d

	d

	d

	d
	n

	d
	d
	'n

	o

	n

	d
	Mercurous	Salts	.	.
	d
	d
	d
	d
	d

	d

	d
	d
	o

	d
	d
	d
	Platinum	Chloride
	d
	d
	d
	d
	d
	d
	d
	n
	d
	d
	d
	n

	d
	d
	d
	d
	d
	Lead	Nitrate	J
	.
	,,	Acetate	f	'	'
	"
	o
	Silver	Nitrate	.	.	.
	d
	d
	d
	d

	d
	n
	d
	d
	D
	n
	o
	d

	d
	n
	D
	d
	\\	Dble.	Cyanide	.
	Tin	Chloride	...
	n
	n
	o
	o

	n
	n
	d
	n

	D
	n
	n
	n
	d
	n
	n
	n
	D
	d
	n
	n

	o

	n
	n
	n
	n
	n
	n
	D
	d
	Zinc	Salts	.	.	.	.
	n

	n
	n

	n
	n
	n
	n
	n
	n
	o
	o

	n
	n
	n
	n
	d.	Deposition.
	REFERENCES.
	n.	No	deposition.	o.	Not	observed.	D.	Quickly	deposited.
	The	following	observations	have	also	been	made	by
	Mr.	Gore.	That	no	metal	becomes	coated	by	simple
	immersion	in	a	solution	of	the	same	metal.	That	the
	baser	metals,	such	as	zinc,	lead,	tin,	and	iron,	become
	coated	more	frequently	than	such	noble	metals	as	gold
	and	platinum,	whilst	solutions	of	these	yield	their	metal
	more	readily	than	those	of	the	baser	metals.	That	the
	coherent	and	adhesive	deposits	were	very	thin,	and	the
	heavy,	rapidly-formed	deposits	had	the	appearance	of
	a	dark-coloured	powder.	To	this	mode	of	deposition
	belongs	the	processes	of	wash-tinning,	simple	silvering,
	and	water-gilding


222	BIOGRAPHIA	LITERAKIA.
	chanical	memory	;	that	which	supplies	to	all	other	faculties
	their	objects,	to	all	thought	the	elements	of	its	materials.
	In	consulting	the	excellent	commentary	of	St.	Thomas	Aquinas
	on	the	Parva	Naturalia	of	Aristotle,	I	was	struck	at	once	with
	itb	close	resemblance	to	Hume's	Essay	on	Association.	The
	main	thoughts	were	the	same	in	both,	the	order	of	the	thoughts
	was	the	same,	and	even	the	illustration	differed	only	by	Hume's
	occasional	substitution	of	more	modern	examples.	I	mentioned
	the	circumstance	to	several	of	my	literary	acquaintances,	who
	admitted	the	closeness	of	the	resemblance,	and	that	it	seemed
	too	great	to	be	explained	by	mere	coincidence	;	but	they	thought
	it	improbable	that	Hume	should	have	held	the	pages	of	the	An-
	gelic	Doctor	worth	turning	over.	But	some	time	after	Mr.	Payne
	showed	Sir	James	Mackintosh	some	odd	volumes	of	St.	Thomas
	Aquinas,	partly	perhaps	from	having	heard	that	he	had	in	his
	Lectures	passed	a	high	encomium	ou	this	canonized	philosopher	;
	but	chiefly	from	the	fact,	that	the	volumes	had	belonged	to	Mr.
	Hume,	and	had	here	and	there	marginal	marks	and	notes	of
	reference	in	his	own	hand-writing.	Among	these	volumes	was
	that	which	contains	the	Parva	Naturalia,	in	the	old	Latin	ver-
	sion,	swathed	and	swaddled	in	the	commentary	afore-mentioned	!*
	*	[This	Commentary	of	Aquinas	is	contained	in	the	third	volume	of	the
	edition	of	his	works,	printed	at	Venice	in	15934,	and	in	the	Antwerp	edi-
	tion	of	1612,	end	of	torn.	iii.	It	surrounds	two	translations	of	the	text,	one
	of	which	is	the	Antiqua	Translatio.
	When	Mr.	C.	spoke	of	"	Hume's	Essay	on	Association,"	as	closely	resem-
	bling	it,	he	must	have	had	in	his	mind,	not	merely	the	short	section	on
	the	Association	of	Ideas,	but	generally	whatever	relates	to	the	subject	iu
	the	Inquiry	concerning	Human	Understanding,	from	sections	ii.	to	vii.	in-
	clusively.	The	similar	thoughts	and	ancient	illustrations	are	to	be	found
	in	that	part	of	the	commentary	which	belongs	to	the	treatise	De	Memoria
	et	Reminiscentia	(the	second	of	the	Parva	Naturalia),	particularly	in	sec-
	tions	v.	and	vi.	pp.	25-6	of	the	Antwerp	edit.
	There	the	principles	of	connection	amongst	ideas,	and	"	the	method	and
	regularity"	with	which	they	present	themselves	to	the	mind,	are	set	forth
	at	some	length,	for	the	purpose	of	explaining	the	nature	of	memory	and
	describing	our	mental	processes	in	voluntary	recollection	and	unintentional
	remembrance.	I	think,	however,	that	the	likeness	to	Hume's	treatise,
	wherein	Association	of	Ideas	is	subordinate	and	introductory	to	another
	speculation,	which	it	was	the	author's	principal	aim	to	bring	forward,	may
	have	been	somewhat	magnified	iu	Mr.	C.'s	mind	from	the	circumstance,	that
	the	commentary,	in	addition	to	what	it	sets	forth	on	connections	of	ideas,
	dwells	much	on	certain	other	topics	which	are	dwelt	upon	also	in	the	Iu-


1840.]
	Sir	Eliduc,
	787
	Till	the	ladye	faltering	spake	"	Sir
	Knight,
	Words	are	ill	befitting	me,
	But	were	the	world	at	my	behest,
	I	would	wed	no	mate	but	thee."
	"	Sweet	princess	fair,"	said	Eliduc,
	As	he	dropp'd	her	proffer'd	hand,
	"	I	am	pledged	by	the	oath	of	a	leal
	true	knight,
	.To	return	to	my	native	land	;
	10.
	"	And	thou	knowest,	flower,	that	not
	with	me
	Canst	thou	leave	this	realm	to	roam,
	For	thou	art	the	sole	child	of	its
	crown,
	Which	thou	must	wear	at	home."
	"	'Tis	nay,	'tis	nay,	Sir	Eliduc
	This	heart	is	thine,	this	hand	is
	free
	And	if	thou	spurn'st	me	not	away,
	I	will	cross	the	waves	with	thee	!	"
	11.
	She	stood	before	him	beautiful,
	Like	a	lily	pure	by	a	lake	;
	With	deep-drawn	sighs,	and	dovelike
	eyes	;
	O,	his	heart	was	like	to	break!
	"	My	bird	of	beauty,"	said	Eliduc,
	"	I	am	summon'd	across	the
	sea
	But	blithely	sing	in	thy	father's	halls
	Till	I	come	back	for	thee.
	12.
	"	yes	O	yes	!	my	fair	Princess,
	In	hopeful	peace	and	pleasure
	rest."
	Then	the	love-sick	heart	of	Eliza-
	beth
	Leapt	for	joy	within	its	nest	;
	And	returning	to	her	sire	the	king,
	Sir	Eliduc	'gan	say
	"	To	the	shores	of	my	native	Brit-
	tan	ie
	I	am	summon*	d	hence	away.
	13.
	"	Thy	realm,	great	king,	is	now	at	rest	;
	Thy	foes	are	all	o'ercome	;
	While	the	jars	and	the	wars	of	my	own
	dear	land
	Call	all	her	children	home.
	At	the	throne,	where	sign'd	was	my
	exile,
	All	the	knaves	who	cross'd	my	way
	Have	own'd	the	shame	of	their	per-
	jured	words,
	And	for	my	presence	pray	:
	14.
	"	Well,	well	I	knew	the	carpet	knights
	For	their	gentle	selves	should	fear,
	When	o'er	them	gleam'd	the	Flanders
	axe,
	"	And	Brabant's	threatening	spear."
	"	Sir	Eliduc,"	replied	the	King,
	"	Thy	worth	may	none	gainsav	;
	In	the	gloom	of	war	thou	earnest	to
	us,
	And	leavest	us	peace	to-day."
	15.
	The	King	bade	the	royal	galleys	wait
	At	Totness,	by	the	shore,
	To	the	plains	of	France	with	sword
	and	lance
	To	escort	the	brave	Knight	o'er.
	With	golden	gleam	the	pennants
	stream'd	;
	In	foam	the	blue	waves	curl'd	;
	On	deck	stood	the	bearded	halber-
	diers,
	And	the	snow-white	sails	unfurl'd.
	16.
	From	the	echoing	streets	of	Exeter
	March'd	a	thousand	men	and
	more,
	With	banners,	and	unbeaver'd	all,
	Following	Eliduc	to	the	shore.
	There	is	never	a	knight	in	Loegria
	Can	match	with	this	strange
	knight,
	At	feat	of	courtly	tournament,
	Or	on	blood-red	field	of	fight.
	17.
	Elizabeth	gazed	from	the	turret	high,
	And	she	saw	him,	on	the	plain
	Departing	'mid	bright	clumps	of
	spears,
	While	pages	held	each	rein	;
	And	toll	the	bells	went,	tant-a-roll	;
	And	she	heard	the	trampling
	crowd,
	And	the	trumpets'	bray,	and	the	loud
	huzza,
	And	the	neigh	of	a	war-horse	proud.
	18.
	Passion	and	pride	now	lifted	up
	Her	heart	within	her	breast,
	But	doubt	and	fear	anon	drew	near,
	And	down	her	spirit	press'd	;
	Then,	turning,	she	sank	upon	her
	couch,
	And	wrung	her	hands,	and	sigh-
	ed
	O,	would	that	Sir	Eliduc	were
	back
	To	woo	me	for	his	bride	!


PROSE	OF	WALT	WHITMAN
	209
	single	purpose	of	revenge;	and	she	saw	not	each	incidental	ef-
	fect.	Thus	it	is	with	evil	intentions.	I	have	noticed	that	the
	bad	are	always	short-sighted:	in	the	plots	they	form,	and	the
	manoeuvres	they	engage	in,	some	little	thing	or	other	escapes
	their	view,	and	proves,	after	a	while,	to	be	a	seed	of	punishment
	and	remorse.
	Again	the	curtains	of	darkness	hung	around	the	planter's
	dwelling;	and	again	had	the	balancing	point	of	the	sickness	ar-
	rived	for	a	sufferer	there.	That	sufferer	was	little	Louis.
	He	had	left	the	house	of	the	overseer,	and	now	lived	at	his	old
	abode.	There	was	the	same	breathlessness	and	the	same	want
	of	movement	as	on	the	preceding	occasion;	but	instead	of	the
	sick	room	being	almost	deserted,	as	in	the	former	case,	many
	persons	waited	there.	Perhaps	they	had	become	more	callous
	to	fear,	because	it	was	not	a	new	thing;	perhaps	it	was	that
	they	thought	the	influences	of	a	sick	child's	apartment	more
	gentle	and	less	dangerous	than	the	former	one.	Margaret
	stood	in	a	position	so	quiet,	and	with	eyes	so	stony	in	their	gaze,
	that	she	seemed	like	one	entranced.	On	the	result	of	the
	pending	sleep	of	her	brother	it	seemed	as	if	her	reason	and	her
	life	were	wavering.
	At	last	the	slumberer	awoke.	The	Creole	shrieked!	for
	it	was	plain	Louis	but	aroused	himself	for	a	moment,	to	sink
	shortly	in	that	deep	senselessness	which	knows	no	waking	here	on
	earth.	He	shifted	himself	uneasily	on	his	bed.	A	film	came
	over	Margaret's	eyes	a	film	of	fear	and	agony;	and	when	it
	passed	off	and	left	her	sight	clear,	she	saw,	laying	before	her,	the
	quiet	ghastly	corpse	of	her	brother.
	Those	who	were	present	felt	awed	at	her	terrible	grief.	She
	screamed	aloud,	and	threw	her	arms	around	the	boy,	and
	pressed	his	forehead	to	her	lips.	She	called	him	by	all	the	old
	endearing	epithets,	and	seemed	crazed	with	her	sense	of	desper-
	ate	sorrow.	The	wild	exclamations	that	started	from	her
	mouth	the	listeners	heard	with	wonder.
	"Do	not	go!"	she	said,	looking	on	the	inanimate	form	of
	the	boy.	"Do	not	go.	The	pleasant	days	are	not	all	passed.
	If	you	leave	me,	my	heart	will	crack!"
	Then	in	a	whisper:
	"O,	never	tell	me	of	her	kindness.	Lead	her	into	the	hut,	I
	say.	She	is	a	witch,	and	can	steal	hearts."
	She	paused,	and	looked	intently	at	some	phantom	before
	her.


28	JOHN	B.	WOODWARD
	ANNAPOLIS,	May	9th,	1861.
	To-day	the	correspondence	has	quite	rolled
	in	on	me,	one	letter	having	with	it	a	parcel	of
	cakes	and	sausages	(from	Lizzie,	of	course).	.	.
	.	.	.	Have	finally	dismissed	the	army	position.
	My	errand	to	Washington	was	double	appa
	rently	to	take	charge	of	some	camp	equipage
	for	the	Seventh	Regiment,	really	to	deliver
	important	despatches	to	the	War	Department.
	This	was	not	known	even	to	the	men	who	ac
	companied	me,	and	I	have	not	before	this	told
	any	one.	I	was	as	glad	to	give	up	those	des
	patches	as	was	Sinbad	the	Sailor	to	get	rid	of
	the	Old	Man	of	the	Mountain.	If	I	did	not
	deem	my	duty	to	my	company	paramount	I
	should	be	frequently	sent,	as	both	General
	Butler	and	Colonel	Smith	apparently	regard
	me	with	favor	;	but	I	am	specially	needed	here
	whilst	the	recruits	are	raw	Evan
	Johnson	to-day	returns	to	the	corps,	we	hav
	ing	waived	our	rights.	To	enable	him	to	do
	this	I	have	resigned	the	First	Lieutenancy
	and	am	again	Second	Lieutenant;	so	I	am
	promoted	downward.	The	men	grumble	at
	me	for	my	good	nature,	but	I	deem	my	action


C28	North's	Specimens	of	the	British	Critics.
	"	On	the	green	bank	I	sat,	and	listen'd	long	;
	(Sitting	was	more	convenient	for	the	song	:)
	Nor	till	her	lay	was	ended	could	I	move,
	But	wish'd	to	dwell	for	ever	in	the	grove.
	Only	methought	the	time	too	swiftly	pass'd,
	And	every	note	I	fear'd	would	be	the	last.
	My	sight,	and	smell,	and	hearing	were	employ	'd,
	And	all	three	senses	in	full	gust	enjoy'd.
	And	what	alone	did	all	the	rest	surpass,
	The	sweet	possession	of	the	fairy	place	j
	Single,	and	conscious	to	myself	alone,
	Of	pleasures	to	the	excluded	world	unknown	;
	Pleasures	which	nowhere	else	were	to	be	found,
	And	all	Elysium	in	a	spot	of	ground."
	The	Lake	poets	Heaven	bless	Helmcrag"	answers	"where?"	Time,
	them!	have	one	and	all	Words-	the	imagery	is	all	in	Chaucer.	But
	worth,	Coleridge,	Southey	loudly	had	not	Dryden's	heart	'	rejoiced	in
	and	angrily	denied	to	Dryden	a	poet-	nature's	joy,'	not	thus	could	he	have
	ical	eye	for	nature,	quoting	in	proof	caught	the	spirit	of	his	master.	Ay
	some	inflated	passage	or	another	from	the	spirit	;	for	there	it	is,	in	spite
	his	rhyming	plays.	Pope,	too,	ac-	of	the	difference	of	manner	trans-
	cording	to	them,	was	blind,	and	had	fused	without	evaporation	or	other
	never	seen	the	moon	and	stars,	loss,	from	the	'	rhime	roial	'	in	which
	Where,	we	ask,	in	all	the	poetry	of	Chaucer	rejoiced,	into	the	couplet	in
	the	Lakes	and	Tarns,	is	there	such	a	which	Dryden,	in	his	old	age,	moved
	strain	so	rich	and	so	sustained	as	like	a	giant	refreshed	with	gulps	of
	that	yet	ringing	in	your	cars	?	And	the	dewy	morn.	Again:
	44	the	ancient	woman	seated	on
	"	The	ladies	left	their	measures	at	the	sight,
	To	meet	the	chiefs	returning	from	the	fight,
	And	each	with	open	arms	embraced	her	chosen	knight.
	Amid	the	plain	a	spreading	laurel	stood,
	The	grace	and	ornament	of	all	the	wood	;
	That	pleasing	shade	they	sought,	a	soft	retreat
	From	sudden	April	showers,	a	shelter	from	the	heat.
	Her	leafy	arms	with	such	extent	were	spread,
	So	near	the	clouds	was	her	aspiring	head,
	That	hosts	of	birds,	that	wing	the	liquid	air,
	Perch'd	in	the	boughs,	had	nightly	lodging	there	:
	And	flocks	of	sheep	beneath	the	shade	from	far
	Might	hear	the	rattling	hail,	and	wintry	war	;
	From	heaven's	inclemency	here	found	retreat,
	Enjoy'd	the	cool,	and	shunn'd	the	scorching	heat	;
	A	hundred	knights	might	there	at	ease	abide,
	And	every	knight	a	lady	by	his	side	:
	The	trunk	itself	such	odours	did	bequeath
	That	a	Moluccan	breeze	to	these	was	common	breath.
	The	lords	and	ladies	here,	approaching,	paid
	Their	homage,	with	a	low	obeisance	made,
	And	seem'd	to	venerate	the	sacred	shade.
	These	rites	perform'd,	their	pleasures	they	pursue,
	With	songs	of	love,	and	mix	with	measures	new	:
	Around	the	holy	tree	their	dance	they	frame,
	And	ev'ry	champion	leads	his	chosen	dame.
	"	I	cast	my	sight	upon	the	farther	field,
	And	a	fresh	object	of	delight	beheld.
	For	from	the	region	of	the	west	I	heard
	New	music	sound,	and	a	new	troop	apppear'd,
	Of	knights	and	ladies	mix'd,	a	jolly	band,
	But	all	on	foot	they	march'd,	and	hand	in	hand.


1845.]	North's	Specimens	of	the	British	Critics.	Q2
	u	The	ladies	dressed	in	rich	symars	were	seen,
	Of	Florence	satin,	flower'd	with	white	and	green,
	And	for	a	shade	betwixt	the	bloomy	gridelin.
	The	borders	of	their	petticoats	below
	Were	guarded	thick	with	rubies	in	a	row	;
	And	every	damsel	wore	upon	her	head
	Of	flowers	a	garland	blended	white	and	red.
	Attired	in	mantles	all	the	knights	were	seen,
	That	gratified	the	view	with	cheerful	green	:
	Their	chaplets	of	their	ladies'	colours	were,
	Composed	of	white	and	red,	to	shade	their	shining	hair.
	Before	the	merry	troop	the	minstrels	play'd,
	All	in	their	masters'	liveries	were	array'd,
	And	clad	in	green,	and	on	their	temples	wore
	The	chaplets	white	and	red	their	ladies	bore.
	Their	instruments	were	various	in	their	kind,
	Some	for	the	bow,	and	some	for	breathing	wind	j
	The	sawtry,	pipe,	and	hautboy's	noisy	band,
	And	the	soft	lute	trembling	beneath	the	touching	hand.
	A	tuft	of	daisies	on	a	flowery	lea
	They	saw,	and	thitherward	they	bent	their	way	;
	To	this	both	knights	and	dames	their	homage	made,
	And	due	obeisance	to	the	daisy	paid.
	And	then	the	band	of	flutes	began	to	play,
	To	which	a	lady	sang	a	virelay	;
	And	still	at	every	close	she	would	repeat
	The	burden	of	the	song,	The	daisy	is	so	sweet.
	The	daisy	is	so	sweet,	when	she	begun
	The	troop	of	knights	and	dames	continued	on.
	The	concert	and	the	voice	so	charm'd	my	ear,
	And	sooth	'd	my	soul,	that	it	was	heaven	to	hear."
	O	bardlings	of	Young	England!	nearly	counted	threescore	and	ten?
	withhold,	we	beseech	you,	from	win-	"	Yet	was	not	his	natural	force
	some	Maga,	your	verse-offerings,	abated"	while	his	sense	of	beauty,
	while	thus	the	sons	of	song,	evoked	instructed	and	refined	by	meditations
	from	the	visionary	land,	coming	and	that	deepen	amongst	life's	evening
	going	like	shadows,	smile	to	let	drop	shades,	became	holier	within	sight	of
	at	her	feet	the	scrolls	of	their	inspira-	the	grave.	You	will	thank	us	for	an-
	tion.	Poetry	indeed	!	"	You	lisp	in	other	quotation	;	for	much	do	we	fear,
	numbers,	for	the	numbers	come."	O	lady	fair	!	that	thou	hast	no	copy	of
	But	in	big	boobies	a	lisp	is	only	less	Dryden	in	thy	boudoir,	and	yet	life	is
	loathsome	than	a	burr.	Some	of	fast	flowing	on	with	thee,	for	thou	art
	you	have	both,	and	therefore	deserve	nay,	there's	no	denying	yea,	thou
	to	die.	Eeaders	beloved	!	prefer	you	art	in	thy	twentieth	year	and	if	you
	not	such	sweet,	strong	strains	as	these	continue	to	refuse	our	advice	will	soon
	sounded	by	Dryden,	when	he	had	be	an	old	woman.
	"	The	Lady	of	the	Leaf	ordain'd	a	feast,
	And	made	the	Lady	of	the	Flower	her	guest	:
	"When	lo	!	a	bower	ascended	on	the	plain,
	With	sudden	seats	adorn'd,	and	large	for	either	train.
	This	bower	was	near	my	pleasant	arbour	placed,
	That	I	could	hear	and	see	whatever	pass'd	:
	The	ladies	sat	with	each	a	knight	between,
	Distinguish'd	by	their	colours,	white	and	green	;
	The	vanquish'd	party	with	the	victors	j	oin'd,
	Nor	wanted	sweet	discourse,	the	banquet	of	the	mind.
	Meantime	the	minstrels	play'd	on	either	side,
	Vain	of	their	art,	and	for	the	mastery	vied.
	The	sweet	contention	lasted	for	an	hour,
	And	reach'd	my	secret	arbour	from	the	bower.


618	The	Iliad	of	Homer	Book	the	First.	[May,
	Cleansed	with	water	their	hands,	and	besprinkled	the	victims	with	barley.
	Lifting	his	hands	in	the	midst,	then	Chryses	made	supplication	:
	"	Hear	me,	Protector	divine	both	of	Chrysa	and	beautiful	Killa,
	God	of	the	silvery	bow,	over	Tenedos	mightily	reigning
	Hear	me,	if	ever	before	there	was	favour	to	crown	my	petition.
	Greatly	to	honour	thy	priest,	hast	thou	humbled	the	host	of	Achaia	\
	Now	I	beseech	thee	to	hear,	and	again	let	my	prayer	be	accepted
	Hence	be	the	pestilence	stay'd	that	is	wasting	the	Danaid	leaguer	!	"
	So	did	he	speak	in	his	prayer,	nor	regardless	was	Phoebus	Apollo	;
	Also	the	Danaids	pray'd,	and	again	they	besprinkled	with	barley	;
	Then	were	the	necks	turn'd	back,	and	they	slaughter'd	the	victims,	and
	skinn'd	them.
	And	when	the	bones	of	the	thighs	were	extracted,	and	wrapt	in	the	fatness
	Doubled	upon	them	around,	and	the	raw	flesh	added	in	fragments,
	Over	the	split	wood	then	did	the	old	man	burn	them,	and	black	wine
	Pour'd,	while	with	five-prong'	d	forks,	at	his	side,	were	the	youthful	attendants.
	But	when	the	bones	and	the	fat	they	had	burn'd,	and	had	tasted	the	entrails,
	All	that	remain'd	was	divided	and	fix'd	on	the	spits	of	the	striplings,
	Koasted	with	skill	at	the	fire,	and	in	readiness	moved	from	the	altar	:
	Then	was	the	labour	complete,	and	the	banquet	prepared	for	the	people,
	And	they	were	banqueted	all,	nor	had	one	to	complain	of	his	portion.
	But	when	of	meat	and	of	drink	the	desire	from	them	all	had	departed,
	Duly	the	goblets	were	mantled	with	wine	by	the	youths	of	the	temple,
	Handed	in	order	to	all,	and	the	round	of	libation	accomplish'd.
	Then	through	the	live-long	day	the	Achaians,	in	melody	gracious,
	Chanted	the	paean	divine	to	the	glory	of	Phoebus	Apollo,
	Hymning	the	might	of	the	King	;	and	the	voice	of	the	harmony	pleased	him.
	Then,	when	the	sun	went	down,	and	the	darkness	around	them	was	gather'd,
	All	to	the	haven	departed,	and	slept	on	the	beach	by	their	hausers	;
	Till	as	the	roseate	Eos,	the	daughter	of	Morning,	ascended,
	Back	was	their	voyage	ordain'd	to	the	wide-	spread	host	of	Achaia.
	Fair	was	the	breeze	that	attended	their	going	from	Phoebus	Apollo	;
	Upward	they	hoisted	the	mast,	and	the	white	sail	spread	to	receive	it	;
	Full	on	the	canvass	it	smote,	and	the	dark-blue	swell	of	the	waters
	Echo'd	around	at	their	coming,	and	groan'd	to	the	plunge	of	the	galley,
	Onward	advancing	apace,	as	it	sever'd	the	path	of	the	billows.
	But	when	the	course	had	been	run,	and	the	galley	arriv'd	at	the	leaguer,
	High	on	the	sands	of	the	beach	was	it	hawl'd,	and	secur'd	with	the	slay-
	beams,
	And	they	dispers'd	on	the	shore,	and	return'd	to	the	tents	of	their	kinsmen.
	Gloomily	wrapt	in	his	wrath,	still	sat	by	the	strand	of	the	galleys
	High-born	Peleus'	son	:	unappeas'd	was	the	rapid	Achilleus.
	Neither	'mid	chieftains	again	to	the	honour-	conferring	assembly,
	Nor	to	the	battle	he	came	;	but	his	heart	was	consuming	in	fierceness,
	There	where	he	rested	aloof,	for	he	yearn'd	for	the	charge	and	the	war-shout.
	But	when	his	wrath	had	endur'd	to	the	twelfth	resurrection	of	morning,
	Back	to	Olympus	return'd	over	ocean	the	blessed	Immortals,
	All	the	attendance	of	Zeus	:	nor	had	then	the	command	of	Peleides
	Pass'd	from	the	mind	of	his	mother,	but	rising	anon	from	the	sea-	wave,
	She,	at	the	dawning	of	day,	to	the	great	heaven	went	and	Olympus.
	Far	from	the	rest	of	the	Gods,	wide-	seeing	Kronion	was	seated,
	Lone	on	the	loftiest	peak	of	the	manifold-crested	Olympus.
	Silently	Thetis	approach'd	him	and	sate	by	his	side	;	and	the	Goddess,
	Grasping	his	knees	with	her	left,	and	caressing	his	chin	with	the	right	hand,
	Earnestly	lifted	her	voice,	and	petition'd	the	King	Everlasting	:
	"	Father	!	if	ever	of	old	I	was	helpful	to	thee	among	Godheads,
	Either	in	word	or	in	deed,	let	the	boon	that	I	crave	be	conceded
	Honour	deny	not	to	him	whom	I	bore	to	mortality	fore-doom'd
	Earliest	far	of	mankind	;	for	the	Sov'reign	of	men,	Agamemnon,
	Basely	dishonours	my	son,	and	has	seiz'd	and	possesses	his	guerdon.


A	Few	Words	about	Novels	A	Dialogue.	[Oct.
	One	thing	I	cannot	but	it	is	thus	abstinently	administered,
	there	is	often	a	great	charm	in	the
	470
	and	Then	?
	greatly	admire	in	Mr	Warren	he	is
	ever	alive	to	the	dignity	of	his	profes-
	sion.	Hating	law	as	I	do,	in	all	its
	courses,	waj's,	contacts,	and	conse-
	quences,	and	officials,	from	the	Lord
	Chief-Justice	to	the	petty	constable	;
	and	having	a	kind	of	envious	dislike
	to	the	arrogation	to	themselves,	by
	lawyers,	of	the	greater	part	of	the
	great	profits	and	emoluments	of	the
	country;	and	seeing,	besides,	that
	most	men	of	any	station	and	property
	pay,	in	their	course	of	life,	as	much	to
	lawyers	as	in	taxes,	the	one	cried-up
	grievance	;	yet	I	confess	that	Mr
	Warren	has	put	the	noble	portraiture
	of	the	profession,	in	all	its	dignity	and
	usefulness,	and	in	its	high	moral	and
	intellectual	acquirements	and	actions,
	so	vigorously	before	me,	that	I	re-
	cant,	and	even	venerate	the	profes-
	sion	against	my	will,	nevertheless.
	CURATE.	How	touching	are	the
	early	struggles	with	his	poverty,	in
	the	person	of	the	young	physician	him-
	self!	with	what	fine	taste	and	feeling
	of	the	gentleman	and	the	scholar	are
	they	written	!	Perhaps	no	novel	can
	show	a	more	perfectly	complete-in-it-
	self	character	than	his	Gammon,	in
	whom	is	the	strange	interweaving	of
	the	man	of	taste	and	sense	even,	in
	some	sense,	better	feeling	with	the
	vile	and	low	habits	of	knavery.
	AQUILIUS.	The	author	differs	from
	most	novelists	in	this,	that	he	does
	not	make	love,	by	which	must	be	un-
	derstood	love-making	or	love-pursuing,
	the	subject,	but	incidental	to	his	sub-
	ject.	He	sets	up	affection,	rather,	in
	the	niche	for	his	idolatry.	Tenderness,
	and	duty	linked	with	it,	and	made
	sublime	by	it,	is	with	him	far	more
	than	the	"passion,"	of	love.	It	is
	life	with	love,	rather	than	in	the	chase
	-of	it,	that	we	see	detailed	in	trial	and
	in	power.
	CURATE.	It	is	so	;	and	yet	you	do
	not,	I	presume,	mean	to	blame	other
	authors	if	they	have	made	"	the	pas-
	sion"	their	subject.	We	are	only
	bound	to	the	author's	choice,	be	it
	what	it	may	love,	ambition,	or	any
	other	we	must	have	every	feature	of
	life,	every	notice	of	action,	pictured.
	AQUILIUS.	Surely	:	but	there	is	a
	masculine	virtue,	seeing	that	the	one
	field	has	been	so	decidedly	occupied,	in
	making	it	less	prominent	;	and	where
	conciseness	and	unexpectedness.	Let
	me	exemplify	Mr	Southey's	Doctor,
	There	may	be,	strictly	speaking,	or
	rather	speaking	after	the	fashion	of
	novels,	but	little	love-making;	there
	are,	nevertheless,	two	little	scenes,	that
	are	the	most	touchingly	effective
	I	ever	remember	to	have	read.	The
	one	is	a	scene	between	cousins
	dependent	and	in	poverty,	I	think,	at
	Salisbury;	the	other,	the	unexpected
	and	brief	courtship	of	Doctor	Dove
	himself.	It	is	many	years	since	I
	read	The	Doctor,	yet	these	two	scenes
	have	often	been	conjured	up,	and
	vividly	pictured	to	my	imagination.
	I	doubt	if	Southey	could	have	told	a
	love-tale	in	any	other	way,	and	few	in
	any	way	would	have	told	one	so	well.
	CURATE.	Those	who	dwell	too
	unsparingly	on	such	scenes,	and	spin
	out	their	sentimental	tales,	and	bring
	the	loving	pair	incessantly	before	the
	eye,	do	for	the	most	part	the	very
	thing	which	the	nature	of	the	passion
	forbids.	Its	whole	virtue	is	in	the
	secrecy.	And	though	the	writer	often
	supposes	a	secrecy,	by	professing	him-
	self	only	the	narrator	and	not	the	wit-
	ness,	yet	the	reader	is	not	quite	satis-
	fied,	seeing	that	he	too	is	called	in	to
	look	over	the	wall	or	behind	the	hedge	;
	and	the	virtue	he	is	willing	to	give	the
	lovers	is	at	some	expense	of	his	own,
	for	he	has	a	shrewd	suspicion	that	both
	he	and	the	writer	are	little	better	than
	spies.,
	AQUILIUS.	Surely	you	will	admit
	something	conventional,	as	you	would
	the	soliloquy	on	the	stage	words
	must	pass	for	thoughts.	I	find	a
	greater	fault	with	those	kind	of	no-
	vels	;	they	work,	as	it	were,	too	much
	to	a	point,	beyond	which,	and	out	of
	which	aim,	there	is	no	interest.	These
	I	call	melodramatic	novels,	in	which
	the	object	seems	to	harrow	up	or	con-
	tinually	excite	the	feelings,	to	rein
	the	hasty	course	of	curiosity,	working
	chiefly	for	the	denouement,	after
	which	there	is	nothing	left	but	a	blank.
	Curiosity,	satisfied,	cannot	go	back	;
	the	threads	have	all	been	taken	up
	that	lead	out	of	the	labyrinth	they
	will	not	conduct	you	back	again.	No-
	vels	of	this	kind	have	greater	power,	at
	first,	than	any	other	;	but,	the	effect
	for	which	they	labour	fully	produced,


320
	IWDEX.
	PAGES.
	Eggs,	Qualities	of	94,	296
	"	Preservation	of	for	Cooking	97
	"	Hatching	98
	"	Recipes	for	Preserving	97,	"
	.	Sexes	of	95
	"	Structure	of	99
	Weight	of	41,	224
	Everlasting	Layers	54
	Fowl,	Domestic,	Anomalous	Varieties	of	81
	Antiquity	of	Varieties
	of	5,14,73
	Artificial	Incubation	of	112
	"	Mothers	in
	Rearing	of	120
	Bantam	67,297
	Black	70
	Creeper	71
	Jumper	71
	Nankin	67
	Sebright	68
	White	71
	Yellow	67
	Barn-Door	55,	72
	Best	Food	for	125
	Black	Polish	62
	"	Topped	White
	Polish	63
	Spanish	26
	Blue	Dun	80
	Bolton	Bay	51
	Grey	51
	Booby	78
	Breeding	and	Crossing
	of	103
	Buck's-County	78
	Caponising	251
	Chittagong	37
	Cheteprats	51
	Chittiprals	51
	Classification	of	25
	Cochin-China	33
	Comparative	Merits	of	.	295
	Cuckoo	55
	Coops	for	121,	122
	Copplecrowns	56,	60
	Coral	Grey	51
	Creole	51
	Diseases	of	259
	Dominica,	or	Domini-
	que	80,297
	Dorking	29,296
	"	known	to
	Columella	32
	Duke	of	Leeds	13,	75
	Experiments	in	Feed-
	ing	of	with	boiled
	Grain	J28
	Fattening	of	125
	Food	of,	compared	128
	found	on	the	Pacific
	Isles	16,17
	Frizzled	81
	Game	44,297
	PACKS.
	Fowl,	Domestic,	Geographical	Distribu-
	tion	of	15
	Golden	Hamburgh	51
	Poland	60,	63
	"	Spangled	58
	Great	Malay	37
	Immutability	of	Species
	of	73,	105
	Incubation	of	106
	Influenced	by	Food	and
	Climate	73
	Jago,	or	St.	Jago	...	39,74
	Jersey-Blue	77
	Jungle	19,21
	Kulm	37
	Killing	and	Preparing
	for	Market	132
	Lark-Crested	56
	Lime,	Soot,	Charcoal,
	&c.,	for	83,87
	Lost	Varieties	of	13
	Malay	37
	Minorca	26
	Mongrel	72
	Negro	81
	Nest	Boxes	for	85
	Nests	of,	Materials	for
	making	87
	not	found	in	the	Atlantic
	Isles,	when	discover-
	ed	by	the	Moderns	.	.	8
	not	mentioned	in	the
	Old	Testament	G
	Old	Sussex,	or	Kent	.	.	31
	Origen	and	History	of	.	5
	Ostrich	33,	78
	Paduan	60
	Paring	of	92
	Pencilled	Dutch	51
	Pheasant	40
	"	Breed	40
	"	Malay	40
	Plymouth-Rock	76
	Poland,	Polander,	or
	Polish	60
	Portugal	20
	Range	and	Domestic
	Accommodation	of..	81
	Rumkin,	or	Rumpless	.	81
	Shack-Back,	or	Shag-
	Bag	63,	75
	Shanghae	Cochin-China	75
	Silky	81
	Silver	Hamburgh	51
	"	Poland	f.O
	"	Spangled	Ham-
	burgh	58
	Spangled	Polish	60
	Spanish	26,	75
	Topknotted,	not	men-
	tioned	by	the	An-
	cients	12
	Weight	of	...	30,	35,	76,	78,
	79,	365
	White	Polish	GO,	63
	Turkish	51


yi	CHRONOLOGICAL	INDEX.
	SUBJECTS.	WRITERS.	PAGI.
	1781.	William	Greenough	William	Jenks,	D.	D	187
	1781.	Samuel	Nott,	D.	D	David	N.	Lord,	Esq	190
	1781.	David	Austin	Nicholas	Hurray,	D.	D
	Abel	McEwen,	D.	D	195
	1781.	Reuben	Puffer,	D.	D	Rev.	William	A.	lloughtoii
	Joseph	Allen,	D	D	200
	1782.	Seth	Payson,	D.	D	..	.Isaac	Robinson,	D.	D
	Rev.	Asa	Rand	209
	1782.	John	Crane,	D.	D	Joel	Hawes,	D.	D	,	214
	1784.	Joseph	McKeen,	D.	D	John	W.	Ellingwood,	D.	D
	Robert	Rantoul,	Esq	210
	1784.	Samuel	Austin,	D.	D	Rev.	Payson	Williston
	James	Murdock,	D.	D
	John	Nelson,	D.	D	221
	1784.	Jeremiah	Hallock	Rev.	Cyrus	Yale	229
	1784.	Moses	Cook	Welch,	D.	D	Samuel	Nott,	D.	D
	Rev.	Eleazar	Williams	234
	1784.	Abiel	Holmes,	D.	D	Rev.	Payson	Williston
	William	Jenks,	D.	D	240
	;	1785.	Jedediah	Morse,	D.	D	Rev.	Payson	Williston
	Isaac	Hurd,	D.	D
	John	Todd/D.	D
	S.	F	B.Morse,	Esq	247
	1785.	Richard	Salter	Storrs	Rev.	Payson	Williston
	Rev.	Daniel	Waldo	257
	1786.	Jacob	Catlin,	D.	D	John	C.	Brigham,	D.	D	260
	1786.	Mase	Shepard	Ray	Palmer,	D.	D	265
	1787.	Elijah	Parish,	D.	D	Leonard	Withington,	D.	D	268
	1788.	Abel	Flint,	D.	D	Rev.	Daniel	Waldo	273
	1788.	Jonathan	Strong,	D.	D	Rev.	R.	S.	Storrs.	D.	D	275
	1789.	Walter	Harris,	D.	D	Z.	S.	Barstow,	D.	D	277
	1789.	Azel	Backus,	D.	D	Bennett	Tyler,	D.	D
	Luther	F.	Dimmick,	D.	D	281
	1789.	Chauncey	Lee,	D.	D	Leonard	E.	Lathrop,	D.	D	288
	1789.	Herman	Daggett	Rev.	Timothy	Stone	291
	1790.	Ethan	Smith	Abraham	Burnham.	D.	D	296
	1790.	Alvan	Hyde,	D.	D	Heman	Humphrey,	D.	D
	Mark	Hopkins,	D.	D	300
	1790.	Nathaniel	Howe	Elam	Smalley,	D.	D	307
	1790.	Moses	Hallock	Theophilus	Packard,	D.	D	310
	1790.	Asahel	Hooker	Heman	Humphrey,	D.	D	316
	1791.	John	Elliott,	D.	D	E.	T.	Fitch,	D.	D	321
	1	1791.	Calvin	Chapin,	D.	D	Rev.	Daniel	Waldo
	Joel	Hawes,	D.	D	323
	1791.	Giles	Hooker	Cowles,	D.	D	Heman	Humphrey,	D.	D	330
	1792.	Asahel	Strong	Norton,	D.	D	Rev.	A.D.	Gridley	332
	1793.	William	Jackson.	D.	D	John	Maltby.	D.	D	336
	1793.	Elijah	Waterman	Rev.	Daniel"	Waldo	341
	1793.	Jonathan	Fisher	S.	L	Pomeroy,	D.	D	344
	1	1794.	Ebenezer	Porter,	D.	D	Ralph	Emerson,	D.	D
	Orville	Dewey,	D.	D	351
	1794.	Rufus	Anderson	Rufus	Anderson.	D.	D
	Samuel	Worcester,	D.	D	361
	1794.	Samuel	Shepard.	D.	D	Elisha	Yale,	D.	D.	364
	1794.	John	Fiske,	D.	D	.	Rev.	James	T.	Hyde	367
	1795.	Daniel	Dow,	D.	D	Rev.	William	A/Larned	369
	1795.	Abijah	Wines	Rev.	Kiah	Bayley	373
	1795.	Eliphalet	Gillet.	D.	D	Benjamin	Tappan.	D.	D	377
	1795.	Jesse	Appleton.	D.	D	Professor	A.	S.	Packard
	Rev.	Jotham	Sewall	380
	1796.	John	Smith,	D.	D.	(of	Bangor	Semi
	nary)	S.	L.	Pomeroy,	D.	D	389
	1796.	Zephaniah	Swift	Moore.	D.	D	Emerson	Davis,	D.	D
	Ebenezer	Emmons,	M.	D
	Hon.	Emery	Washburn	392
	1796.	Samuel	Worcester,	D.	D	Brown	Emerson,	D.	D
	Samuel	M.	Worcester,	D.	D	398
	1797.	Theophilus	Packard.	D.	D	Thomas	Snell,	D.	D
	Thomas	Shepard,	D.	D	408


ALPHABETICAL	INDEX
	OF	THE
	NAMES	OF	THOSE	WHO	HAVE	FURNISHED	ORIGINAL	LETTERS.
	A.
	Abbot,	Abiel,	D.	D.
	Adams,	George	E.,	D.	D,
	Allen,	Joseph,	D.	D.
	Allen,	William,	D.	D.
	Anderson,	Rufus,	D.	D.
	B.
	Bacon,	Hon.	Ezekiel.
	Bacon,	Leonard,	D.	D.
	Baldwin,	Hon.	Simeon.
	Bard	well,	Rev.	Horatio.
	Barstow,	Zedekiah	S-,	D.	D.
	Bayley,	Rev.	Kiah.
	Beecher,	Edward,	D.	D.
	Bissell,	Hon.	Clark.
	Blanch	ard,	Amos,	D.	D.
	Boardman,	Hon.	David	S.
	Bond,	Alvan,	D.	D.
	Bouton,	Nathanael,	D.	D.
	Bradley,	Rev.	Joshua.
	Brigham,	John	C.,	D.	D.
	Brown,	Samuel	G.,	D.	D.
	Burgess,	Ebenezer,	D.	D.
	Burnham,	Abraham,	D.	D.
	Burns,	Robert,	D.	D.
	C.
	Calhoun,	George	A.,	D.	D.
	Chapin,	Calvin,	D.	D.
	Cheever,	George	B.,	D.	D.
	Chester,	Albert	T.,	D.	D.
	Choate,	Hon.	Rufus.
	Clark,	Rev.	Rufus	W;
	Clement,	Jonathan,	D.	D.
	Cogswell,	Jonathan,	D.	D
	Condit,	J.	B.,	D.	D.
	Cook,	Parsons,	D.	D.
	Cooley,	Timothy	Mather,	D.	D.
	Cox,	Samuel	H.,	D.	D.
	D.
	Daggett,	Hon.	David.
	Dana,	Daniel,	D.	D.
	Dana,	Rev.	Samuel.
	Davies,	Rev.	Thomas	F.
	Davis,	Emerson,	D.	D.
	Day,	Hon.	Thomas.
	Dewey,	Chester,	D.	D.
	Dewey,	Orville,	D.	D.
	Vol.	II.	97
	Dimmick,	Luther	F.,	D.	D.
	Button,	Hon.	Henry.
	Dwight,	William	T.,	D.	D.
	E.
	Eldridge,	Rev.	Joseph.
	Ellingwood,	John	W.,	D.	D.
	Ely,	Alfred,	D.	D.
	Emerson,	Brown,	D.	D.
	Emerson,	Ralph,	D.	D.
	Emmons,	Ebenezer,	M.	D.
	F.
	Felton,	C.	C.,	LL.	D.
	Field,	David	D.,	D.	D.
	Fisher,	Rev.	Josiah.
	Fitch,	Eleazar	T.,	D.	D.
	Fowler,	Professor	William	C.
	Francis,	Convers,	D.	D.
	French,	Jonathan,	D.	D.
	Frothingham	N.	L.,	D.	D.
	Gibbs,	Professor	Josiah	Willard.
	Goodell,	Rev.	William.
	Goodrich,	Chauncey	A.,	D.	D.
	Goodrich,	Hon.	Elizur.
	Gridley,	Rev.	Amos	D.
	H.
	Hackett,	Horatio	B.,	D.	D.
	Haddock,	Charles	B..	D.	D.
	Hall,	Edwin,	D.	D.
	Hallock,	Gerard,	Esq.
	Haven,	Samuel	H.,	Esq.
	Hawes,	Joel,	D.	D.
	Hewitt,	Nathaniel,	D.	D.
	Hickok,	Laurens	P.,	D.	D.
	Hitchcock,	Edward,	D.	D.
	Hooker,	E.	W.,	D.	D.
	Hooker,	Rev.	Horace,
	Hopkins,	Mark,	D.	D.
	Hough,	John,	D.	D.
	Houghton,	Rev.	William	A.
	Humphrey,	Heman,	D.	D.
	Huntington,	Rev.	Daniel.
	Huntington,	F.	D.,	D.	D.
	Kurd,	Isaac,	D.	D.
	Hurlbut,	Rev.	Joseph.
	Hyde,	Rev.	James	T.


770
	ALPHABETICAL	INDEX.
	Ido,	Jacob,	D.	D.
	J.
	Jenks,	William,	D.	D.
	Jones,	Rev.	E.G.
	Judson,	Hon.	Andrew	T.
	K.
	King,	Jonas,	D.	D.
	Kingsley,	James	L.,	LL.	D.
	L.
	Labaree,	Benjamin,	D.	D.
	Larned,	Rev.	William	A.
	Lathrop,	Leonard	E.,	D.	D.
	Lawrence,	E.	A.,	D.	D.
	Lee,	Mrs.	Eliza	Buckminster.
	Lee,	Rev.	William	S.
	Lord,	David	N.,	Esq.
	Lord,	Nathan,	D.	D.
	Lowell,	Charles,	D.	D.
	M.
	Maltby,	John,	D.	D.
	Marcy,	Hon.	William	L.
	Marsh,	Rev.	Frederick.
	May,	Rev.	Samuel	J.
	M	Ewen,	Abel,	D.	D.
	Mead,	Rev.	Mark.
	Merwin,	Rev.	Samuel.
	Morris,	Rev.	Myron	N.
	Morse,	Rev.	Abner.
	Morse,	S.	F.	B.,	Esq.
	Murdock,	James,	D.	D.
	Murray,	Nicholas,	D.	D.
	N.
	Nelson,	John,	D.	D.
	Nelson,	Levi.	D.	D.
	Norton,	Asahel	S.,	D.	D.
	Nott,	Eliphalet,	D.	D.
	Nott,	Samuel,	D.	D.
	Nott,	Rev.	Samuel.
	Noyes,	Daniel	J.,	D.	D.
	0.
	Olmsted,	Denison,	LL.	D.
	Osgood,	Miss	Lucy.
	Osgood,	Samuel,	D.	D.
	Otis,	Hon.	Harrison	Gray.
	P.
	Packard,	Professor	A.	S.
	Packard,	Theophilus,	D.	D.
	Palmer,	Rev.	Edward.
	Palmer,	Ray,	D.	D.
	Park,	Edwards	A.,	D.	D.
	Peabody,	A.	P.,	D.	D.
	Peters,	Absalom,	D.	D.
	Pierce,	John,	D.	D.
	Pierpont,	Rev.	John.
	Pitman,	Rev.	B.	H.
	Pomeroy,	S.	L.,	D.	D.
	Poor,	Daniel,	D.	D.
	Porter,	David,	D.	D.
	Porter,	Noah,	D.	D.
	Putnam,	Israel,	W.,	D.	D.
	Putnam,	lion.	Samuel.
	Q.
	Quincy,	Josiah,	LL.	D.
	R.
	Rand,	Rev.	Asa.
	Rantoul,	Robert,	Esq.
	Richards,	Rev.	George.
	Robbins,	Rev.	Royal.
	Robbins,	Thomas,	D.	D.
	Robinson,	Edward,	D.	D.
	Robinson,	Isaac,	D.	D.
	S.
	Savage,	James,	LL.	D.
	Sawyer,	Rev.	John.
	Sedgwick,	Miss	Catharine	M.
	Sevvall,	Rev.	Jotham.
	Shaw,	Hon.	Lemuel.
	Shepard,	George,	D.	D.
	Shepard,	Thomas,	D.	D.
	Sherman,	Hon.	Roger	Minot.
	Shurtleff,	Roswell,	D.	D.
	Sigourney,	Mrs.	L.	H.
	Silliman,	Benjamin,	LL.	D.
	Smalley,	Elam,	D.	D.
	Smith,	David,	D.D.
	Smith,	Hon.	John	Cotton.
	Smith,	Worthington,	D.	D.
	Snell,	Thomas,	D.	D.
	Stearns,	J.	F.,	D.	D.
	Stearns,	W.	A.,	D.	D.
	Stone,	Rev.	A.	L-
	Stone,	Rev.	Micah.
	Stone,	Rev.	Timothy.
	Stone,	Rev.	Thomas	T.
	Storrs,	R.	S.,	D.	D.
	Stowe,	Calvin	E.,	D,	D.
	Strong.	Hon.	Lewis.
	Stuart,	Professor.
	Swift,	Hon.	Samuel.
	T
	Talcott,	Rev.	Harvey.
	Tappan,	Benjamin,	D.	D
	Taylor,	Hon.	H.	W.
	Taylor,	Nathaniel	W.,	D.	D
	Thompson,	Joseph	P.,	D.	D.
	Thurston,	David.	D.	D.
	Todd,	John,	D.	D.
	Torrey,	Joseph,	D.	D.
	Tyler,	Bennett,	D.	D.
	W.
	Waldo,	Rev.	Daniel.
	Ware,	Rev.	William.
	Warner,	Rev.	Aaron.
	Washburn,	Hon.	Emery.
	Waterbury,	Jared	B.,	D.	D.
	Way	land,	Francis,	D.	D.
	Wells,	Rev.	Nathaniel.
	Wheeler,	John,	D.	D.
	White,	Hon.	Daniel	Appleton.
	Whiton,	John	M..	D.D.


THE	STARRETT	BOOK
	Targets	123
	Testing	Cutting	Lips	of	Drills	4!)
	Testing	Flat	Filing	42
	Test	Indicator	.	.	.	.	67
	Testing	Turned	Taper	91
	Thread	Tool,	Form	of	82
	Thread	Tool,	Setting	84
	Tolerance,	Limits	of	32
	Tool	Holders	75
	Tool	Making	97
	Toolmakers'	Buttons	103
	Train	of	Gears	165
	Transferring	Measurements	26
	Truing	Work	in	Chucks	95
	Turning,	Work	Centers	69
	Universal	Dial	Test	Indicator	07,	103
	Vernier	Calipers	.	.	.	.-	16
	Vernier	Height	Gage	17.	10r>
	Vernier,	How	to	Read	22
	Vernier	Micrometer,	How	to	Read	23
	Vitrified	Wheels	109
	Wear	of	Micrometers	25
	Weight	per	Cuhic	Foot	of	Substances	170
	What	Hack	Saw	to	Use
	Windlass
	Work	Centers
	Work	Centers,	Locating	,	-	,
	Working	Drawing	Abbreviations
	Working	Drawings
	46
	154
	69
	89
	12
	182


The	Americans
	MILITIAMAN.
	Well,	my	tin	soldiers?	Under	a	shot	like	that
	To	stand	as	cold	as	you	do!
	(Shouts	in	the	ear	of	the	First	Sentry)
	Punch,	old	man!
	(To	himself)
	The	wind	of	liquor	and	they've	gone	dead	drunk!
	FIRST	SENTRY.
	(Starts	for	the	mill-gate,	then	turns}
	Who	said	'shut	up'	when	some	man	back	there	cried
	'Hurrah	for	Egerton'?
	MILITIAMAN.
	Cap.	Haskell.
	FIRST	SENTRY.
	(To	the	Second	Sentry)
	Eh?
	SECOND	SENTRY.
	Haskell	to	hell.
	FIRST	SENTRY.
	(Shouting	toward	the	mill)
	Hurrah	for	Egerton
	For	Governor!
	SECOND	SENTRY.
	Hip	hurrah!
	86


532	HALF	KING.	BATTLE	NEAR	GREAT	MEADOWS.	[Boox	V-
	you	this	answer."	"I	rely	upon	you	as	a	brother	ought	to	do,	as	you	say	w
	are	brothers,	and	one	people."	"	Brother,	as	you	have	asked	my	advice,	I
	hope	you	will	be	ruled	by	it,	and	stay	until	I	can	provide	a	company	to	go
	with	you.	The	French	speech	belt	is	not	here	;	1	have	it	to	go	for	to	my
	hunting	cabin.	Likewise	the	people,	whom	1	have	ordered	in,	are	not	yet
	come,	and	cannot	until	the	third	night	from	this;	until	which	time,	brother,
	1	must	beg	you	to	stay."
	When	Washington	told	him	that	his	business	would	not	admit	of	so	much
	delay,	the	chief	seemed	displeased,	and	said	it	was	"a	matter	of	no	smalt	mo
	ment,	and	must	not	be	entereil	without	due	consideration"	Perhaps	it	will	not
	be	too	much,	to	give	this	Indian	chief	credit	for	some	of	that	character	which
	was	so	well	exemplified	by	Washington	in	all	his	after-life.	And	"as	1	found
	it	impossible,"	says	the	narrator,	"	to	get	off,	without	affronting	them	in	die
	most	egregious	manner,	I	consented	to	stay."	Accordingly,	Half-king	gave
	orders	to	rving	Shingis,	who	was	present,	to	attend	on	Wednesday	night	with
	the	wampum,	and	two	men	of	their	nation,	to	be	in	readiness	to	set	out	with
	us	next	morning."	There	was	still	a	delay	of	another	day,	as	the	chiefs
	could	not	get	in	their	wampum	and	young	men	which	were	to	be	sent	;	and,
	after	all,	but	three	chiefs	and	one	hunter	accompanied.	"	We	set	out,"	says
	Washington,	"about	9	o	clock,	with	the	Half	-king,	Juskakaka,*	While-thunder,
	and	the	hunter	;	and	travelled	on	the	road	to	Venango,	where	we	arrived	the
	4th	of	December."	This	place	is	situated	at	the	junction	of	French	Creek
	with	the	Ohio.	Here	the	French	had	a	garrison,	and	another	a	short	distance
	above	it,	which	was	the	extent	of	onr	discoverer	s	peregrinations	northward.
	The	commanders	of	these	posts	used	all	means	to	entice	Half-king	to	desert
	the	English,	and	it	was	with	great	difficulty	that	Washington	succeeded	in
	preventing	them.	They	endeavored	to	weary	him	out	by	making	the	chiefs
	delay	then-	departure	from	day	to	day,	by	means	of	liquor,	so	that	they	should
	be	left	behind.	At	length,	having	out-genenilled	his	complolters,	and	"got
	things	ready	to	set	ofij	I	sent	for	the	Half-king"	continues	the	narrator,	"	to
	know	whether	he	intended	to	go	with	us,	or	by	water.	He	told	me	that
	White-thunder	had	hurt	himself	much,	and	was	sick,	and	unable	to	walk;
	therefore	he	was	obliged	to	carry	him	down	in	a	canoe	;	"	so,	notwithstanding
	the	delays,	Washington	was	obliged	to	go	without	him	;	but	he	cautioned	him
	strongly	against	believing	Monsieur	Joncaire	s	pretensions	of	friendship,	and
	representations	against	the	English.	Hern	ends	Washington	s	account	of
	Half-king.
	And	before	closing	our	account	of	the	termination	of	Washington	s	journey
	we	will	close	our	account	of	this	chief	also.	In	1754	he	accompanied	Wash"
	ingion	in	his	excursion	to	dislodge	the	French	from	the	disputed	territory
	upon	the	Ohio,	and	was	his	constant	counsellor,	until	after	the	surrender	of
	Fort	Necessity	at	the	Great	Meadows,	on	the	4	July.	At	the	surprise	of	M.
	de	Jumonville,	on	the	28	May	previous,	he	led	a	company	of	his	warriors,
	and	piloted	the	English	under	Washington	to	the	place	where	he	was	encamped,
	which	was	but	a	few	miles	from	Great	Meadows.	Jumonville	s	force	was
	small,	consisting	of	but	about	33	men.	The	night	previous	to	the	attack,
	Half-king,	who	was	encamped	&ix	miles	from	Great	Meadows,	having	made
	a	discovery	of	the	approach	of	the	French	force,	sent	an	express	to	Washing
	ton,	to	inform	him	that	the	French	were	discovered	in	an	obscure	retreat.
	The	colonel	immediately	marched	out	with	40	men	and	reached	Half-king	s
	quarters	a	little	before	sunrise.	A	council	was	now	held	by	the	chiefs	of	the
	parties,	and	it	WHS	agreed	that	the	English	and	Indians	should	march	together
	and	attack	the	French.	They	marched	in	single	file	through	the	woods,	in
	the	Indian	manner,	in	a	most	dismal	storm	of	rain	;	and	following	the	track
	just	explored	by	Half	-king	s	spies,	soon	found	themselves	near	the	party
	Jumonville	was	in	a	secure	place,	half	a	mile	from	a	road,	and	surrounded
	by	rocks,	and	had	he	not	been	fallen	upon	by	surprise,	it	is	doubtful	whether
	the	attacking	party	had	not	found	it	difficult	to	have	contended	successfully
	*	We	hear	again	of	this	chief	in	J794,	when,	with	58	others,	he	signed	a	treaty	with	lh
	United	Slates	at	Fort	Stanwix.	His	name	is	there	written	Jisldcaaga,	whicVi	signified	agree*
	granht/pper.	He	was	sometimes	called	Little-Hilly.


FORMATIVE	POWER	OF	INDIVIDUAL	PARTS.	551
	adult	condition,	the	germinal	capacity	has	undergone	a	gradual	diminution,
	whilst	the	exercise	of	the	animal	powers	has	become	vastly	increased,	the	forma-
	tive	processes	are	only	capable	of	maintaining	the	organism	in	its	state	of	com-
	pleteness	and	vigor,	by	making	good	the	losses	consequent	upon	the	continual
	disintegration	to	which	it	is	subjected	by	its	nervo-muscular	activity	(	132).
	And	with	the	advance	of	years,	the	further	diminution	of	the	reproductive
	capacity	involves,	on	the	one	hand,	a	progressive	decrease	in	the	substance	of
	the	tissues	and	organs	most	important	to	life	(their	bulk,	however,	frequently
	remaining	unchanged,	or	even	increasing,	in	consequence	of	the	accumulation
	of	fat),	and	on	the	other,	a	gradual	weakening	of	its	powers	of	action	(	133).
	591.	The	performance	of	the	function	of	Nutrition,	the	demand	for	which
	arises	out	of	the	causes	that	have	been	now	discussed,	is	dependent,	not	merely
	upon	a	due	supply	of	pure	and	well-elaborated	blood,	but	also	upon	the	normal
	condition	of	the	part	to	be	nourished,	and	especially	upon	its	possession	of	a
	right	measure	of	"	formative	capacity	"	in	virtue	of	which,	the	newly	produced
	tissues	are	generated	in	the	likeness,	as	well	as	in	the	place,	of	those	which	have
	become	effete.	The	exactness	of	this	replacement	is	most	remarkably	shown	in
	the	retention	of	the	characteristic	form	and	structure	of	each	separate	organ	or
	part	of	the	body,	and	thus	of	the	entire	organism,	through	a	long	series	of	years	;
	no	changes	being	apparent	(so	long	as	the	state	of	health	is	preserved),	but	such
	as	are	conformable	to	the	general	type	of	that	alteration	which	the	organism
	undergoes	with	the	advance	of	life.	And	not	only	is	this	to	be	noticed	in	the
	conservation	of	all	those	distinguishing	points	of	structure	which	mark	the
	species,	and	are	essential	to	its	well-being	;	but	it	is	still	more	remarkably	dis-
	played	in	the	continuous	renewal	of	those	minor	peculiarities,	which	constitute
	the	characteristic	features	of	the	individual,	and	which	serve	to	distinguish	him
	from	his	fellows.	And	how	much	this	depends	upon	the	formative	capacity
	originally	derived	from	the	germ,	is	evident	from	this,	that	a	similar	moulding
	(so	to	speak)	of	the	nutritive	material	takes	place,	in	the	first	instance,	into	the
	form	characteristic	of	the	species,	and	afterwards	into	that	which	marks	the
	individual,	and	that	the	peculiarities	of	the	individual	are	frequently	such	as
	have	been	distinctive	of	one	or	other	of	the	parents,	or	present	a	combination	of
	both.	But	it	is	curious	that	the	formative	power	should	often	be	exercised,	not
	only	in	maintaining	the	original	type,	but	also	in	keeping	up	some	acquired
	peculiarity;	as,	for	example,	in	the	perpetuation	of	a	cicatrix	left	after	the
	healing	of	a	wound.	For,	as	Mr.	Paget	has	remarked,	the	tissue	of	a	cicatrix
	grows	and	assimilates	nutrient	material,	exactly	as	do	its	healthy	neighboring
	tissues	;	so	that	a	scar	which	a	child	might	have	said	to	be	as	long	as	his	own
	forefinger,	will	still	be	as	long	as	his	forefinger	when	he	becomes	a	man.	And
	when	the	mode	of	nutrition	in	any	part	has	been	altered	by	disease,	there	is
	frequently	an	obstinate	tendency	to	the	perpetuation	of	the	same	alteration	;	or,	if
	the	healthy	action	be	for	a	time	restored,	there	is	a	peculiar	tendency	to	the	renewal
	of	the	morbid	process	in	the	part	;	and	this	is	stronger	the	more	frequently	it
	recurs,	until	at	last	it	becomes	inveterately	established.	There	is,	however,	in	the
	tissues	generally,	as	in	the	blood	(	207),	a	general	tendency	to	a	return	to	the
	normal	type,	after	it	has	undergone	a	temporary	perversion	;	and	thus	it	is	that	we
	find	the	normal	structure	of	parts	gradually	restored,	when	the	morbid	tendency
	has	been	overcome;	and	that	even	cicatrices	and	indurations,	notwithstanding	their
	usual	obstinate	persistence,	occasionally	disappear.	The	normal	type	is,	perhaps,
	less	likely	to	be	thus	recovered,	when	the	departure	from	it	is	very	slight,	and
	its	leaves	being	shed	far	more	frequently,	and	being	replaced	much	more	speedily	;	so	that
	two,	or	even	three,	successive	exuviations	and	reproductions	of	its	foliage	may	take	place
	"within	a	year.


482	OPJGEN	AGAINST	CELSUS.	[BOOK	vn.
	not	only	those	who	are	reputed	to	be	learned	in	the	literature
	of	Greece,	but	also	the	rest	of	mankind,	accommodated	itself
	to	the	capacities	of	the	simple	multitudes	whom	it	addressed.
	It	seeks	to	win	the	attention	of	the	more	ignorant	by	the	use
	of	language	which	is	familiar	to	them,	so	that	they	may	easily
	be	induced,	after	their	first	introduction,	to	strive	after	an
	acquaintance	with	the	deeper	truths	which	lie	hidden	in	Scrip
	ture.	For	even	the	ordinary	reader	of	Scripture	may	see	that
	it	contains	many	things	which	are	too	deep	to	be	apprehended
	at	first	;	but	these	are	understood	by	such	as	devote	themselves
	to	a	careful	study	of	the	divine	word,	and	they	become	plain
	to	them	in	proportion	to	the	pains	and	zeal	which	they	expend
	upon	its	investigation.
	CHAPTER	LXT.
	From	these	remarks	it	is	evident,	that	when	Jesus	said
	"	coarsely,"	as	Celsus	terms	it,	"	To	him	who	shall	strike	thee
	on	the	one	cheek,	turn	the	other	also	;	and	if	any	man	be
	minded	to	sue	thee	at	the	law,	and	take	away	thy	coat,	let	him
	have	thy	cloak	also,"	1	He	expressed	Himself	in	such	a	way	as
	to	make	the	precept	have	more	practical	effect	than	the	words
	of	Plato	in	the	Crito	;	for	the	latter	is	so	far	from	being	intel-
	*	O
	ligible	to	ordinary	persons,	that	even	those	have	a	difficulty	in
	understanding	him,	who	have	been	brought	up	in	the	schools	of
	learning,	and	have	been	initiated	into	the	famous	philosophy	of
	Greece.	It	may	also	be	observed,	that	the	precept	enjoining
	patience	under	injuries	is	in	no	way	corrupted	or	degraded	by
	the	plain	and	simple	language	which	our	Lord	employs,	but
	that	in	this,	as	in	other	cases,	it	is	a	mere	calumny	against	our
	religion	which	he	utters	when	he	says	:	"	But	let	this	suffice	as
	one	example	of	the	way	in	which	this	and	other	truths	have
	been	borrowed	and	corrupted.	Any	one	who	wishes	can	easily
	by	searching	find	more	of	them."
	CHAPTER	LXII.
	Let	us	now	see	what	follows.	Let	us	pass	on,"	says	he,	"	to
	another	point.	They	cannot	tolerate	temples,	altars,	or	images.
	In	this	they	are	like	the	Scythians,	the	nomadic	tribes	of	Libya,
	i	Matt.	v.	39,	40.


270	HISTOIRES	EXTRAORDINAIRES
	et	rouge,	avec	les	armes	ducales	de	la	famille	S	Ici,
	la	suscription	était	d'une	écriture	menue	et	féminine	;
	dans	l'autre,	Tadresse,	portant	le	nom	d'une	personne
	royale,	était	d'une	écriture	hardie,	décidée	et	caracté-
	risée;	les	deux	lettres	ne	se	ressemblaient	qu'en	un
	point,	la	dimension.	Mais	le	caractère	excessif	de	ces
	différences,	fondamentales	en	somme,	la	saleté,	l'état
	déplorable	du	papier,	fripé	et	déchiré,	qui	contre-
	disaient	les	véritables	habitudes	de	D...,	si	métho-
	diques,	et	qui	dénonçaient	l'intention	de	dérouter	un
	indiscret	en	lui	offrant	toutes	les	apparences	d'un
	document	sans	valeur,	—	tout	cela,	en	y	ajoutant	la
	situation	impudente	du	document	mis	en	plein	sous
	les	yeux	de	tous	les	visiteurs	et	concordant	ainsi
	exactement	avec	mes	conclusions	antérieures,	—	tout
	cela,	dis-je,	était	fait	pour	corroborer	décidément
	les	soupçons	de	quelqu'un	venu	avec	le	parti	pris	du
	soupçon.
	«	Je	prolongeai	ma	visite	aussi	longtemps	que
	possible,	et,	tout	en	soutenant	une	discussion	très
	vive	avec	le	ministre	sur	un	point	que	je	savais	être
	pour	lui	d'un	intérêt	toujours	nouveau,	je	gardais
	invariablement	mon	attention	braquée	sur	la	lettre.


NEW	GLEANINGS	IN	FIELD	AND	WOOD
	pushed	out	two	or	three	feet	over	the	barren	surface
	and	then	seemed	to	hesitate	like	a	traveler	in	the
	desert	whose	strength	begins	to	fail.	The	first
	knot,	or,	one	might	say,	the	first	encampment,	was
	about	one	foot	from	the	last	one	upon	the	turf,	the
	next	one	about	eight	inches	farther	in;	then	the
	distance	dropped	to	six	inches,	then	to	four.	I
	think	the	runner	finally	gave	it	up	and	stopped
	reaching	out.	Each	group	of	leaves	apparently
	draws	its	main	sustenance	from	the	one	next	be-
	hind	it,	and	when	this	one	fails	to	reach	the	soil	it
	loses	heart	and	can	give	little	succor	to	the	next	in
	front.	The	result	is	that	the	stools	become	smaller
	and	smaller,	and	the	distances	between	them	less
	and	less,	down	the	whole	line.
	Nature's	methods	are	seen	in	the	little	as	well
	as	in	the	big,	and	these	little	purple	runners	of	the
	vine	pushing,	out	in	all	directions	show	the	all-
	round-the-circle	efforts	of	Nature	as	clearly	as	do
	the	revolving	orbs	in	sidereal	space.	Her	living
	impulses	go	out	in	all	directions.	She	scatters	her
	seeds	upon	the	barren	as	well	as	upon	fertile	spots.
	She	sends	rains	and	dews	upon	the	sea	as	well	as
	upon	the	land.	She	knows	not	our	parsimony	nor
	our	prudence.	We	say	she	is	blind,	but	without
	eyes	she	is	all	-seeing;	only	her	creatures	who	live	to
	particular	ends,	and	are	limited	to	particular
	spheres,	have	need	of	eyes.	Nature	has	all	time
	and	all	space	and	all	ends.	Delays	and	failure	she
	213


66	POETRY	AND	IMAGINATION
	virtue.	He	is	the	true	Orpheus	who	writes	his
	ode,	not	with	syllables,	but	men.	"	In	poetry,"
	said	Goethe,	"only	the	really	great	and	pure
	advances	us,	and	this	exists	as	a	second	nature,
	either	elevating	us	to	itself,	or	rejecting	us."
	The	poet	must	let	Humanity	sit	with	the	Muse
	in	his	head,	as	the	charioteer	sits	with	the	hero
	in	the	Iliad.	"	Show	me,"	said	Sarona	in	the
	novel,	"	one	wicked	man	who	has	written	poetry,
	and	I	will	show	you	where	his	poetry	is	not
	poetry	;	or	rather,	I	will	show	you	in	his	poetry
	no	poetry	at	all."	*
	I	have	heard	that	there	is	a	hope	which	pre
	cedes	and	must	precede	all	science	of	the	visible
	or	the	invisible	world	;	and	that	science	is	the
	realization	of	that	hope	in	either	region.	I	count
	the	genius	of	Swedenborg	and	Wordsworth	as
	the	agents	of	a	reform	in	philosophy,	the	bring
	ing	poetry	back	to	Nature,	to	the	marrying
	of	Nature	and	mind,	undoing	the	old	divorce	in
	which	poetry	had	been	famished	and	false,	and
	Nature	had	been	suspected	and	pagan.	The
	philosophy	which	a	nation	receives,	rules	its	re
	ligion,	poetry,	politics,	arts,	trades	and	whole
	history.	A	good	poem	say	Shakspeare's	Mac
	beth,	or	Hamlet,	or	the	Tempest	goes	about
	the	world	offering	itself	to	reasonable	men,	who


R	.C	D	LD
	-	-	-i-	7	1962
	CBL
	of	SUMMER	Period	JUH	S	7	10	8


THE	CUP	OF	YOUTH	169
	The	moon	is	quite	enough.	Will	he	be	long?
	Now,	kindly	uncle,	for	this	pretty	play.
	[She	conceals	herself	in	a	corner.	Enter	UBERTO.
	UBERTO.	At	last,	t	is	near.	The	stairs	my	constant
	feet
	Have	worn	with	many	steps	more	toilsome	grow.
	The	hounds	of	time	are	on	their	panting	prey;
	I	wait	no	longer.	No	man	owns	to-morrow.
	To-morrow	is	the	fool	s	to-day.	Ah,	soon
	I	shall	go	gaily	tripping	down	the	hill,
	Glad	as	a	springtide	swallow	on	the	wing,
	A	man	new	born.	Nay,	this	is	like	to	death.
	Why	should	I	falter	here?	We	both	are	old.
	Soon	in	the	common	way	our	steps	would	part.
	And	to	be	young	;	to	feel	the	sinews	strong,
	Eye,	ear,	and	motion	quick,	the	brain	all	life,
	The	visions	of	my	manhood	round	me	whirl,
	White	limbs,	red	lips,	and	love	s	delirious	dream,
	The	passion	kiss	of	wine,	the	idle	hours
	Unmissed	from	youth	s	abounding	heritage.
	Off,	off,	ye	brutal	years	that	gnaw	our	age	!
	Come,	joy!	come,	life!	life	at	the	full	of	flood!
	[Pauses.
	Birth	is	not	ours.	We	are,	and	that	is	all.
	Death	is	not	ours.	We	die,	and	that	is	all.
	This	stranger	birth	that	waits	upon	my	will,
	Ay,	this	is	mine	alone.	The	herd	of	men
	Are	born	and	die.	One	sole	ignoble	lot
	Awaits	them	all.	This	none	can	share	with	me.
	Auspicious	planets	shine	upon	the	hour.
	[Takes	the	hour-glass.


CHAP.	VI.]	CHRISTOPHER	COLUMBUS.	193
	It	was	a	part	of	this	tribe	which	displayed	hostility	to	the
	Spaniards	in	the	course	of	the	first	voyage	of	Columbus,	and
	in	a	skirmish	with	them	in	the	Gulf	of	Semana	the	first	drop
	of	native	blood	had	been	shed	in	the	New	World.	The
	reader	may	remember	the	frank	and	confiding	conduct	of
	these	people	the	day	after	the	skirmish,	and	the	intrepid	faith
	with	which	their	cacique	trusted	himself	on	board	of	the	car
	avel	of	the	admiral,	and	in	the	power	of	the	Spaniards.	It
	was	to	this	same	cacique,	named	Mayobanex,	that	the	fugi
	tive	chieftain	of	the	Vega	now	applied	for	refuge.	He	carne
	to	his	residence	at	an	Indian	town	near	Cape	Cabron,	about
	forty	leagues	east	of	Isabella,	and	implored	shelter	for	his
	wife	and	children,	and	his	handful	of	loyal	followers.	The
	noble-minded	cacique	of	the	mountains	received	him	with
	open	arms.	He	not	only	gave	an	asylum	to	his	family,	but
	engaged	to	stand	by	him	in	his	distress,	to	defend	his	cause,
	and	share	his	desperate	fortunes.*	Men	in	civilized	life	learn
	magnanimity	from	precept,	but	their	most	generous	actions
	are	often	rivaled	by	the	deeds	of	untutored	savages,	who	act
	only	from	natural	impulse.
	VOL.	II.	9


my	sake,	and	I	vill	kill	him	after
	wards	for	yours."
	I	put	on	my	hat	a	little	unsteadily,
	still	thinking	more	of	that	awful
	brutish	face	than	of	the	Baron.	Mrs.
	Steele	comes	up	with	note-book	open
	in	her	hand.
	"	I've	just	seen	the	most	dreadful
	little	old	crone,"	she	says	cheerily;
	"	she's	like	some	grotesque	dream
	why,	what's	the	matter	?"
	She	breaks	off,	looking	at	me	as
	we	stand	under	the	lamplight	just
	outside	the	door.
	"	It	must	be	the	same	thing	I
	saw,"	I	say	to	the	Baron;	"what	a
	goose	I	am	but	it	looked	like	noth
	ing	human	in	the	half	light.	I	was	so
	scared,"	I	confess,	a	little	nervously.


281
	ITEM	Th'Ynner	Cbambre	of	th'Uper	Hous	in	the	Gardyn	within
	the	Manner	of	Lekingfield	to	have	on	Monday	Wedinsday	and
	Fiyday	thorowt	the	Wekc	ij	Shids	and	a	Fagott	Contenyng	in
	the	Wek	vj	Shids	and	iij	Fagottes	In	the	Monneth	in	Shids
	xxiiij	And	in	Fagotts	xij	And	in	the	iij	Monneths	Ixxij	Shids
	and	xxxvj	Fagotts	Which	amontith	in	every	Moneth	in	Money
	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	And	in	Fagotts	after	v	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.
	Sum	of	all	the	Money	and	Fevvell	for	the	said	Hous	in	the	Weke
	j	d.	ob.	q	d	.	And	in	the	Monyth	vij	d.	ob.	And	in	the	iij	Montlies
	bitwix	Alhalowtid	and	Shraftide	xxij	d.	ob.
	ITEM	The	Wardrobe	within	the	Mannor	of	Lekinfield	to	have
	on	Monday	Wedinsday	and	Fryday	thorout	the	Weke	ij	Shids
	and	a	Fagot	Contenyng	vj	Shids	and	iij	Fagots	In	the	Month
	in	Shids	xxiiij	and	in	Fagots	xij	And	in	the	iij	Monthes	in	Shids
	Ixxij	and	xxxvj	Fagotts	Which	amontith	in	every	Month	in
	Money	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	In	Fagots	after	v.	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.
	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the	said	Hous	in	the	Wek	is	j	d.	ob.
	q".	In	the	Month	vij	d.	ob.	And	in	the	iij	Monnethes	bitwix
	Alhallowtid	and	Shaftid	xxij	d.	ob,
	ITEM	Th'Armory	within	the	Mannor	of	Lekingfield	to	have	on
	Monday	Wedinsday	and	Fryday	thorowt	the	Weke	ij	Shids	and
	a	Fagotte	Contenyng	in	the	Wek	vj	Shides	and	iij	Fagotts	And
	in	the	Month	in	Shids	xxiiij	and	in	Fagots	xij	And	in	the	iij
	Monthes	in	Shids	Ixxij	and	in	Fagotts	xxxvj	Which	amontith	in
	every	Month	in	Mone}'	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	And	in	Fagotts
	after	v	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the	said	Hous
	in	the	Wek	is	j	d.	ob.	q	d	.	In	the	Moneth	is	vij	d.	ob.	And	in	the
	iij	Monthes	bitwix	Alhallowtid	and	Shraftide	xxij	d.	ob.
	ITEM	The	Vestry	within	the	Mannor	of	Lekingfield	to	have	on
	Monday	Wedinsday	and	Fryday	thorout	the	Wek	ij	Shids	and
	a	Fagott	Contenyng	in	the	Wek	vj	Shids	and	iij	Fagotts	In	the
	Month	in	Shids	xxiiij	and	in	Fagots	xij	And	in	thre	Monnethes
	in	Shids	Ixxij	and	xxxvj	Fagotts	Which	amontith	in	all	every
	Monthe	in	Money	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	And	in	Fagotts	after
	v	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the	saide	Hous	in	the
	Wek	jd.	ob.	q	d	.	In	the	Monthe	vijd.	ob.	And	in	the	iij	Monnythes
	bitwix	Alhallowtide	and	Shraftid	xxij	d.	ob.
	VOL.	IV.	Oo	THE


283
	Weke	vj	Shids	and	iij	Fagotts	In	the	Monnetli	in	Shids	xxiiij
	and	Fagott^	xij	And	in	the	iij	Monnethes	in	Shids	Ixxij	and
	xxxvj	Fagotts	Which	amontith	to	in	every	Month	in	Money
	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	And	in	Fagots	after	v	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.
	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the	said	Hous	in	the	Weke	is	j	d.	ob.
	q".	In	the	Month	vij	d.	ob.	And	in	the	iij	Monthes	bitwix	Al-
	halowtid	and	Shraftid	xxij	d.	ob.
	ITEM	The	Chambre	over	the	Hall	within	the	said	New	Loge
	to	have	on	Monday	Wedinsday	and	Fryday	thorout	the	Weke
	j	Fagott	and	ij	Shids	Contenyng	in	the	Weke	vj	Shids	and	iij
	Fagotts	In	the	Month	in	Shids	xxiiij	in	Fagotts	xij	And	in	the
	iij	Monethis	in	Shids	Ixxij	And	in	Fagotts	xxxvj	Which	amoutith
	in	every	Month	in	Money	after	v	Shids	jd.	vd.	And	in	Fagots
	after	v	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the	said	Hous
	in	the	Wek	is	j	d-	ob.	q*.	In	the	Moneth	vij	d.	ob.	And	for
	the	iij	Monthes	bitwix	Alhallowtid	and	Shraftid	-	xxijd!.	ob.
	ITEM	The	Chambre	over	the	Keching	within	the	said	New	Loge
	to	have	on	Monday	Wedinsday	and	Fryday	thorout	the	Weke
	ij	Shids	and	a	Fagott	contenyng	vj	Shids	and	iij	Fagotts	in	the
	Weke	In	the	Month	xxiiij	Shids	and	xij	Fagotts	And	in	the
	iij	Monethes	in	Shids	Ixxij	and	xxxvj	Fagotts	Which	amontith
	in	every	Monyth	in	Money	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	And	in
	Fagotts	after	v	j	d.	ij	d.	ob.	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the
	said	Hous	in	the	Weke	is	j	d.	ob.	q	d	.	In	the	Month	vij	d.	ob.
	And	in	the	iij	Monthes	bitwix	Allialowtide	and	Shraftide	--
	xxij	d.	ob.
	J	ite/i	io
	ITEM	The	Hall	within	the	New	Loge	to	have	on	Monday
	Wedinsday	ande	Fryday	thorout	the	Weke	ij	Shids	and	a	Fagott
	Contenyng	in	the	Wek	vj	Shids	and	iij	Fagotts	In	the	Monthe
	in	Shids	xxiiij	and	in	lagots	xij	And	in	the	iij	Monthes	in
	Shids	Ixxij	and	in	Fagotts	xxxvj	Which	amontith	in	every
	Moneth	in	Money	after	v	Shids	j	d.	v	d.	In	Fagotts	after
	vjrf.	ij	d.	ob.	Sum	of	all	the	Fewell	for	the	said	Hous	in	the
	Weke	is	\d.	ob.	q	d	.	In	the	Month	vij	d.	ob.	And	for	the	iij
	Monnethes	bitwix	Alhallowtid	and	Shraftid	-	xxij	d.	ob.
	Ooa	THE


EPH.	III.	17.]	THE	EPISTLE	TO	THE	EPHESIANS.	393
	loves	us	too,	yet	it	is	the	Father	s	love	is	the	original	of	all.	The	more	you
	apprehend	the	love	of	the	Father,	whether	you	do	it	in	assurance,	or	whether
	you	do	it	in	adoring	that	love,	and	cleaving	to	that	love,	and	following	after
	that	love	you	apprehend	in	the	Father;	the	more	you	do	this,	the	more
	doth	God	the	Father	dwell	in	you	:	therefore	the	Apostle	prayeth	*	that
	Christ	may	dwell	in	your	hearts	by	faith,	that	ye	being	rooted	and	grounded
	in	love	:	but	it	is	in	the	love	of	God	the	Father.	But
	2.	Jesus	Christ	dwelleth	in	us	by	faith,	so	it	is	said	here,	and	we	live	in
	Christ	by	faith	:	Gal	ii.	20;	I	live;	yet	not	I,	but	Christ	liveth	in	me	:	and
	the	life	which	I	now	live	in	the	flesh	I	live	by	the	faith	of	the	Son	of	God.
	But	doth	not	Christ	dwell	in	us	by	love	too	1	It	is	certain	that	Jesus	Christ
	dwelleth	in	us	by	love	too	;	for	he	is	our	husband,	and	therefore	it	must	be
	that	he	also	dwelleth	in	us	by	love.	But	yet	for	all	that,	though	he	dwell
	in	us	by	love	as	well	as	the	Father,	yet	our	converses	with	him	are	more
	eminently	by	faith;	he	dwelleth	in	us	by	faith,	not	but	that	the	Father
	dwelleth	in	us	by	faith	too,	but	Christ	more	properly.	And	in	Acts	xx.
	21,	it	is	called	repentance	towards	God,	and	faith	towards	our	Lord	Jesus
	Christ	:	not	but	that	we	repent	unto	Christ	too,	but	faith	is	the	most	emi
	nent	thing	towards	Christ	in	this	life.	But
	3.	The	Spirit	is	said	to	dwell	in	us	also	;	but,	my	brethren,	the	Spirit	is
	not	said	to	dwell	in	us	by	faith	:	which	yet	is	not	to	be	understood	as	if	we
	do	not	believe	in	him,	but	that	the	soul	doth	exercise	the	main	of	its	act
	ing	of	faith	upon	Christ,	as	its	more	specially	delighted	object:	but	the
	Spirit	lies,	as	it	were,	hid	in	the	heart,	and	works	faith	in	us	towards	Christ,
	and	love	in	us	towards	God.	I	do	not	say	that	we	are	not	at	all	to	exercise
	faith	and	love	upon	the	Spirit	:	there	is	faith	in	the	Spirit,	it	is	said	in	the
	Creed,	I	believe	in	the	Holy	Ghost,	and	love	to	the	Spirit,	in	a	Christian	;
	as	you	find	Rom.	xv.	30.	It	is	said	there,	for	Christ	s	sake,	and	for	the
	love	of	the	Spirit.	So	that	there	is	a	love	towards	the	Spirit	in	a	Christian;
	a	love	in	us	to	the	Spirit,	for	the	Spirit	s	own	love	to	us.	As	also,	because
	it	is	the	Spirit	that	sheds	abroad	the	love	of	God	in	our	hearts.	The	Spirit
	works	in	us	love	to	God	and	faith	in	Christ	Jesus	:	but	he	lies	hid,	and	as
	it	were	dormant	in	our	hearts,	and	we	little	perceive	how	he	is	in	us.
	I	shall	add	another	query	for	the	further	explanation	of	the	text	:
	Query	3.	Doth	Christ	dwell	in	our	hearts	only	by	faith?	or	doth	he	not
	otherwise	dwell	in	us	than	by	the	exercise	of	our	faith	upon	him	I	Doth
	not	the	person	of	Christ	himself	dwell	in	us,	and	not	only	by	our	faith	?
	I	answer,	according	to	that	light	I	have,	and	I	humbly	submit	what	I
	shall	say,	Christ	himself	dwells	in	you	immediately	by	himself.	That	is
	my	answer;	and	I	oppose	it	to	those	that	either	say	that	he	dwells	in	us
	only	by	his	Spirit,	or	to	many	others	who	would	lower	that	also,	and	say
	that	both	Christ	s	and	the	Spirit	s	dwelling	in	us	is	but	by	the	graces	they
	work	in	us;	for	still,	in	their	speaking	of	this	union,	they	express	no	more;
	and	not	so	only,	but	also	so	limit	it	thereto	herein.	It	must	be	acknow
	ledged	that	their	graces	do	dwell	in	us,	and	that	they	with	their	graces.
	Yea,	others	say,	that	his	very	dwelling	in	us	by	faith	is	but	by	faith	as	it	is
	a	grace	;	which	were	all	one	and	to	say,	he	dwells	no	otherwise	in	us	by
	faith	than	as	he	doth	by	our	mourning	for	sin,	and	by	every	act	that	is	holy
	which	we	put	forth,	for	they	are	graces.	Even	as	some	have	said	of	late
	that	we	are	justified	by	love,	and	mourning	for	sin,	and	every	grace,	as	well
	as	by	faith.	Xo,	brethren,	Jesus	Christ	dwells	in	us	by	faith,	taking	him	as
	its	most	proper	object	appointed	for	it,	and	by	going	out	of	ourselvesto	him	:
	Gal.	ii.	20,	21,	I	am	crucified	with	Christ;	nevertheless	I	live;	yet	not	I,


THE	FATE	OF	THE	SEMIRAMIS.	319
	edly	toward	the	law-and-order	deserted	city.	"You	are
	going	with	us,	are	you	not?"	he	asks.
	"No;	I	shall	remain	here."
	"Your	safety	lies	with	yonder	yacht."
	"Safety?	Ah,	senor,	somewhere	on	this	isle	is	one
	dearer	to	me	than	personal	security."	And	the	young
	man	turns	away	to	hide	his	emotion.
	"But	you	can	gain	nothing	by	remaining	here	now.
	The	survivors	of	the	late	scrimmage	have	recognized
	you	and	in	half	an	hour	the	whole	town	will	be	at	your
	heels.	Aboard	my	yacht	you	will	be	safe	and	I	will	gladly
	land	you	at	any	point	on	the	island	you	may	designate.
	Besides,	the	papers	"
	"Say	no	more,	senor,''	exclaims	El	Terredo,	extending
	his	hand.	"I	accept	your	generous	offer.''
	Dismissing	his	faithful	followers,	with	the	assurance
	that	he	will	be	with	them	again	ere	many	days,	the	revo
	lutionary	leader	steps	into	one	of	the	waiting	boats.
	As	they	are	about	to	push	off	a	soldier	whose	horse
	is	flecked	with	foam	comes	dashing	down	the	beach,	and
	as	he	leaps	from	his	well-nigh	broken	steed,	he	calls	out
	cheerily:
	"Got	room	for	one	more?"
	"Ah!	My	friend	of	the	cafe,"	cries	Van	Zandt.	"You
	are	very	welcome,	senor."
	"And	just	in	time,"	remarks	John	Barker,	detective,	as
	with	a	hearty	thwack	he	sends	his	horse	riderless	down
	the	beach	and	clambers	into	the	boat.
	CHAPTER	LVL
	THE	FATE	OF	THE	SEMIRAMIS.
	"And	now,	what?"
	The	boats	have	reached	the	Semiramis.	Louise	Hath
	away	has	been	tenderly	assisted	to	the	deck	by	Van
	Zandt,	followed	by	Navarro	and	Barker,	and	the	dead


the	Affairs	of	others.	157
	In	our	several	stations	we	are	all	sent	forth	SERMON
	to	be	labourers	in	God	s	vineyard.	Every
	man	has	his	work	allotted,	his	talent	com
	mitted	to	him	;	by	the	due	improvement
	of	which	he	might,	in	one	way	or	other,
	serve	God,	promote	virtue,	and	be	useful
	in	the	world.	Occupy	till	I	come,	is	the
	charge	given	to	all	Christians	without	ex
	ception.	To	be	entirely	unemployed	and
	idle,	is	the	prerogative	of	no	one,	in	any
	rank	of	life.
	Even	that	sex,	whose	task	is	not	to
	mingle	in	the	labours	of	public	and	active
	business,	have	their	own	part	assigned
	them	to	act.	In	the	quiet	of	domestic
	shade,	there	are	a	variety	of	virtues	to
	be	exercised,	and	of	important	duties	to
	be	discharged.	Much	depends	on	them
	for	the	maintenance	of	private	oeconomy
	and	order,	for	the	education	of	the	young,
	and	for	the	relief	and	comfort	of	those
	whose	functions	engage	them	in	the	toils
	of	the	world.	Even	where	no	such	female
	duties	occur	to	be	performed,	the	care	of
	preparing	for	future	usefulness,	and	of
	attaining	such	accomplishments	as	procure
	just


244	TWELVE	YEAKS	A	SLAVE.
	the	overseer,	mounting	on	to	the	rick,	drew	him	forth.
	As	he	rolled	down	to	the	ground	the	whole	pack
	plunged	uK&gt;n	him,	and	before	they	could	be	beaten
	off,	had	gnawed	and	mutilated	his	body	in	the	most
	shocking	manner,	their	teeth	having	penetrated	to
	the	bone	in	an	hundred	places.	He	was	taken	up,
	tied	upon	a	mule,	and	carried	home.	But	this	was
	Augustus	last	trouble.	He	lingered	until	the	next
	day,	when	death	sought	the	unhappy	boy,	and	kindly
	relieved	him	from	his	agony.
	It	was	not	unusual	for	slave	women	as	well	as	slave
	men	to	endeavor	to	escape.	Nelly,	Eldret	s	girl,	with
	whom	I	lumbered	for	a	time	in	the	"	Big	Cane
	Brake,"	lay	concealed	in	Epps	corn	crib	three	days.
	At	night,	when	his	family	were	asleep,	she	would
	steal	into	the	quarters	for	food,	and	return	to	the	crib
	again.	We	concluded	it	would	.no	longer	be	safe	for
	us	to	allow	her	to	remain,	and	accordingly	she	re
	traced	her	steps	to	her	own	cabin.
	But	the	most	remarkable	instance	of	a	successful
	evasion	of	dogs	and	hunters	was	the	following	:
	Among	Carey	s	girls	was	one	by	the	name	of	Celeste.
	She	was	nineteen	or	twenty,	and	far	whiter	than	her
	owner,	or	any	of	his	offspring.	It	required	a	close
	inspection	to	distinguish	in	her	features	the	slightest
	trace	of	African	blood.	A	stranger	would	never
	have	dreamed	that	she	was	the	descendant	of	slaves.
	I	was	sitting	in	my	cabin	late	at	night,	playing	a	low
	air	on	my	violin,	when	the	door	opened	carefully,	and
	Celeste	stood	before	me.	She	was	pale	and	haggard


"THE	GATEWAY	"OF	HELL."	307
	over	the	narrow	valley	of	the	Amacwass,	we	halted,
	and	made	our	camp,	maintaining	throughout	the
	night	a	great	fire,	not	less	for	its	cheerful	influences
	than	for	protection	against	the	fierce	black	tigers,	or
	pumas,	which	abound	on	this	flank	of	the	moun
	tains.	We	heard	their	screams,	now	near,	now
	distant,	to	which	the	monkeys	responded	with
	alarmed	and	anxious	cries,	so	like	those	of	human
	beings	in	distress,	as	more	than	once	to	startle	me
	from	my	slumbers.	These	caricatures	on	humanity
	seemed	to	be	more	numerous	here	than	further
	down	the	coast,	and	we	often	saw	large	troops	of
	them	in	the	overhanging	trees,	where	they	gravely
	contemplated	us	as	we	drifted	by.	Occasionally
	one,	more	adventurous	than	the	rest,	would	slide
	down	a	dependent	limb	or	vine,	scold	at	us	vehe
	mently	for	a	moment,	and	then	scramble	back	again
	hurriedly,	as	if	alarmed	at	his	own	audacity.
	On	the	second	day	the	current	of	the	Amacwass
	became	more	gentle,	and	jus.t	before	night	we	shot
	out	of	its	waters	into	the	large	and	comparatively
	majestic	Patuca.	Our	course	down	this	stream	was
	not	so	rapid.	In	places	the	current	was	so	slight
	that	it	became	necessary	to	use	our	paddles	;	while
	elsewhere	the	greatest	caution	was	requisite	to	guide
	our	boat	safely	over	the	numerous	chiflones	or	rapids
	by	which	it	was	interrupted.	But	these,	though
	difficult,	and	in	some	instances	dangerous,	sunk	into
	insignificance	when	compared	with	what	is	called
	El	Portal	del	Infierno,	or	the	"	Gateway	of	Hell."
	My	Poyer	boy	had	several	times	alluded	to	it,	as


177
	Chao:	If	it's	something	about	my	experience,	I	might	add,	"This	is
	what	I	remember."
	RL:	Does	she	ever	criticize	your	English?
	Chao:	On	the	whole,	she	doesn't	do	that	very	much,	except	when	I	have
	questions	to	ask	her;	then	she'll	give	her	opinions.
	RL:	She	has	a	wonderfully	readable	style.	What	is	her	Chinese	style
	like?
	Chao:	It's	written	in	the	colloquial	with	some	influence	from	the
	classical.	When	you	write	down	characters	on	paper,	the	tendency
	is	to	draw—because	you	were	trained	in	classical	language	at
	first,	there	is	always	a	tendency	to	write	in	classical	style,
	which	is	more	brief,	you	see,	unless	the	text	is	meant	to	teach
	spoken	Chinese,	for	instance,	we	just	let	it	go	at	that.
	RL:	Would	much	younger	people,	who	have	not	been	educated	in	the
	classical	style,	have	any	difficulty	in	reading	it?
	Chao:	I	don't	think	they	would	because	people,	even	now	in	China,	when
	they	write	with	characters	don't	have	to	do	it	exactly	the	way
	it's	spoken,	which	usually	takes	more	syllables	and	more
	characters.
	RL:	What	sort	of	reception	did	the	first	two	books	have	when	they
	were	published	in	the	forties?
	Chao:	The	cookbook	had	a	great	reception	and	I	don't	remember	how	many
	editions.	The	autobiography	was	published	and	they	anticipated
	it	would	be	a	best	seller,	but	unfortunately	it	came	out	at	the
	time	of	Roosevelt's	death,	I	think.	Originally	it	was	published
	by	John	Day,	now	it's	taken	up	by	Greenwood	Press.	The	cookbook
	is	also	originally	by	John	Day	and	now	by	Random	House.	They	put
	out	a	paper	edition—Vintage	Books.	Quite	recently,	she	has
	something	else—	How	to	Order	and	Eat	in	Chinese.*
	RL:	I'm	looking	forward	to	that	very	much.
	Chao:	You	haven't	got	a	copy	yet?	We	have	some	extra	copies	and	I'll
	make	a	note	to	be	sure	to	send	you	one.
	*Random	House,	Vintage	Books,	1974.


84	HISTORY	OF	THE
	of	Menominie	Indians	under	his	command,	took
	them	and	went	clear	through	the	Island	and	hunted
	it	out	thoroughly.	They	returned	in	the	evening,
	bringing	the	news	that	the	Indians	had	left	this	Island.
	General	Atkinson	was	again	deceived	by	those	treach
	erous	Winnebagoes,	but	in	place	of	putting	the	old
	one	eyed	chief	to	death,	he	still	consulted	them	[him].
	They	[He]	next	told	him	that	Black	Hawk	was	still
	higher	up	the	stream,	on	what	was	called	the	Tumbling
	Land.	62	Colonel	Fry's	bridge,	that	he	had	spent	the
	best	part	of	this	day	at	with	more	than	one	hundred
	hands,	was	now	kicked	over	and	abandoned.
	We	now	found	that	there	was	no	dependence	to	be
	placed	in	those	treacherous	Winnebagoes.	The	men
	now	had	been	marching	through	swamps	for	a	con
	siderable	length	of	time	without	success;	and	no	exe
	cution	done,	only	what	General	Posey's	men	had	done
	by	killing	the	old	blind	Indian.	We	now	plainly	saw
	that	Black	Hawk	knew	we	were	in	his	neighborhood.
	He	knew	all	the	passes	between	those	swamps,	and
	could	evade	our	pursuit	for	some	time;	which	dis
	couraged	our	men	very	much.
	Here	his	Excellency	Governor	Reynolds	and	his
	aids	left	us;	likewise	Colonel	T.	W.	Smith,	who	had
	been	promoted	to	the	office	of	Adjutant	General,
	which	office	was	not	then	of	much	service	to	us.
	Col.	A.	P.	Field,	General	Henry's	aid,	and	Major
	Breese,	also	left	us,	(some	on	furlough	and	some
	discharged,)	and	returned	home:	These	men	at	this
	time	did	not	believe,	that	there	would	be	any	fighting,
	or	I	think	they	would	not	have	left	the	army.
	We	here	were	in	another	bad	box.	We	were	in	a
	manner	out	of	provision;	and	the	nearest	point	to	us,
	where	we	could	get	a	supply	was	Fort	Winnebago,
	which	was	about	eighty	miles	distant	from	us;	and	to
	get	it,	we	were	compelled	to	go	through	the	most


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Club	rooms.	Two	years	later,	and	again	partially	with	the	advance	on	a	Book
	Club	commission,	I	was	able	to	install	the	Kelly	B	in	the	garden	level	of	my
	home	at	One	Tuscany	Alley.	Here	I	produced	My	First	Publication,	edited	with
	introductions	by	James	D.	Hart.	Through	an	exchange	of	services	I	secured
	from	David	Stone	Martin,	one	of	America's	leading	illustrators,	twelve	original
	drawings	of	the	authors	at	the	approximate	age	of	their	first	appearance	in
	print.	This	book	had	at	least	two	distinctions:	with	its	sequence	of	colored
	papers	for	the	introductions	it	was	undoubtedly	the	most	gaudy	Club	volume
	to	date,	surpassing	even	Tie	Coppa	Murals',	and	it	probably	had	the	most	tip-ins,
	patiently	handled	by	the	Schuberth	Bookbindery	with	European	finesse.	Upon
	its	publication	it	was	exhibited	at	an	open-house	at	the	Club	together	with
	some	of	my	other	recent	design	work:	cookbooks,	novels,	textbooks,	paper
	backs,	most	of	them	in	strictly	unlimited	editions.	If	there	were	any	horrified
	members,	to	them	I	say,	"Vive	la	difference!"	Such	uninhibited	exhibitions,
	such	unfettered	publications,	and	such	spirited	open-houses	can	happen	only
	at	The	Book	Club	of	California.	Long	may	it	prosper!
	A	PORTFOLIO	OF	BOOK	CLUB	PRINTERS,	1912-1962,
	The	Book	Club	of	California'	s^oth	Anniversary	Keepsake,
	consists	of	twelve	folders,	each	printed	by	or	about	presses	associated
	with	the	printing	history	of	the	Book	Club.