author - "Arthur Conan Doyle"
hose of LutheranPastors. Put all this together and say if the human race hasever presented a more unlovely aspect. When we try to find thebrighter spots they are chiefly where civilisation, as apartfrom religion, has built up necessities for the community, suchas hospitals, universities, and organised charities, asconspicuous in Buddhist Japan as in Christian Europe. We cannotdeny that there has been much virtue, much gentleness, muchspirituality in individuals. But the churches were empty husks,which contained no spiritual food for the human race, and had inthe main ceased to influence its actions, save in the directionof soulless forms.This is not an over-coloured picture. Can we not see, then,what was the inner reason for the war? Can we not understandthat it was needful to shake mankind loose from gossip and pinkteas, and sword-worship, and Saturday night drunks, and self-seeking politics and theological quibbles--to wake them up andmake them realise that they stand upon a narro
ous mistake," he said. "I must try and set it right.Yet I don't know how to set about it either. I was going down to thevillage from the Vicarage just after dusk when I found a fellow in atrap who had got himself into broken water. One wheel had sunk into theedge of the ditch which had been hidden by the snow, and the whole thingwas high and dry, with a list to starboard enough to slide him out ofhis seat. I lent a hand, of course, and soon had the wheel in the roadagain. It was quite dark, and I fancy that the fellow thought that Iwas a bumpkin, for we did not exchange five words. As he drove off heshoved this into my hand. It is the merest chance that I did not chuckit away, for, feeling that it was a crumpled piece of paper, I imaginedthat it must be a tradesman's advertisement or something of the kind.However, as luck would have it, I put it in my pocket, and there I foundit when I looked for the dates of our cruise. Now you know as much ofthe matter as I do."
Brother and sister s
irritating when urged by a Boston moralist or aLondon philanthropist upon men whose whole society has been builtupon the assumption that the black is the inferior race. Such apeople like to find the higher morality for themselves, not to haveit imposed upon them by those who live under entirely differentconditions. They feel--and with some reason--that it is a cheapform of virtue which, from the serenity of a well-ordered householdin Beacon Street or Belgrave Square, prescribes what the relationshall be between a white employer and his half-savage,half-childish retainers. Both branches of the Anglo-Celtic racehave grappled with the question, and in each it has led to trouble.
The British Government in South Africa has always played theunpopular part of the friend and protector of the native servants.It was upon this very point that the first friction appearedbetween the old settlers and the new administration. A rising withbloodshed followed the arrest of a Dutch farmer who had maltreatedhis
steel bars. "Depend upon it, though, he feels this more than he shows. Why, it's the only friend he ever had in the world--or ever will have, in all probability. However, it's no business of mine," with which comforting reflection he began to whistle as he turned over the pages of the private day-book of the firm.
It is possible that his son's surmise was right, and that the gaunt, unemotional African merchant felt an unwonted heartache as he hailed a hansom and drove out to his friend's house at Fulham. He and Harston had been charity schoolboys together, had roughed it together, risen together, and prospered together. When John Girdlestone was a raw-boned lad and Harston a chubby-faced urchin, the latter had come to look upon the other as his champion and guide. There are some minds which are parasitic in their nature. Alone they have little vitality, but they love to settle upon some stronger intellect, from which they may borrow their emotions and conclusions at second-hand. A strong, vigorous bra
"Well, to make a long story short, I used to find the little man in his place every morning, always with his black bag, and for nigh unto four months never a day passed without his having his three hours' drive and paying his fare like a man at the end of it. I shifted into new quarters on the strength of it, and was able to buy a new set of harness. I don't say as I altogether swallowed the story of the doctors having recommended him on a hot day to go about in a growler with both windows up. However, it's a bad thing in this world to be too knowing, so though I own I felt a bit curious at it never put myself out o' the way to find out what the little game was. One day, I was driving up to my usual place of dropping him--for by this time we had got into the way of going a regular beat every morning--when I saw a policeman waiting, a perky sort of look about him, as if he had some job on hand. When the cab stopped out jumped the little man with his bag right into the arms of the 'bobby.'
"'I arrest you, John Malone,' says the policeman.
"'On what charge?' he answers as cool as a turnip.
"'On the charge of forging Bank of
count of howhis wife had died, and how he had been able for manyyears to keep in touch with her. All sorts of detailswere given. I read the book with interest, andabsolute scepticism. It seemed to me an example of howa hard practical man might have a weak side to hisbrain, a sort of reaction, as it were, against thoseplain facts of life with which he had to deal. Wherewas this spirit of which he talked? Suppose a man hadan accident and cracked his skull; his whole characterwould change, and a high nature might become a low one.With alcohol or opium or many other drugs one couldapparently quite change a man's spirit. The spiritthen depended upon matter. These were the argumentswhich I used in those days. I did not realise that itwas not the spirit that was changed in such cases, butthe body through which the spirit worked, just as itwould be no argument against the existence of amusician if you tampered with his violin so thatonly discordant notes could come through.
I was suffic
d bobtail of insignificant satellites, wefloat under the same daily conditions towards some unknown end,some squalid catastrophe which will overwhelm us at the ultimateconfines of space, where we are swept over an etheric Niagara ordashed upon some unthinkable Labrador. I see no room here forthe shallow and ignorant optimism of your correspondent, Mr.James Wilson MacPhail, but many reasons why we should watch witha very close and interested attention every indication of changein those cosmic surroundings upon which our own ultimate fatemay depend."
"Man, he'd have made a grand meenister," said McArdle. "It justbooms like an organ. Let's get doun to what it is that'stroubling him."
The general blurring and shifting of Fraunhofer's lines of thespectrum point, in my opinion, to a widespread cosmic change ofa subtle and singular character. Light from a planet is thereflected light of the sun. Light from a star is a self-producedlight. But the spectra both from planets and stars have, in
eye could reach. In all its vast expanse there was no break but for a single galley, which was slowly making its way from the direction of Sicily and heading for the distant harbour of Carthage.
Seen from afar it was a stately and beautiful vessel, deep red in colour, double-banked with scarlet oars, its broad, flapping sail stained with Tyrian purple, its bulwarks gleaming with brass work. A brazen, three-pronged ram projected in front, and a high golden figure of Baal, the God of the Ph[oe]nicians, children of Canaan, shone upon the after-deck. From the single high mast above the huge sail streamed the tiger-striped flag of Carthage. So, like some stately scarlet bird, with golden beak and wings of purple, she swam upon the face of the waters--a thing of might and of beauty as seen from the distant shore.
But approach and look at her now! What are these dark streaks which foul her white decks and dapple her brazen shields? Why do the long red oars move out of time, irregular, convulsive? Why a
to remembrance of the laws under which yelive."
At this sudden outflame of wrath the two witnesses sank theirfaces on to their chests, and sat as men crushed. The Abbotturned his angry eyes away from them and bent them upon theaccused, who met his searching gaze with a firm and composedface.
"What hast thou to say, brother John, upon these weighty thingswhich are urged against you?"
"Little enough, good father, little enough," said the novice,speaking English with a broad West Saxon drawl. The brothers,who were English to a man, pricked up their ears at the sound ofthe homely and yet unfamiliar speech; but the Abbot flushed redwith anger, and struck his hand upon the oaken arm of his chair.
"What talk is this?" he cried. "Is this a tongue to be usedwithin the walls of an old and well-famed monastery? But graceand learning have ever gone hand in hand, and when one is lost itis needless to look for the other."
"I know not about that," said brother John. "I know only thatthe wo
e terror, and she burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
"Charley," she shouted, "here's Eliza misbehaving again."
"I'll settle her," answered a masculine voice, and the young man dashed into the room. He had a brown horse-cloth in his hand, which he threw over the basket, making it fast with a piece of twine so as to effectually imprison its inmate, while his aunt ran across to reassure her visitors.
"It is only a rock snake," she explained.
"Oh, Bertha!" "Oh, Monica!" gasped the poor exhausted gentlewomen.
"She's hatching out some eggs. That is why we have the fire. Eliza always does better when she is warm. She is a sweet, gentle creature, but no doubt she thought that you had designs upon her eggs. I suppose that you did not touch any of them?"
"Oh, let us get away, Bertha!" cried Monica, with her thin, black-gloved hands thrown forwards in abhorrence.
"Not away, but into the next room," said Mrs. Westmacott, with the air of one whose word was law. "This way,
hose of LutheranPastors. Put all this together and say if the human race hasever presented a more unlovely aspect. When we try to find thebrighter spots they are chiefly where civilisation, as apartfrom religion, has built up necessities for the community, suchas hospitals, universities, and organised charities, asconspicuous in Buddhist Japan as in Christian Europe. We cannotdeny that there has been much virtue, much gentleness, muchspirituality in individuals. But the churches were empty husks,which contained no spiritual food for the human race, and had inthe main ceased to influence its actions, save in the directionof soulless forms.This is not an over-coloured picture. Can we not see, then,what was the inner reason for the war? Can we not understandthat it was needful to shake mankind loose from gossip and pinkteas, and sword-worship, and Saturday night drunks, and self-seeking politics and theological quibbles--to wake them up andmake them realise that they stand upon a narro
ous mistake," he said. "I must try and set it right.Yet I don't know how to set about it either. I was going down to thevillage from the Vicarage just after dusk when I found a fellow in atrap who had got himself into broken water. One wheel had sunk into theedge of the ditch which had been hidden by the snow, and the whole thingwas high and dry, with a list to starboard enough to slide him out ofhis seat. I lent a hand, of course, and soon had the wheel in the roadagain. It was quite dark, and I fancy that the fellow thought that Iwas a bumpkin, for we did not exchange five words. As he drove off heshoved this into my hand. It is the merest chance that I did not chuckit away, for, feeling that it was a crumpled piece of paper, I imaginedthat it must be a tradesman's advertisement or something of the kind.However, as luck would have it, I put it in my pocket, and there I foundit when I looked for the dates of our cruise. Now you know as much ofthe matter as I do."
Brother and sister s
irritating when urged by a Boston moralist or aLondon philanthropist upon men whose whole society has been builtupon the assumption that the black is the inferior race. Such apeople like to find the higher morality for themselves, not to haveit imposed upon them by those who live under entirely differentconditions. They feel--and with some reason--that it is a cheapform of virtue which, from the serenity of a well-ordered householdin Beacon Street or Belgrave Square, prescribes what the relationshall be between a white employer and his half-savage,half-childish retainers. Both branches of the Anglo-Celtic racehave grappled with the question, and in each it has led to trouble.
The British Government in South Africa has always played theunpopular part of the friend and protector of the native servants.It was upon this very point that the first friction appearedbetween the old settlers and the new administration. A rising withbloodshed followed the arrest of a Dutch farmer who had maltreatedhis
steel bars. "Depend upon it, though, he feels this more than he shows. Why, it's the only friend he ever had in the world--or ever will have, in all probability. However, it's no business of mine," with which comforting reflection he began to whistle as he turned over the pages of the private day-book of the firm.
It is possible that his son's surmise was right, and that the gaunt, unemotional African merchant felt an unwonted heartache as he hailed a hansom and drove out to his friend's house at Fulham. He and Harston had been charity schoolboys together, had roughed it together, risen together, and prospered together. When John Girdlestone was a raw-boned lad and Harston a chubby-faced urchin, the latter had come to look upon the other as his champion and guide. There are some minds which are parasitic in their nature. Alone they have little vitality, but they love to settle upon some stronger intellect, from which they may borrow their emotions and conclusions at second-hand. A strong, vigorous bra
"Well, to make a long story short, I used to find the little man in his place every morning, always with his black bag, and for nigh unto four months never a day passed without his having his three hours' drive and paying his fare like a man at the end of it. I shifted into new quarters on the strength of it, and was able to buy a new set of harness. I don't say as I altogether swallowed the story of the doctors having recommended him on a hot day to go about in a growler with both windows up. However, it's a bad thing in this world to be too knowing, so though I own I felt a bit curious at it never put myself out o' the way to find out what the little game was. One day, I was driving up to my usual place of dropping him--for by this time we had got into the way of going a regular beat every morning--when I saw a policeman waiting, a perky sort of look about him, as if he had some job on hand. When the cab stopped out jumped the little man with his bag right into the arms of the 'bobby.'
"'I arrest you, John Malone,' says the policeman.
"'On what charge?' he answers as cool as a turnip.
"'On the charge of forging Bank of
count of howhis wife had died, and how he had been able for manyyears to keep in touch with her. All sorts of detailswere given. I read the book with interest, andabsolute scepticism. It seemed to me an example of howa hard practical man might have a weak side to hisbrain, a sort of reaction, as it were, against thoseplain facts of life with which he had to deal. Wherewas this spirit of which he talked? Suppose a man hadan accident and cracked his skull; his whole characterwould change, and a high nature might become a low one.With alcohol or opium or many other drugs one couldapparently quite change a man's spirit. The spiritthen depended upon matter. These were the argumentswhich I used in those days. I did not realise that itwas not the spirit that was changed in such cases, butthe body through which the spirit worked, just as itwould be no argument against the existence of amusician if you tampered with his violin so thatonly discordant notes could come through.
I was suffic
d bobtail of insignificant satellites, wefloat under the same daily conditions towards some unknown end,some squalid catastrophe which will overwhelm us at the ultimateconfines of space, where we are swept over an etheric Niagara ordashed upon some unthinkable Labrador. I see no room here forthe shallow and ignorant optimism of your correspondent, Mr.James Wilson MacPhail, but many reasons why we should watch witha very close and interested attention every indication of changein those cosmic surroundings upon which our own ultimate fatemay depend."
"Man, he'd have made a grand meenister," said McArdle. "It justbooms like an organ. Let's get doun to what it is that'stroubling him."
The general blurring and shifting of Fraunhofer's lines of thespectrum point, in my opinion, to a widespread cosmic change ofa subtle and singular character. Light from a planet is thereflected light of the sun. Light from a star is a self-producedlight. But the spectra both from planets and stars have, in
eye could reach. In all its vast expanse there was no break but for a single galley, which was slowly making its way from the direction of Sicily and heading for the distant harbour of Carthage.
Seen from afar it was a stately and beautiful vessel, deep red in colour, double-banked with scarlet oars, its broad, flapping sail stained with Tyrian purple, its bulwarks gleaming with brass work. A brazen, three-pronged ram projected in front, and a high golden figure of Baal, the God of the Ph[oe]nicians, children of Canaan, shone upon the after-deck. From the single high mast above the huge sail streamed the tiger-striped flag of Carthage. So, like some stately scarlet bird, with golden beak and wings of purple, she swam upon the face of the waters--a thing of might and of beauty as seen from the distant shore.
But approach and look at her now! What are these dark streaks which foul her white decks and dapple her brazen shields? Why do the long red oars move out of time, irregular, convulsive? Why a
to remembrance of the laws under which yelive."
At this sudden outflame of wrath the two witnesses sank theirfaces on to their chests, and sat as men crushed. The Abbotturned his angry eyes away from them and bent them upon theaccused, who met his searching gaze with a firm and composedface.
"What hast thou to say, brother John, upon these weighty thingswhich are urged against you?"
"Little enough, good father, little enough," said the novice,speaking English with a broad West Saxon drawl. The brothers,who were English to a man, pricked up their ears at the sound ofthe homely and yet unfamiliar speech; but the Abbot flushed redwith anger, and struck his hand upon the oaken arm of his chair.
"What talk is this?" he cried. "Is this a tongue to be usedwithin the walls of an old and well-famed monastery? But graceand learning have ever gone hand in hand, and when one is lost itis needless to look for the other."
"I know not about that," said brother John. "I know only thatthe wo
e terror, and she burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
"Charley," she shouted, "here's Eliza misbehaving again."
"I'll settle her," answered a masculine voice, and the young man dashed into the room. He had a brown horse-cloth in his hand, which he threw over the basket, making it fast with a piece of twine so as to effectually imprison its inmate, while his aunt ran across to reassure her visitors.
"It is only a rock snake," she explained.
"Oh, Bertha!" "Oh, Monica!" gasped the poor exhausted gentlewomen.
"She's hatching out some eggs. That is why we have the fire. Eliza always does better when she is warm. She is a sweet, gentle creature, but no doubt she thought that you had designs upon her eggs. I suppose that you did not touch any of them?"
"Oh, let us get away, Bertha!" cried Monica, with her thin, black-gloved hands thrown forwards in abhorrence.
"Not away, but into the next room," said Mrs. Westmacott, with the air of one whose word was law. "This way,