eBook-Cover Art

The Memoirs of Jacques CASANOVA de Seingalt Vol. I (of VI) "Venetian Years": The First Complete and Unabridged English Translation, Illustrated with Old Engravings

2017-07-16T21:23:00.000+07:00

Fiction > Erotica

Description

by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt (Author), Arthur Machen (Editor, Translator)

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

I will begin with this confession: whatever I have done in the course of my life, whether it be good or evil, has been done freely; I am a free agent.

The doctrine of the Stoics or of any other sect as to the force of Destiny is a bubble engendered by the imagination of man, and is near akin to Atheism. I not only believe in one God, but my faith as a Christian is also grafted upon that tree of philosophy which has never spoiled anything.

I believe in the existence of an immaterial God, the Author and Master of all beings and all things, and I feel that I never had any doubt of His existence, from the fact that I have always relied upon His providence, prayed to Him in my distress, and that He has always granted my prayers. Despair brings death, but prayer does away with despair; and when a man has prayed he feels himself supported by new confidence and endowed with power to act. As to the means employed by the Sovereign Master of human beings to avert impending dangers from those who beseech His assistance, I confess that the knowledge of them is above the intelligence of man, who can but wonder and adore. Our ignorance becomes our only resource, and happy, truly happy; are those who cherish their ignorance! Therefore must we pray to God, and believe that He has granted the favour we have been praying for, even when in appearance it seems the reverse. As to the position which our body ought to assume when we address ourselves to the Creator, a line of Petrarch settles it:

'Con le ginocchia della mente inchine.'

Man is free, but his freedom ceases when he has no faith in it; and the greater power he ascribes to faith, the more he deprives himself of that power which God has given to him when He endowed him with the gift of reason. Reason is a particle of the Creator's divinity. When we use it with a spirit of humility and justice we are certain to please the Giver of that precious gift. God ceases to be God only for those who can admit the possibility of His non-existence, and that conception is in itself the most severe punishment they can suffer.

Man is free; yet we must not suppose that he is at liberty to do everything he pleases, for he becomes a slave the moment he allows his actions to be ruled by passion. The man who has sufficient power over himself to wait until his nature has recovered its even balance is the truly wise man, but such beings are seldom met with.

The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led. How many changes arise from such an independent mode of life! My success and my misfortunes, the bright and the dark days I have gone through, everything has proved to me that in this world, either physical or moral, good comes out of evil just as well as evil comes out of good. My errors will point to thinking men the various roads, and will teach them the great art of treading on the brink of the precipice without falling into it. It is only necessary to have courage, for strength without self-confidence is useless. I have often met with happiness after some imprudent step which ought to have brought ruin upon me, and although passing a vote of censure upon myself I would thank God for his mercy. But, by way of compensation, dire misfortune has befallen me in consequence of actions prompted by the most cautious wisdom. This would humble me; yet conscious that I had acted rightly I would easily derive comfort from that conviction.

Myths of Greece and Rome: Narrated with Special Reference to Literature and Art With Full Illustrated

2017-07-09T23:17:00.000+07:00

Fiction > Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology

Description

by H. A. (Hélène Adeline) Guerber

The readers reviews

Ensiform's review: Jan 29, 12

bookshelves: fiction, mythology
Read in August, 2003

Revised by Dorothy Margaret Stuart. A formidable tome, retelling a great many of the myths, from creation and the twelve main gods to Bellerophon to the Trojan War to the Aeneid. The language is rich and literate, representative of the time the book was written (originally published in 1907). Guerber also adorns her retellings with excerpts from Milton, Shakespeare, Keats and other poets whose work was drenched in mythological allusion. She finishes the book with some interesting comments on interpretation of myth.

Her style is on the whole pleasingly arch, as for example when she mentions that Cronus must have been “not of a very inquiring turn of mind” when he swallows a rock instead of Zeus. On the negative side, Guerber often robs the tales of their drama: she skims over such incredible feats as Bellerophon’s destruction of the invincible Solymi, and fails to tell how exactly the sons of Boreas destroyed the harpies, or where King Admetus managed to find and ride a chariot drawn by boars. I also found the tales gutted in places; I’m not speaking of obvious bowdlerization such as references to homosexuality, but surprising omissions such as how Heracles ripped Theseus’ hips when he rescued him from Hades, or why Echo was punished by Hera (it wasn’t just for talking too much). Guerber doesn’t even make it explicit that Achilles refuses to fight in the Iliad! These odd gaps aren’t too distracting, however, as Guerber is usually thorough, and as noted before, her style is entertaining.

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Martha Wilkins's review: Dec 11, 11

I own a copy

This book is very informative and I am glad to say that learned a lot from it. I would like to comment on the fact that the author uses a lot of words throughout the book that are not very common and unless you have an extensive vocabulary, you might want to have a dictionary nearby. The author also does not make the distinction between the Roman names and the Greek names given to the Gods; unless you are already familiar with their names it may require independent research. Aside from that, he does a good job of going through each myth and he even adds snippets of famous works from literature which pertain to the myth being discussed.

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"THE aim of this book is to present a complete and entertaining account of Grecian and Roman mythology in such a manner that the student will appreciate its great influence upon literature and art.

These myths, an inexhaustible fund of inspiration for the poets and artists of the past, have also inspired many noted modern works. To impress this fact forcibly upon the student, appropriate quotations from the poetical writings of all ages, from Hesiod’s “Works and Days,” to Tennyson’s “Œnone,” have been inserted in the text, while reproductions of ancient masterpieces and noted examples of modern painting and sculpture are plentifully used as illustrations.

The myths are told as graphically and accurately as possible, great care being taken, however, to avoid the more repulsive features of heathen mythology; and when two or more versions of the same myth occur, the preference has invariably been given to the most popular, that is to say, to the one which has inspired the greatest works.

Both the Latin and the Greek forms of proper names are given, but the Latin names are usually retained throughout the narrative, because more frequently used in poetry and art.

The closing chapter includes an analysis of myths by the light of philology and comparative mythology, and the philological explanation of the stories related in the preceding chapters.

A map, genealogical table, and complete glossary and index adapt this little volume for constant use in the library and art gallery, at home and abroad."__Pref.

Woodbine-Arbor or the Little Gardeners: A Story of a Happy Childhood

2017-07-02T19:01:00.000+07:00

Gardening > General

Description

by Anonymous

Let me tell you, my dear young reader, about a happy little family of three brothers and three sisters, who lived in a pleasant home, not far from the great city of New-York. Their father, Mr. Howard, was a wealthy merchant, and had his store in the city, to which he usually rode early in the morning, directly after breakfast, and returned home in season to take tea with his family. He had six children, the little folks whom I am now going to tell you about.

The girls were named Maria, Elizabeth, and Harriet. The boys were Henry, Charles, and John.—Henry was the oldest, then Charles, Maria, John, Elizabeth, and Harriet.

Their home was a beautiful country-seat, situated not far from the East river, with fine old shade trees in front of it. In the rear was a very large garden, laid out with great neatness and taste, and well stocked with fruits and flowers. Then there were walks and borders, and summer-houses, and arbors, and almost every thing which could render it a delightful place.

Joel: A Boy of Galilee (Illustrated)

2017-07-01T18:58:00.000+07:00

Juvenile Fiction > Classics

Description

by Annie F.(Annie Fellows) Johnston (Author), L. J. (Lewis Jesse) Bridgman (Illustrator)

"In this volume, it has been the purpose of the author to present to children, through "Joel," as accurate a picture of the times of the Christ as has been given to older readers through "Ben Hur." With this in view, the customs of the private and public life of the Jews, the temple service with its sacerdotal rites, and the minute observances of the numerous holidays have been studied so carefully that the descriptions have passed the test of the most critical inspection. An eminent rabbi pronounces them correct in every detail.

While the story is that of an ordinary boy, living among shepherds and fishermen, it touches at every point the gospel narrative, making Joel, in a natural and interesting way, a witness to the miracles, the death, and the resurrection of the Nazarene.

It was with the deepest reverence that the task was undertaken, and the fact that the little book is accomplishing its mission is evinced not only by the approval accorded its first editions by so many, from Bible students to bishops, but by the boys and girls here and in distant lands."--Publisher's Pref.

The Lincoln Year Book: Axioms and Aphorisms from the Great Emancipator (Full Illustrated)

2017-06-30T18:04:00.000+07:00

History > Americas

Description

by Abraham Lincoln (Author)
Compiled by Wallace Rice

JANUARY

The dogmas of the past are inadequate to the stormy present.

FIRST

Always do the very best you can.

SECOND

If our sense of duty forbids, then let us stand by our sense of duty.

THIRD

It's no use to be always looking up these hard spots.

FOURTH

All I am in the world, I owe to the opinion of me which the people express when they call me "Honest Old Abe."

FIFTH

The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself in every way he can, never suspecting that anybody is hindering him.

About the Author

ABRAHAM LINCOLN (1809-1865), 16th President of the United States (1861-65), was one of the nation's greatest success stories. Born in Hardin County, Kentucky, his family moved frequently forcing Lincoln to gain what education he could along the way. While reading law, he worked in a store, managed a mill, surveyed and split rails. As a result of his passion for hard work, Lincoln developed great ability in law, a ready grasp of argument, and sincerity, color, and lucidity of speech evident during his long and distinguished career in public life.

Æsop's Fables: Embellished with One Hundred and Eleven Emblematical Devices (Full Illustrated)

2017-06-29T17:50:00.000+07:00

Juvenile Fiction > Legends, Myths, Fables > Greek & Roman

Description

by Æsop

PREFACE,
BY S. CROXALL.

So much has been already said concerning Æsop and his writings, both by ancient and modern authors, that the subject seems to be quite exhausted. The different conjectures, opinions, traditions, and forgeries, which from time to time we have had given to us of him, would fill a large volume: but they are, for the most part, so inconsistent and absurd, that it would be but a dull amusement for the reader to be led into such a maze of uncertainty: since Herodotus, the most ancient Greek historian, did not flourish till near an hundred years after Æsop.

As for his Life, with which we are entertained in so complete a manner, before most of the editions of his Fables, it was invented by one Maximus Planudes, a Greek Monk; and, if we may judge of him from that composition, just as judicious and learned a person, as the rest of his fraternity are at this day observed to be. Sure there never were so many blunders and childish dreams mixed up together, as are to be met with in the short compass of that piece. For a Monk, he might be very good and wise, but in point of history and chronology, he shows himself to be very ignorant. He brings Æsop to Babylon, in the reign of king Lycerus, a king of his own making; for his name is not to be found in any catalogue, from Nabonassar to Alexander the Great; Nabonadius, most probably, reigning in Babylon about that time. He sends him into Egypt in the days of Nectanebo, who was not in being till two hundred years afterwards; with some other gross mistakes of that kind, which sufficiently show us that this Life was a work of invention, and that the inventor was a bungling poor creature. He never mentions Æsop's being at Athens; though Phædrus speaks of him as one that lived the greatest part of his time there; and it appears that he had a statue erected in that city to his memory, done by the hand of the famed Lysippus. He writes of him as living at Samos, and interesting himself in a public capacity in the administration of the affairs of that place; yet, takes not the least notice of the Fable which Aristotle tells us he spoke in behalf of a famous Demagogue there, when he was impeached for embezzling the public money; nor does he indeed give us the least hint of such a circumstance. An ingenious man might have laid together all the materials of this kind that are to be found in good old authors, and, by the help of a bright invention, connected and worked them up with success; we might have swallowed such an imposition well enough, because we should not have known how to contradict it: but in Planudes' case, the imposture is doubly discovered; first, as he has the unquestioned authority of antiquity against him; secondly, (and if the other did not condemn him) as he has introduced the witty, discreet, judicious Æsop, quibbling in a strain of low monastic waggery, and as archly dull as a Mountebank's Jester.

Life of Beethoven: Including his correspondence with his friends, numerous characteristic traits, and remarks on his musical works.

2017-06-27T16:07:00.000+07:00

Music > Individual Composer & Musician

Description

by Anton Schindler (Author), Ignaz Moscheles (Editor)

INTRODUCTION.

DURING the painful illness of full four months which terminated in the death of Ludwig van Beethoven, he was one day conversing with Hofrath von Breuning and myself on the subject of Plutarch's Lives. Breuning took advantage of the long-wished-for opportunity to ask Beethoven, apparently without any particular object, which of his contemporaries he should prefer for his biographer. Without the least hesitation, he replied, "Rochlitz, if he should survive me." He went on to say that it might be anticipated with certainty, that after his decease many officious pens would hasten to amuse the world with stories and anecdotes concerning him, utterly destitute of truth—for such is the usual lot of those who have had any influence upon their times. It was, therefore, his sincere wish that whatever might hereafter be said concerning him "should be in every respect strictly consonant with truth, no matter how hard it might bear upon this or the other person, or even upon himself."

This sentiment of Beethoven's, uttered at a moment when his dissolution appeared to us to be near at hand—though his physicians still held out to him some hopes of recovery, while at the same time they felt thoroughly convinced of its impossibility—this sentiment was too important for us to neglect following it up. In so doing, however, we were obliged to proceed with the utmost caution; as indeed we were in everything which, in his state of severe suffering, had any reference, however remote, to death: for his imagination, more excited than when in health, ranged through the universe, formed projects of tours, of prodigious compositions, and other enterprises. In short, he had no idea that death was so near, neither would he take any warning of its approach. In fact, all his desire was to live; for he still intended to do much, that none but himself, perhaps, was capable of accomplishing.

Prudence, therefore, enjoined us to refrain from touching upon that point, which he himself avoided, and to watch for a suitable opportunity when we should find him again disposed to speak further upon it. This opportunity occurred but too soon, as his end was evidently approaching. Sensible of the rapid decline of his physical powers, he now himself declared that all hope of his recovery was vain, and began to look death in the face with stoic fortitude.

Plutarch and other favourite Greek authors lay around him, and thus one day—it might be the seventh or eighth before his decease—he made some observations on Lucius Brutus, whose character he highly admired. This was a signal to Breuning and myself to resume the conversation, which we had dropped, with respect to his biographer, and to direct it according to our wishes. Resigned already to his fate, Beethoven read with great attention a paper on this subject, drawn up by his older friend Breuning, and then very calmly said, "There lies such a paper, there such another—take them, and make the best use you can of them; but let the truth be strictly adhered to in every point. For this I hold both of you responsible, and write on the subject to Rochlitz." Our object was now accomplished, for he gave us himself the necessary explanations respecting the papers. This memorable scene by the sick-bed of our beloved friend terminated in his desiring me to take charge of all the letters that were there, and Breuning of all his other papers, among which was the first version of the opera of "Fidelio," in score—an injunction with which we punctually complied.

Sky Island: Being the Further Exciting Adventures of Trot and Cap'n Bill after Their visit to the Sea Fairies (Full Illustrated)

2017-06-26T14:28:00.000+07:00

Fiction > Classics

Description

by L. Frank (Lyman Frank) Baum (Author), John R. (John Rea) Neill (Illustrator)

Book Review
Stuart Lutzenhiser's review: Aug 28, 11

Read from June 29 to July 18, 2011, read count: 2

The girls loved this. Tells the story of Trot and Cap'n Bill who are dropped in (literally) by a small boy named Button-Bright who lands in a magic umbrella. They fly into the clouds to Sky Island where they get caught up in a conflict between the Blues and the Pinks. Typical Baum writing and Oz related - while not actually being set in Oz.

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Robert Taylor's review: Jun 26, 11

While not as famous as his Oz books, Sky Island is every bit as full of imagination and wonderful characters. I only wish I could find a continuation of this story, but Baum moved all the main characters to Oz so that he continue writing about them in his more popular setting.

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Amyem's review: Feb 15, 11

bookshelves: own
Read in January, 2007

Better than the Sea Fairies, I think because he had to create his whole new world, not based on any existing undersea world. This edition was also lovely, with color plates and all the pen and ink drawings. Thoroughly enjoyable in a million ways.

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Janie Hepler's review: Mar 21, 10

bookshelves: fantasy

These are two of my favorite Oz characters.

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Frank's review: Aug 21, 09

Read in August, 2009

If you like Baum's series of the Wizard of Oz you love this one. After Baum finally put the 14 or 15 book series of Oz to bed he started another series and produced a new Dorothy and this time without limiting to Oz. This was actually uses two characters from the Oz series. They get to this strange land (island in the sky) with a magic umbrella and then the rest of the book is full of adventures and attempts to return home after the umbrella is taken from them. It is presented in typical Baum fashion but his syle seems freer and it is easier to follow and relate to. This is the second of this series but I have not read the first one yet.

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Valerie's review: Jun 21, 08

Recommended to Valerie by: Mom
Read in January, 1978

One of my favorite banned books.

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Kris's review: Dec 16, 07

bookshelves: children-s-books

I had a childhood obsession with this book, his book about the mermaids, and the OZ books. I would check them out from the library over and over and over again.

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Zard Doherty's review: Jul 11, 07

bookshelves: funnyquickreads
Recommended for: People who likes kids book.
Read in April, 1999

I learned nothing from this book. But its a great fantasy read. LOVE

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In Morocco With thirty four illustrated and Active TOC.

2017-06-25T16:43:00.000+07:00

Travel > Africa > Morocco

Description

by Edith Wharton

"Having begun my book with the statement that Morocco still lacks a guide-book, I should have wished to take a first step toward remedying that deficiency.

But the conditions in which I travelled, though full of unexpected and picturesque opportunities, were not suited to leisurely study of the places visited. The time was limited by the approach of the rainy season, which puts an end to motoring over the treacherous trails of the Spanish zone. In 1918, owing to the watchfulness of German submarines in the Straits and along the northwest coast of Africa, the trip by sea from Marseilles to Casablanca, ordinarily so easy, was not to be made without much discomfort and loss of time. Once on board the steamer, passengers were often kept in port (without leave to land) for six or eight days; therefore for any one bound by a time-limit, as most war-workers were, it was necessary to travel across country, and to be back at Tangier before the November rains.

This left me only one month in which to visit Morocco from the Mediterranean to the High Atlas, and from the Atlantic to Fez, and even had there been a Djinn's carpet to carry me, the multiplicity of impressions received would have made precise observation difficult.

The next best thing to a Djinn's carpet, a military motor, was at my disposal every morning; but war conditions imposed restrictions, and the wish to use the minimum of petrol often stood in the way of the second visit which alone makes it possible to carry away a definite and detailed impression.

These drawbacks were more than offset by the advantage of making my quick trip at a moment unique in the history of the country; the brief moment of transition between its virtually complete subjection to European authority, and the fast approaching hour when it is thrown open to all the banalities and promiscuities of modern travel.

Morocco is too curious, too beautiful, too rich in landscape and architecture, and above all too much of a novelty, not to attract one of the main streams of spring travel as soon as Mediterranean passenger traffic is resumed. Now that the war is over, only a few months' work on roads and railways divide it from the great torrent of "tourism"; and once that deluge is let loose, no eye will ever again see Moulay Idriss and Fez and Marrakech as I saw them."__Pref.

Long Odds

2017-06-23T18:30:00.000+07:00

Fiction > Literary

Description

by Harold Bindloss

CHAPTER I
THOMAS ORMSGILL

It was towards the middle of a sweltering afternoon when Commandant Dom Erminio roused himself to wakefulness as he lay in his Madeira chair on the veranda of Fort San Roque, which stands beside a muddy river of Western Africa. As a rule Dom Erminio slept all the afternoon, which was not astonishing, since there was very little else for him to do, and if there had been he would conscientiously have refrained from doing it as long as possible. It is also very probable that any other intelligent white man similarly circumstanced would have been glad to spend part, at least, of the weary day in merciful oblivion. San Roque is one of the hottest places in Africa, which is saying a good deal, and at night a sour white steam, heavy with the exhalations of putrefaction, rises from the muddy river. They usually bring the white man who breathes them fever of one or several kinds, while even if he endures them scatheless the steamy heat melts the vigor out of him, and the black dejection born of it and the monotony crushes his courage down. San Roque is scorched with pitiless sunshine during part of the year, but it is walled in by never-lifting shadow, for all round the dark forest creeps close up to it.

On the afternoon in question the Commandant's rest was prematurely broken, because his dusky major-domo had not had the basket chair placed where it would remain in shadow, and a slanting shaft of sunlight struck hotly upon the sleeper's face. A dull throbbing sound also crept softly out of the heavy stillness, and it was a sound which usually promised at least an hour or two's distraction. Dom Erminio recognized it as the thud of canoe paddles, and sat upright in his chair looking about him drowsily, a little, haggard, yellow-faced man in white uniform, with claw-like hands whose fingers-ends were stained by tobacco. He lived remote from even such civilization as may be met with on the coast of Western Africa, with a handful of black soldiers and one white companion, distinctly on sufferance, since the fever and certain tribesmen who showed signs of resenting the white men's encroachments might at any time snuff him out. He was, however, of Iberian extraction, and it was characteristic of him that he did not concern himself greatly about the possibility of such a catastrophe or consider it worth while to take any steps to avert it which he might perhaps have done.

Eye Spy - Afield with Nature Among Flowers and Animate Things With Full Illustrated and Active Table of Contents

2017-06-22T22:25:00.000+07:00

Nature > Plants > Trees

Description

by W. Hamilton Gibson

A Naturalist's Boyhood

AM enjoying a book, a picture, a statue, or, say, a piece of music. I know these to be the finished works of the man or the woman, but I invariably hark back to the boy or the girl.

What I want to discover is the precise time, in the lives of certain boys and girls, when the steel first struck the flint, the spark flew, and out streamed that jet of fire which never afterwards was extinguished.

I was reading an article entitled "Professor Wriggler," written by Mr. William Hamilton Gibson, which appeared in "Harper's Young People," in the number of October 31, 1893. I need not tell you that both old and young, at home and abroad, delight in reading what Mr. Hamilton Gibson has written, because he was not alone the most observant of naturalists, but a distinguished artist and a sympathetic author.

He thus filled a peculiar position in the literary and artistic world which is seldom given to any one man to fill. Besides being a naturalist from his boyhood, he was able to write better than most people what he wished to write, and to illustrate his articles in a way that was unique. Mr. Gibson's death a few days ago, therefore, has closed the career of a man who had the ability to interest a large number of people not only in natural history, but in art and literature.

Bib-li-op-e-gis-tic (Pertaining to the art of binding books.—Dibdin)

2017-06-20T18:03:00.000+07:00

Crafts-Hobbies > Book Printing & Binding

Description

by Unknown

Bib-li-op-e-gis-tic (Pertaining to the art of binding books.—Dibdin) to which is appended a glossary of some terms used in the craft.

Bibliopegistic

The craft of the bookbinder is older than that of the printer. Quoting from Mr. Brander Matthews:

“Perhaps the first bookbinder was the humble workman who collected the baked clay tiles on which the Assyrians wrote their laws; and he was a bookbinder also who prepared a protecting cylinder to guard the scrolls of papyrus on which Vergil, and Horace, and Martial had written their verses.”

Modern art in bookbinding began in Italy in the fifteenth century. The invention of printing had so multiplied books that the work got out of the hands of the monks, and workmen from other trades were pressed into service, bringing with them their skill in working leather, as well as their tools, and designs which they had previously used to decorate their work.

At this time the libraries were shelves, so inclined, as to allow of the books lying on their sides, inviting their decoration. At first the embellishment was suggested or influenced by the work in the volume, and very often there would be found on the cover, repetition of the typographic ornaments used by the printer.

The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages With Sixteen Color Illustrated and Active Table of Contents

2017-06-19T17:36:00.000+07:00

Literary Collections > Ancient, Classical & Medieval

Description

by Charles Reade (Author), Evelyn Paul (Illustrator)

PREFACE

A small portion of this tale appeared in Once a Week, July—September, 1859, under the title of "A Good Fight."

After writing it, I took wider views of the subject, and also felt uneasy at having deviated unnecessarily from the historical outline of a true story. These two sentiments have cost me more than a year's very hard labour, which I venture to think has not been wasted. After this plain statement I trust all who comment on this work will see that, to describe it as a reprint, would be unfair to the public and to me. The English language is copious and, in any true man's hands, quite able to convey the truth; namely, that one fifth of the present work is a reprint, and four fifths of it a new composition.

CHAPTER I

NOT a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and suffer noble sorrows. Of these obscure heroes, philosophers, and martyrs, the greater part will never be known till that hour, when many that are great shall be small, and the small great; but of others the world's knowledge may be said to sleep: their lives and characters lie hidden from nations in the annals that record them. The general reader cannot feel them, they are presented so curtly and coldly: they are not like breathing stories appealing to his heart, but little historic hailstones striking him but to glance off his bosom: nor can he understand them; for epitomes are not narratives, as skeletons are not human figures.

Thus records of prime truths remain a dead letter to plain folk; the writers have left so much to the imagination, and imagination is so rare a gift. Here, then, the writer of fiction may be of use to the public—as an interpreter.

There is a musty chronicle, written in tolerable Latin, and in it a chapter where every sentence holds a fact. Here is told, with harsh brevity, the strange history of a pair, who lived untrumpeted, and died unsung, four hundred years ago; and lie now, as unpitied, in that stern page, as fossils in a rock. Thus, living or dead, Fate is still unjust to them. For if I can but show you what lies below that dry chronicler's words, methinks you will correct the indifference of centuries, and give those two sore tried souls a place in your heart—for a day.

It was past the middle of the fifteenth century, Louis XI. was sovereign of France; Edward IV. was wrongful King of England; and Philip "the Good," having by force and cunning dispossessed his cousin Jacqueline, and broken her heart, reigned undisturbed this many years in Holland, where our tale begins.

PRINCESS BELLE-ETOILE: Walter Crane's Picture Books

2017-06-15T15:13:00.000+07:00

Juvenile Fiction > Fairy Tales & Folklore > General

Description

by Walter Crane

Once upon a time there were three Princesses, named Roussette, Brunette, and Blondine, who lived in retirement with their mother, a Princess who had lost all her former grandeur. One day an old woman called and asked for a dinner, as this Princess was an excellent cook. After the meal was over, the old woman, who was a fairy, promised that their kindness should be rewarded, and immediately disappeared.

Shortly after, the King came that way, with his brother and the Lord Admiral. They were all so struck with the beauty of the three Princesses, that the King married the youngest, Blondine, his brother married Brunette, and the Lord Admiral married Roussette.

The good Fairy, who had brought all this about, also caused the young Queen Blondine to have three lovely children, two boys and a girl, out of whose hair fell fine jewels. Each had a brilliant star on the forehead, and a rich chain of gold around the neck. At the same time Brunette, her sister, gave birth to a handsome boy. Now the young Queen and Brunette were much attached to each other, but Roussette was jealous of both, and the old Queen, the King's mother, hated them. Brunette died soon after the birth of her son, and the King was absent on a warlike expedition, so Roussette joined the wicked old Queen in forming plans to injure Blondine. They ordered Feintise, the old Queen's waiting-woman, to strangle the Queen's three children and the son of Princess Brunette, and bury them secretly. But as she was about to execute this wicked order, she was so struck by their beauty, and the appearance of the sparkling stars on their foreheads, that she shrank from the deed.

So she had a boat brought round to the beach, and put the four babes, with some strings of jewels, into a cradle, which she placed in the boat, and then set it adrift. The boat was soon far out at sea. The waves rose, the rain poured in torrents, and the thunder roared. Feintise could not doubt that the boat would be swamped, and felt relieved by the thought that the poor little innocents would perish, for she would otherwise always be haunted by the fear that something would occur to betray the share she had had in their preservation.

Lad - A Dog

2017-06-15T15:00:00.000+07:00

Juvenile Fiction > Animals > Dogs

Description

by Albert Payson Terhune

HIS MATE

Lady was as much a part of Lad's everyday happiness as the sunshine itself. She seemed to him quite as perfect, and as gloriously indispensable. He could no more have imagined a Ladyless life than a sunless life. It had never occurred to him to suspect that Lady could be any less devoted than he—until Knave came to The Place.

Lad was an eighty-pound collie, thoroughbred in spirit as well as in blood. He had the benign dignity that was a heritage from endless generations of high-strain ancestors. He had, too, the gay courage of a d'Artagnan, and an uncanny wisdom. Also—who could doubt it, after a look into his mournful brown eyes—he had a Soul.

His shaggy coat, set off by the snowy ruff and chest, was like orange-flecked mahogany. His absurdly tiny forepaws—in which he took inordinate pride—were silver white.

Three years earlier, when Lad was in his first prime (before the mighty chest and shoulders had filled out and the tawny coat had waxed so shaggy), Lady had been brought to The Place. She had been brought in the Master's overcoat pocket, rolled up into a fuzzy gold-gray ball of softness no bigger than a half-grown kitten.

A Thousand Ways to Please a Husband: With Bettina's Best Recipes (Annotated)

2013-06-11T18:21:00.000+07:00

Cooking > Methods > General
Literary Collections > General

Description

by Helen Cowles LeCron, Louise Bennett Weaver

CHAPTER I
HOME AT LAST

"HOME at last!" sighed Bettina happily as the hot and dusty travelers left the train.

"Why that contented sigh?" asked Bob. "Because our wedding trip is over? Well, anyhow, Bettina, it's after five. Shall we have dinner at the hotel?"

"Hotel? Why, Bob! with our house and our dishes and our silver just waiting for us? I'm ashamed of you! We'll take the first car for home—a street-car, not a taxi! Our extravagant days are over, and the time has come to show you that Bettina knows how to keep house. You think that you love me now, Bobby, but just wait till you sit down to a real strawberry shortcake made by a real cook in a real home!"

Half an hour later Bob was unlocking the door of the new brown bungalow. "Isn't it a dear?" cried Bettina proudly. "When we've had time to give it grass and shrubs and flowers and a vegetable garden, no place in town will equal it! And as for porch furniture, how I'd like to get at Mother's attic and transform some of her discarded things!"

"Just now I'd rather get at some of Mother's cooking!" grinned Bob.

"Oh, dear, I forgot! I'll have supper ready in ten minutes. Do you remember my emergency shelf? Why, Bob—Bob, they must have known we were coming! Here's ice—and milk—and cream—and butter—and bread—and rolls, and even a grape fruit! They knew, and didn't meet the train because they thought we would prefer to have our first meal alone! Wasn't that dear of them? And this will save you a trip to the corner grocery!"

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Whistler: Masterpieces in Colour Series

2013-01-08T16:18:00.002+07:00

Art > General

Description

by T. Martin Wood

I

At the time when Rossetti and his circle were foregathering chiefly at Rossetti’s house, quiet Chelsea scarcely knew how daily were associations added which will always cluster round her name. Whistler’s share in those associations is very large, and he has left in his paintings the memory of many a night, as he returned beside the river. Before Whistler painted it, night was more opaque than it is now. It had been viewed only through the window of tradition. It was left for a man of the world coming out of an artificial London room to paint its stillness, and also to show us that we ourselves had made night more beautiful, with ghostly silver and gold; and to tell us that the dark bridges that sweep into it do not interrupt—that we cannot interrupt, the music of nature.

The figure of Whistler emerges: with his extreme concern as to his appearance, his careful choice of clothes, his hair so carefully arranged. He had quite made up his mind as to the part he intended to play and the light in which he wished to be regarded. He had a dual personality. Himself as he really was and the personality which he put forward as himself. In a sense he never went anywhere unaccompanied; he was followed and watched by another self that would perhaps have been happier at home. Tiring of this he would disappear from society for a time. Other men’s ringlets fall into their places accidentally—so it might be with the young Disraeli. Other men’s clothes have seemed characteristic without any of this elaborate pose. He chose his clothes with a view to their being characteristic, which is rather different and less interesting than the fact of their becoming so because he, Whistler, wore them. Other men are dandies, with little conception of the grace of their part; with Whistler a supreme artist stepped into the question. He designed himself. Nor had he the illusions of vanity, but a groundwork of philosophy upon which every detail of his personal life was part of an elaborate and delicately designed structure, his art the turret of it all, from which he saw over the heads of others. There is no contradiction between the dandy and his splendid art. He lived as exquisitely and carefully as he painted. Literary culture, merely, in his case was not great perhaps, yet he could be called one of the most cultured figures of his time. In every direction he marked the path of his mind with fastidious borders. And it is interesting that he should have painted the greatest portrait of Carlyle, who, we will say, represented in English literature Goethe’s philosophy of culture, which if it has an echo in the plastic arts, has it in the work of Whistler.

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Bass, Pike, Perch and Others: THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S LIBRARY

2012-10-03T18:36:00.000+07:00

Sports-Recreation > Fishing > History

Description

by James Alexander Henshall

INTRODUCTION

In this volume are included all of the game-fishes of the United States east of the Rocky Mountains, except the salmons and trouts, and the tarpon, jewfish, and other fishes of large size, which are described in other volumes of this series. As a matter of convenience I have grouped the fishes in families, whenever possible, but in their sequence I have been guided chiefly by their importance as game-fishes, and not in accordance with their natural order. The latter feature, however, has been provided for in a systematic list on a subsequent page.

In order not to burden the text with matter that might not be of general interest, the technical descriptions of the fishes of each group are given in small type at the head of each chapter; and that they may be readily understood by the lay reader the following explanations seem necessary.

The length of the head is from the point of the snout to the hindmost point or margin of the gill-cover. The length of the body is from the point of the snout to the base of the caudal fin, the fin itself not being included. The depth of the body is from the highest point of the dorsal line to the lowest point of the ventral line, usually from the base of the first dorsal fin to the base of the ventral fin. The expression "head 5" means that the length of the head is contained five times in the length of the body; the expression "depth 5" means that the depth of the body is contained five times in its length; "eye 5" means that the diameter of the eye is contained five times in the length of the head. In describing the fins the spiny rays are denoted by Roman numerals, and the soft rays by Arabic numerals, and the fins themselves by initials; thus "D. 9" means that the dorsal fin is single and composed of nine soft rays; "D. IX, 10" means that the single dorsal fin has nine spiny rays and ten soft rays; when separated by a hyphen, as "D. X-12," it means that there are two dorsal fins, the first composed of ten spiny rays and the second of twelve soft ones; "A. III, 11" means that the anal fin has three spines and eleven soft rays. The expression "scales 7-65-18" indicates that there are seven rows of scales between the dorsal fin and the lateral line, sixty-five scales along the lateral line, and eighteen oblique or horizontal rows between the lateral line and the ventral line. The number of rays in the fins and the number of scales along the lateral line, as given, represent the average number, and are subject to slight variation; thus in some localities the number of rays in a fin may be found to vary one or two, and the number of scales along the lateral line may vary from one to five, more or less, from the number given in the descriptions.

I have adhered strictly to the nomenclature of the "Fishes of Middle and North America" (Bulletin, U. S. National Museum, No. 47), by Jordan and Evermann, and in the main I have followed the descriptions as recorded in that admirable work; but in many instances I have depended on my own notes.

The suggestions as to angling and the tools and tackle recommended may be confidently relied on, as they are in conformity with my own practice and are based on my personal experience, covering a period of forty years, on many waters, from Canada to the West Indies, and from the Atlantic to the Rocky Mountains.

JAMES A. HENSHALL

Bozeman, Montana.

February 1, 1903.

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The Master of Warlock: A Virginia War Story

2012-10-03T18:28:00.000+07:00

Fiction > War & Military

Description

I
A break in the bridge

The road was a winding, twisting track as it threaded its way through a stretch of old field pines. The land was nearly level at that point, and quite unobstructed, so that there was not the slightest reason that ordinary intelligence could discover for the roadway's devious wanderings. It might just as well have run straight through the pine lands.

But in Virginia people were never in a hurry. They had all of leisure that well-settled and perfectly self-satisfied ways of life could bring to a people whose chief concern it was to live uprightly and happily in that state of existence into which it had pleased God to call them. What difference could it make to a people so minded, whether the journey to the Court-house—the centre and seat of county activities of all kinds—were a mile or two longer or shorter by reason of meaningless curves in the road, or by reason of a lack of them? Why should they bother to straighten out road windings that had the authority of long use for their being? And why should the well-fed negro drivers of family carriages shake themselves out of their customary and comfortable naps in order to drive more directly across the pine land, when the horses, if left to themselves, would placidly follow the traditional track?

The crookedness of the road was a fact, and Virginians of that time always accepted and respected facts to which they had been long accustomed. For that sufficient reason Baillie Pegram, the young master of Warlock, was not thinking of the road at all, but accepting it as he did the greenery of the trees and the bursting of the buds, as he jogged along at a dog-trot on that fine April morning in the year of our Lord 1861.

He was well mounted upon a mettlesome sorrel mare,—a mare with pronounced ideas of her own. The young man had taught her to bend these somewhat to his will, but her individuality was not yet so far subdued or suppressed as to lose itself in that of her master. So she suddenly halted and vigorously snorted as she came within sight of the little bridge over Dogwood Branch, where a horse and a young gentlewoman were obviously in trouble.

I name the horse and the girl in that ungallant reverse order, because that was the order in which they revealed themselves to the mare and her master. For the girl was on the farther side of the horse, and stooping, so that she could not be seen at a first glance. As she heard approaching hoof-beats she straightened herself into that dignity of demeanour which every young Virginia gentlewoman felt it to be her supreme duty in life to maintain under any and all circumstances.

She was gowned in the riding-habit of that time, with glove-fitting body and a skirt so long that, even when its wearer sat upon a high horse, it extended to within eighteen inches of the ground. When Baillie Pegram reached the little bridge and hastily dismounted, she was standing as erect as a young hickory-tree, making the most of her five feet four of height, and holding the skirt up sufficiently to free her feet. She wore a look half of welcome, half of defiance on her face. The defiance was prompted by a high-bred maidenly sense of propriety and by something else. The welcome was due to an instinctive rejoicing in the coming of masculine help. For the girl was indeed in sore need of assistance. Her horse had slipped his foot through a break in the bridge flooring, and after a painful struggle, had given up the attempt to extricate it. He was panting with pain, and his young mistress was sympathetically sharing every pain that he suffered.

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The History of Chivalry Vol. II (of 2): Or Knighthood and Its Times

2012-10-03T18:14:00.000+07:00

History > General

Description

by Charles Mills

CHAP. I.

STATE OF CHIVALRY IN ENGLAND DURING THE REIGN OF EDWARD THE THIRD.

Tournaments.

The sun of English chivalry reached its meridian in the reign of Edward III., for the King and the nobles all were knightly, and the image of their character was reflected in the minds of the people. Tournaments and jousts, for the amusement and in honour of the ladies, were the universal fashion of the time. In little more than one year, chivalric solemnities were held with unparalleled magnificence at Litchfield, Bury, Guildford, Eltham, Canterbury, and twice at Windsor. The gay character of Edward and his court was pleasingly displayed in the spring of the year 1359, three years after the battle of Poictiers. A solemn tournament of three days’ duration was proclaimed in London, and the lord mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen, proposed to keep the field against all comers. The time arrived, the martial games were held, and all the honor of arms appeared to be of right due to the officers of the city. The victors then threw aside their shields and surcoats impressed with the city’s bearings, removed their beavers, and King Edward, the Black Prince, the Princes Lionel, John, and Edmund, and nineteen noble barons, were recognised.

The round table.

Order of the Garter.

The round table at Kenilworth already mentioned was not a solitary instance of the love of romantic grandeur and gallantry among the people of England. Mortimer kept a round table of knights in Wales professedly in imitation of Arthur, And afterwards Edward III. endeavoured to realise the golden imaginations of fable which had assigned one hundred and fifty knights as the complement of Arthur’s chivalry. We are assured that the round table which Edward established at Windsor in 1344 described a circumference of six hundred feet: but it is more interesting to know, that the nobility and knighthood of France, Germany, Spain, and other countries flocked to England on the invitation of the King, and that the chivalric bands at Windsor were graced by the presence of Queen Philippa and three hundred English ladies, who, in honour of the friendly union of knights, were all arrayed in splendid dresses of one form and fashion, and looked like the sisters of a military order. Policy was mixed with chivalric pride in Edward’s plan; for he wished to retain in his service some of the foreign knights who repaired to the tournament at Windsor. But his intention to strengthen his chivalry was defeated by his rival Philip of Valois, who established also a round table, to which the cavaliers of the Continent could more easily repair than to that of Edward.[6] The knights of France were expressly forbidden by their king to attend the festivities of the round table at Windsor.

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The History of Chivalry Vol. I (of 2): Or Knighthood and Its Times

2012-10-03T18:01:00.000+07:00

History > General

Description

by Charles Mills

PREFACE.

The propriety of my writing a History of Chivalry, as a companion to my History of the Crusades, was suggested to me by a friend whose acquaintance with middle-age lore forms but a small portion of his literary attainments, and whose History of Italy shows his ability of treating, as well as his skill in discovering, subjects not hitherto discussed with the fulness which their importance merits.

The works of Menestrier and Colombiere sleep in the dust of a few ancient libraries; and there are only two other books whose express and entire object is a delineation of the Institutions of chivalry. The first and best known is the French work called “Mémoires sur l’ancienne Chevalerie; considérée comme un Etablissement Politique et Militaire. Par M. de la Curne de Sainte Palaye, de l’Académie Françoise,” &c. 2 tom. 12mo. Paris, 1759. The last half, however, of the second volume does not relate to chivalry, and therefore the learned Frenchman cannot be charged with treating his subject at very great length. It was his purpose to describe the education which accomplished the youth for the distinction of knighthood, and this part of his work he has performed with considerable success. But he failed in his next endeavour, that of painting the martial games of chivalry, for nothing can be more unsatisfactory than his account of jousts and tournaments. As he wished to inform his readers of the use which was made in the battle field of the valour, skill, and experience of knights, a description of some of the extraordinary and interesting battles of the middle ages might have been expected. Here also disappointment is experienced; neither can any pleasure be derived from perusing his examination of the causes which produced the decline and extinction of chivalry, and his account of the inconveniences which counterbalanced the advantages of the establishment.

Sainte Palaye was a very excellent French antiquarian; but the limited scope of his studies disqualified him from the office of a general historian of chivalry. The habits of his mind led him to treat of knighthood as if it had been the ornament merely of his own country. He very rarely illustrates his principles by the literature of any other nation, much less did he attempt to trace their history through the various states of Europe. He has altogether kept out of sight many characteristic features of his subject. Scarcely any thing is advanced about ancient armour; not a word on the religious and military orders; and but a few pages, and those neither pleasing nor correct, on woman and lady-love. The best executed part of his subject regards, as I have already observed, the education of knights; and he has scattered up and down his little volume and a half many curious notices of ancient manners.

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The Stampeder

2012-09-25T14:52:00.001+07:00

Fiction > General

Description

by S. A. White

CHAPTER I.

Britton's steam-yacht tore out its lungs in protest at the black smudge of a coasting vessel reeling straight across its bows.

The siren bellowed thrice in a choking fury of warning and denunciation till the echoes boomed over the Algerian harbor and floated high up to the Mustapha Supérieure, where English lords slept at peace in luxurious hotels.

Disconcerted by this tremendous volume of sound, the coaster vacillated, veered and yawed as if under some drunken steering-hand, to leap forward unwarily and bury her weather-beaten prow in the white side of the Mottisfont.

The terrific impact swept the yacht's forecastle clear of snoring sailors, and, after shooting the temporary owner headlong from his berth, commenced to polish the companionway passage with his features, an operation which he instinctively though not wholly wakefully resented by a frantic grasping for something substantial.

The effort was rewarded when his fingers clutched the lower stairs, and Rex Britton staggered to his feet. Every light below was out, and the man so roughly aroused stood dazedly wondering if a horribly real nightmare held him in its grip.

Then, like a flash, intelligence permeated his shaken brain, and all the faculties stirred again. He remembered the grinding crash and clambered on deck in his pyjamas!

Upon the bridge loomed the figure of the captain, frantically banging at the engine-room signals, but the bell refused to sound. A medley of curses vibrated in the humid night air, emanating partly from the lower deck, and partly from the bows of the coaster as the Berber sailors gave free vent to their displeasure.

"Daniels–Captain Daniels!" roared Britton, "what the deuce is this turmoil?"

"An accident, sir," was the reply. "A coasting vessel has rammed us. I'm afraid we're badly hit; and the signals are out of business. We'll reverse in a moment if the engines are not disabled."

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The Weird of the Wentworths Vol. 2: A Tale of George IV's Time

2012-09-25T14:42:00.000+07:00

Literary Collections > General > Fiction > Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology

Description

by Johannes Scotus

CHAPTER I.

"Oh! Liberty, inspire me! And eagle strength supply! Thou, love almighty, fire me, I'll burst my prison—or die!" James Montgomery.

Perhaps the noble aspirations contained in the lines that head this chapter are misapplied to a murderer flying his just punishment, but even to the felon-convict liberty is sweet. L'Estrange, as soon as he was left alone, began to think what he should decide on,—whether to escape or remain. There lay the rope, and the file to burst open the prison bars! All was prepared for his flight. Why did he hesitate? Why did he linger? Between the peals he heard the clock strike twelve; he thought too he heard the clatter of horse-hoofs, probably the Captain on his way home. Why did he stay? he felt an irresistible inclination to await his doom. Why? Because he would see Ellen once more! If he went—if he escaped—he would perhaps never see her—he would have to fly his country. He would stay. Come what might—it was death at the worst! But alas! the Captain, what would he think? he cared not for that. But what would he do? He who had gained admission to his cell could again do so; he who had offered means of flight could also force him to fly; it was useless then, after all he must go! Oh, that he had never come! that man was his evil genius! "Farewell, then, to Scotland, farewell, Ellen, I must go and hide on a foreign strand." He then began to think how he was to manage his escape. After all it was not so very easy. What if he should fail? he had already lost precious time! Bill would only wait till three—he must be up and doing.

We must leave him a few moments in order to follow the Captain home. When he had brought L'Estrange to see escape was after all not to be trifled with, slipping a cheque for a large sum into the turnkey's hand he was let out by a side door. It was raining torrents, and his only light were the rapid flashes that lit the Welkin, and disclosed for an instant Arthur's Seat, and then swallowed all in the jaws of darkness again. He strode along whistling; if he met a watchman made some casual remark, or damned the night, then walked on again, taking his soaking with the utmost coolness, till he came opposite the High School. There he turned to the right, and descending a steep pathway dived into the north back of the Canongate, threading his way through the murky dirty habitations till Holyrood rose dimly before him. Here he was challenged by a sentry, but as he had possessed himself of the password and countersign, was readily admitted. Passing through the courtyard he again sallied forth, again gave the password, and was at last clear of all buildings in the Park now called the Queen's Park. He walked on a dozen paces, and then gave a shrill whistle: another, echo like, answered him, and he quickened his pace to where Archy stood holding a horse.

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The Weird of the Wentworths Vol. 1: A Tale of George IV's Time

2012-09-25T14:15:00.000+07:00

Literary Collections > General > Fiction > Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology

Description

by Johannes Scotus

PREFACE.

The objection may be raised that, as the major part of this Romance takes place during the Regency, such a title as:—"The Weird of the Wentworths; a Tale of George IV.'s Time,"—is inappropriate. When, however, it is considered that the Regent was king in all but name, and the manners, customs, and habits differed little after his accession, the inadvertency will be explained.

In case of exception being taken to the language and sentiments of some characters introduced into the tale, the Author thinks it sufficient to say he utterly repudiates them! Oaths and ribaldry are, unfortunately, the concomitants of a depraved mind; and, in delineating faithfully the darker side of human nature, the Author felt himself compelled to sketch much that has passed under his own observation, and much that he has gleaned from the treatment of such characters by many distinguished novelists, not omitting our northern luminary, Sir Walter Scott.

The moral of the Romance being the triumph of virtue over vice, and truth over falsehood, he trusts that those fair readers, who may indulge his work with a perusal, will avoid the dark, and embrace the bright traits of the other sex; and, marking the gradual development of rectitude in the character of his heroine, magnify their own by adhering fixedly to the path of duty and moral conduct, amid all temptations to swerve from it.

The Author trusts that those noble families, whose names he has chosen as his beaux idéals, will kindly dismiss all personal associations from their minds, and simply give to the synonyms (which his not unpardonable preference led him to select) that weight which will ever attach itself in the eyes of the world, to the great, when also good.

There is one more point which may give rise to discussion—the rapid and violent deaths occurring in one family. The WEIRD, which, though kept in the background, is the mainspring of the tale, might explain this; but that such catastrophes are not beyond the region of possibility, the Author begs to remind his readers that in more than one family of rank, whose names both his sympathy and delicacy forbid any allusion to, such misfortunes and fates have actually happened.

Some of the death-scenes, and very many of the traditions and incidents embodied in the work, are taken from real life, which often far surpasses fiction.

Portobello, near Edinburgh.

June 19th, 1862.

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The Thames

2012-09-19T21:02:00.000+07:00

Travel > Europe > Great Britain > History > General

Description

by G. E. (Geraldine Edith) Mitton (Author), E. W Haslehust (Illustrator)

When the American wondered what all the fuss was about, and “guessed” that any one of his home rivers could swallow the Thames and never know it, the Englishman replied, he “guessed” it depended at which end the process began; if at the mouth, the American river would probably get no farther than the “greatest city the world has ever known” before succumbing to indigestion!

With rivers as with men, size is not an element in greatness, and for no other reason than that it carries London on its banks the Thames would be the most famous river in the world. It has other claims too, claims which are here set forth with pen and pencil; for at present we are not dealing with London at all, but with that river of pleasure of which Spenser wrote:—

Along the shores of silver-streaming Themmes;

Whose rutty bank, the which his river hemmes,

Was paynted all with variable flowers,

And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes,

Fit to deck mayden bowres and crowne their paramoures,

Against the brydale day which is not long,

Sweet Thames! runne softly till I end my song.

Oddly enough, this is one of the comparatively few allusions to the Thames in literature, and there is no single striking ode in its honour. It is perhaps too much to expect the present Poet Laureate to fill the gap, but certainly the poet of the Thames has yet to arise.

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