tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222902232011-10-10T00:32:08.744-07:00NEW BOOK BY F W BOREHAM It is not known when the famous author Dr. Boreham commenced work on this book. The idea emerged of a book consisting of 365 editorials—one for every day of the year. Boreham had written a weekly editorial for two leading Australian newspapers for over forty-seven years. Many of his editorials were prompted by the significance of a particular day, this being aided by an almanac listing the births and deaths of famous people, and other notable anniversaries.Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comBlogger368125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-63189277011756425832007-01-18T09:13:00.000-08:002007-01-18T09:14:40.205-08:002007-01-18T09:14:40.205-08:00

All essays (one for each day of the year) have been posted on this site.The essay for the 11 February can be found in the February 2006 archives or by hitting this link:11 February: Boreham on Thomas EdisonGeoff Pound

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-40870075245651728882007-01-18T09:05:00.000-08:002007-01-18T09:09:33.346-08:002007-01-18T09:09:33.346-08:00

A Golden TraditionIn view of the sensational strides that surgery has taken in recent years, it is eminently fitting that we should offer our homage to the illustrious memory of Lord Lister, the anniversary of whose death we mark today. It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that the history of surgery divides itself into two epochs—before Lister, and after. In the old days, as Tyndall put it, "we

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-69468122566238008342007-01-18T08:59:00.000-08:002007-01-18T09:04:24.975-08:002007-01-18T09:04:24.975-08:00

A Sailor's PhilanthropyNothing in the nature of romance appears to underlie the announcement contained in the latest English newspapers to the effect that the children of the Foundling Hospital have now taken possession of their new home at Ashlyns, Berhampstead.[1] In point of fact, however, one of the most affecting stories in the annals of the Empire—a story that may almost be classified as an

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-2791425712102703222007-01-18T08:55:00.000-08:002007-01-18T08:59:22.778-08:002007-01-18T08:59:22.778-08:00

Imagination and ScienceAt the age of 20, Jules Verne, whose birthday we mark today, burst upon Paris. For years he had cherished romantic dreams of tasting the bohemian life of the capital. He arrived to find the city in the throes of revolution. Blood was flowing in the streets; paving stones were being torn up to build barricades; the king was being bundled off the throne.Bewildered and

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A Celestial AlchemistSir William Huggins, whose birthday this is, was essentially one of the pick-and-shovel men of science. He was known as the Chemist of the Stars. He had his own ideas; he worked along his own line without thought of fame or fortune; but he eventually compelled the world to pay rapt attention to his discoveries. Approaching the normal span of human existence, he was elected to

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-11043247626205707642007-01-18T08:44:00.000-08:002007-01-18T08:49:47.309-08:002007-01-18T08:49:47.309-08:00

A Dog with a Bad NameChristopher Marlowe, whose birthday this is, has been regarded as the scapegrace of English literature always. His character was supposed to be entirely disreputable and it was deemed incorrect to mention his name in polite society. He was said to have lived a short and shameless life and to have died, at the age of 29, a disgusting death in a drunken quarrel. The records

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-75517370374538472252007-01-18T08:39:00.001-08:002007-01-18T08:43:59.741-08:002007-01-18T08:43:59.741-08:00

A Literary CalamityOn this anniversary of the death of Thomas Carlyle it is good to remember the day when, John Stuart Mill drove up to the home of the Carlyles in Cheyne Row to make an astounding confession. When Carlyle had completed the first volume of his "French Revolution," he lent the manuscript to Mill for inspection and suggestion. In some way, that has never been satisfactorily

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-57920885543729999202007-01-18T08:34:00.000-08:002007-01-18T08:39:00.945-08:002007-01-18T08:39:00.945-08:00

Lavender and Old LaceThe name of Mary Braddon, the anniversary of whose death we mark today, suggests fragrant memories. As it falls upon our ears we seem to be entering some old-world garden, redolent of hollyhocks, wallflowers, thyme, and mignonette. The name holds a special interest for Tasmanians. For Miss Braddon's brother, Sir Edward Braddon, P.C., K.C.M.G., became Premier of this State,

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-12560107062265418782007-01-18T08:28:00.000-08:002007-01-18T08:33:49.622-08:002007-01-18T08:33:49.622-08:00

The Song of the SoilGeorge Crabbe, the anniversary of whose death we mark today, has two outstanding claims upon our everlasting gratitude. The first is that, in his own time, he achieved a phenomenal triumph in defiance of the most heartbreaking hindrances and handicaps; and the second is that, if he did not himself attain to the foremost rank among our English singers, he at least blazed a

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A Tangled WebNo patriotic Frenchman allows the second of February to pass without reflecting that was on that day, that Charles Maurice Talleyrand was born. No name in history. excites, at one and the same time, as much admiration and as much execration as does his. No praise is sufficiently high, no strictures sufficiently severe, with which to characterise the diverse aspects of his

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-38211059031262491792007-01-18T06:18:00.000-08:002007-01-18T06:22:00.835-08:002007-01-18T06:22:00.835-08:00

The Boy Who Built An EmpireIt was at this time in 1725 that the people of Russia were in mourning following the death of Peter the Great on the twenty-eighth of January.[1] It seems incredible that Russia, which occupies so much of our attention nowadays, is in reality so extremely young. Queen Elizabeth was on the throne of England before the first foundations of national life in Russia had been

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-65590381275390747792007-01-18T05:14:00.000-08:002007-01-18T05:17:26.945-08:002007-01-18T05:17:26.945-08:00

Sweetness and LightAmong writers of our time, is there one to whom we feel more deeply indebted than to John Galsworthy, the anniversary of whose death we mark today? To have read the Forsyth Saga is to have imbibed a liberal education, not only in letters but in life.Galsworthy was one of the most magnetic and most dynamic figures of the years between the two wars. Rather above medium height, of

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An Explosive GeniusAn hour with Walter Savage Landor, whose birthday is marked today, is like a visit to the zoo. It is highly entertaining and instructive, but you come away with a vivid memory of gleaming fangs and ominous growls. Living to be nearly 90, he spent most of his time in singing like an archangel and fuming like a fiend. It is difficult to discover the name of one individual among

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The Artist of the SteppesOn this day, the day after the anniversary of his death, there will steal into the hearts of every Russian, a grateful thought of Fyodor Dostoyevsky, one of the most passionate patriots and one of the most powerful novelists of all time. Dostoyevsky's influence was phenomenal. When, he passed away, he was accorded such a funeral as his country people had never before

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The Happy WarriorIt was on January the twenty-eighth, 1833, that Charles George Gordon was born in Woolwich, near London. The British people have seldom been more cruelly shocked than when they heard, on January twenty-sixth, 1885, that Khartoum had fallen, and General Gordon had been slain. Not since the news of the battle of Trafalgar and the death of Nelson had so profound an impression been

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-29954708395962773772007-01-17T19:54:00.000-08:002007-01-17T19:59:38.086-08:002007-01-17T19:59:38.086-08:00

A Handicapped HistorianFew men have attained literary distinction in defiance of more formidable handicaps than those that hampered W. H. Prescott, the anniversary of whose passing occurs tomorrow. Although, in his modesty, he emphatically disclaimed the credit of having surmounted the cruel obstacles which lie in the path of the blind man, the fact is that he was nearly sightless. As a boy he

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-23407375671997844632007-01-17T19:47:00.000-08:002007-01-17T19:54:33.816-08:002007-01-17T19:54:33.816-08:00

Australia Looks BackAustralia Day reminds us that history has its stately sym-bolisms. What could be richer in figurative significance than the dramatic episode that we commemorate today, on Australia Day? A British fleet anchors in a lonely antipodean bay; the ships of an ancient people find themselves surrounded by the strange vegetation of a new world; and, out of this fusion of antiquity and

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Laureate's InspirationHas justice ever been done to the influence upon English literature of Dorothy Wordsworth, the anniversary of whose death we mark today? Wordsworth himself confessed that his sister inspired the best work he ever did. Coleridge as good as said that, but for her, his own "Ancient Mariner" would never have been written. And she profoundly influenced the note of Lamb, Hazlitt,

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-15405385059688903492007-01-17T19:39:00.000-08:002007-01-17T19:42:46.295-08:002007-01-17T19:42:46.295-08:00

Satin and SackclothLike Nanki-poo, the wandering minstrel in "The Mikado," Charles Kingsley, the anniversary of whose birthday recurs tomorrow, is a thing of shreds and patches. It may justly be claimed that the patches are purple patches; but it must be confessed that the shreds are tattered shreds. The brilliance of the one, only throws into a more painful relief, the raggedness of the other.

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-23535014739783781702007-01-17T19:34:00.000-08:002007-01-17T19:38:35.900-08:002007-01-17T19:38:35.900-08:00

A Noble Son of a Noble SireJanuary 23 stands intimately associated with one of the most resounding names in our imperial story. On January 23, 1781, William Pitt first took his seat in Parliament and on January 23, 1806, exactly a quarter of a century later, he died. Inheriting a name that was mentioned almost with awe, in every corner of the world, the younger Pitt not only maintained the

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-9937063955103518502007-01-17T19:30:00.000-08:002007-01-17T19:33:43.729-08:002007-01-17T19:33:43.729-08:00

A Philosophic PantheonWe are all idolaters. It is in the blood. We may not now worship Thor and Woden, Freya and Tyr, at least under those names but we have our idols yet. In a passage that Macaulay regarded as among the greatest and most influential contributions ever made to literature, Francis Bacon whose birthday this is, charged us with worshipping four. And he named them. Beware, he said,

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The Spirit of HistoryIt was on January 21, 1859 that Henry Hallam, the eminent historian, passed away. The anniversary suggests an inquiry as to the value and interest of such chronological records. In one of his clever essays, the Hon. Augustine Birrell tells of an old lady who, on being asked to a certain historical lecture, promptly declined the invitation on the ground that she believed in

Geoff Poundnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22290223.post-64505618017284709672007-01-17T03:13:00.000-08:002007-01-17T03:16:26.152-08:002007-01-17T03:16:26.152-08:00

Truth and BeautyVersatility has to pay the penalty of its own catholicity. The reflection is suggested by the circumstance that it was on this date in the year 1900, that John Ruskin passed from us. There are dangers attached to being many-sided. If a man confines their attention to one subject, or even to one set of subjects, he will have his admirers and he will have his detractors but he will

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The Trail of a MeteorWe mark today the birthday of one to whom it is very difficult to do justice. Edgar Allan Poe, who passed away at the age of forty, represents in his own person the most pathetically forlorn figure in the annals of literature. His sudden and untimely death was like the vanishing from the sky of a brilliant meteor that, momentarily blinding us by its dazzling brilliance,

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Stars and SpanglesLiving amidst a raging cyclone of controversy and criticism, Bulwer Lytton, whose death we mark today has always represented a baffling and insoluble enigma.It would be as easy to review a thunderstorm as to review his tempestuous life story. It is a realm of fierce passions and confused emotions. He is one of those writers whom it is impossible to classify. He followed no

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