<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935</id><updated>2011-07-28T05:08:41.609-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Space Bombardment</title><subtitle type='html'>Reasons why we should build a modern version of the Deep Space Bombardment Force. To diversify our current atomic arsenal and to grasp the next American Frontier.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>258</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-7846753959007147536</id><published>2010-01-23T11:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T11:26:41.715-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oakhahnCQF0&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oakhahnCQF0&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oakhahnCQF0&amp;feature=player_embedded"&gt;Laser intercept&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hat tip &lt;a href="http://closingvelocity.typepad.com/closing_velocity/2010/01/video-airborne-laser-abl-engages-marti-target.html"&gt;Closing Velocity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-7846753959007147536?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/7846753959007147536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=7846753959007147536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/7846753959007147536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/7846753959007147536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2010/01/laser-intercept-hat-tip-closing.html' title=''/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-5802370910483464115</id><published>2010-01-13T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T18:12:15.417-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Soon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xPo7bAmBuUk/S059LvOTixI/AAAAAAAAAAY/N_GmF8LTP4M/s1600-h/ProjectOrionBattleshipIllustration.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xPo7bAmBuUk/S059LvOTixI/AAAAAAAAAAY/N_GmF8LTP4M/s320/ProjectOrionBattleshipIllustration.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426412241636526866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fantastic-plastic.com/ProjectOrionBattleshipCatalogPage.htm"&gt;Project Orion Battleship Catalog Page&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-5802370910483464115?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/5802370910483464115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=5802370910483464115' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5802370910483464115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5802370910483464115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2010/01/coming-soon.html' title='Coming Soon'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xPo7bAmBuUk/S059LvOTixI/AAAAAAAAAAY/N_GmF8LTP4M/s72-c/ProjectOrionBattleshipIllustration.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-3702328259397414260</id><published>2009-09-20T01:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T01:38:24.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Human Population of Space</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.howmanypeopleareinspacerightnow.com/"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;iframe height="600" width="95%" frameborder="0" src="http://www.howmanypeopleareinspacerightnow.com/"&gt;your browser does not support IFRAMEs&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-3702328259397414260?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/3702328259397414260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=3702328259397414260' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/3702328259397414260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/3702328259397414260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2009/09/human-population-of-space.html' title='Human Population of Space'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-3677993477081993777</id><published>2008-04-14T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T17:19:56.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For Barry Obama</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xPo7bAmBuUk/SAVFkpI5ERI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7QWAjXR0kr4/s1600-h/IMG_1340.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xPo7bAmBuUk/SAVFkpI5ERI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7QWAjXR0kr4/s320/IMG_1340.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189630641435119890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...&lt;strong&gt;they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SRPa0GhxGUs&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SRPa0GhxGUs&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-y5eBRWQerY&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-y5eBRWQerY&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8TJQ8RxzUgI&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8TJQ8RxzUgI&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qVFj7-zzac4&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qVFj7-zzac4&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AzlwKNbwxkw&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AzlwKNbwxkw&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kqXY3RUbBTg&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kqXY3RUbBTg&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JfRFcOzHPg8&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JfRFcOzHPg8&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_sehzGHUpDE&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_sehzGHUpDE&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/F39RS3I0D0Y&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/F39RS3I0D0Y&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyrics: Common People&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge&lt;br /&gt;She studied sculpture at St Martin's college&lt;br /&gt;That's where I....&lt;br /&gt;Caught her eye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me that her Dad was loaded&lt;br /&gt;I said "In that case I'll have rum and coca-cola."&lt;br /&gt;She said "Fine,".....&lt;br /&gt;And then in thirty seconds time she said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to live like common people&lt;br /&gt;I want to do whatever common people do&lt;br /&gt;I want to sleep with common people&lt;br /&gt;I want to sleep with common people like you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh what else could I do?&lt;br /&gt;I said "I'll see what I can do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took her to a supermarket&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, but I had to start it somewhere&lt;br /&gt;So it started .... there&lt;br /&gt;I said "Pretend you've got no money."&lt;br /&gt;But she just laughed an said "Oh you're so funny."&lt;br /&gt;I said "Yeah?&lt;br /&gt;Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you sure you want to live like common people&lt;br /&gt;You want to see whatever common people see&lt;br /&gt;You want to sleep with common people&lt;br /&gt;You want to sleep with common people like me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she didn't ... understand&lt;br /&gt;She just smiled and held my hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rent a flat above a shop&lt;br /&gt;Cut your hair and get a job&lt;br /&gt;Smoke some fags and play some pool&lt;br /&gt;Pretend you never went to school&lt;br /&gt;But still you'll never get it right&lt;br /&gt;`cos when you're laid in bed at night&lt;br /&gt;Watching roaches climb the wall&lt;br /&gt;If you called your dad he could stop it all yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll never live like common people&lt;br /&gt;You'll never do what ever common people do&lt;br /&gt;You'll never fail like common people&lt;br /&gt;You'll never watch your life slide out of view&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then dance, and drink, and screw&lt;br /&gt;Because there's nothing else to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sing along with the common people&lt;br /&gt;Sing along and it might just get you through&lt;br /&gt;Laugh along with the common people&lt;br /&gt;Laugh along even though they're laughing at you&lt;br /&gt;And the stupid things that you do&lt;br /&gt;Because you think that poor is cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a dog lying in a corner&lt;br /&gt;They will bite you and never warn you&lt;br /&gt;Look out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They'll tear your insides out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;`cos everybody hates a tourist&lt;br /&gt;Especially one who thinks it's all such a laugh&lt;br /&gt;Yeah and the chip stain and grease will come out in the bath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will never understand&lt;br /&gt;How it feels to live your life&lt;br /&gt;With no meaning or control&lt;br /&gt;And with nowhere left to go&lt;br /&gt;You are amazed that they exist&lt;br /&gt;And they burn so bright whilst you can only wonder why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rent a flat above a shop&lt;br /&gt;Cut your hair and get a job&lt;br /&gt;Smoke some fags and play some pool&lt;br /&gt;Pretend you never went to school&lt;br /&gt;But still you'll never get it right&lt;br /&gt;`cos when you're laid in bed at night&lt;br /&gt;Watching .... roaches climb the wall&lt;br /&gt;If you called your Dad he could stop it all, Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never live like common people&lt;br /&gt;Never do what common people do&lt;br /&gt;Never fail like common people&lt;br /&gt;Never watch your life .... slide out of view&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then dance, and drink, .... and screw&lt;br /&gt;Because there's nothing else to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to live with common people like  you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He came from Hawaii he had a thirst for power&lt;br /&gt;He studied Law at  Havaaad college&lt;br /&gt;That's where Marx&lt;br /&gt;Caught his eye...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-3677993477081993777?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/3677993477081993777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=3677993477081993777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/3677993477081993777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/3677993477081993777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/04/for-barry-obama.html' title='For Barry Obama'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xPo7bAmBuUk/SAVFkpI5ERI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7QWAjXR0kr4/s72-c/IMG_1340.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-2385338852373341727</id><published>2008-02-17T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:08:46.782-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Mars by A-Bomb</title><content type='html'>A BBC clip...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E3Lxx2VAYi8&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E3Lxx2VAYi8&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-2385338852373341727?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/2385338852373341727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=2385338852373341727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/2385338852373341727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/2385338852373341727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/to-mars-by-bomb.html' title='To Mars by A-Bomb'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-8613517432996229975</id><published>2008-02-14T21:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T21:53:50.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'>George Dyson: Let's take a nuclear-powered rocket to Saturn</title><content type='html'>A Talk at TED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--cut and paste--&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" width="432" height="285" id="VE_Player" align="middle"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.videoegg.com/ted/flash/loader.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="bgColor=FFFFFF&amp;amp;file=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/movies/GEORGEDYSON-2002_high.flv&amp;amp;autoPlay=false&amp;amp;fullscreenURL=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/flash/fullscreen.html&amp;amp;forcePlay=false&amp;amp;logo=&amp;amp;allowFullscreen=true"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="window"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://static.videoegg.com/ted/flash/loader.swf" flashvars="bgColor=FFFFFF&amp;amp;file=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/movies/GEORGEDYSON-2002_high.flv&amp;amp;autoPlay=false&amp;amp;fullscreenURL=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/flash/fullscreen.html&amp;amp;forcePlay=false&amp;amp;logo=&amp;amp;allowFullscreen=true" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#FFFFFF" scale="noscale" wmode="window" width="432" height="285" name="VE_Player" align="middle" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-8613517432996229975?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/8613517432996229975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=8613517432996229975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/8613517432996229975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/8613517432996229975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/george-dyson-lets-take-nuclear-powered.html' title='George Dyson: Let&apos;s take a nuclear-powered rocket to Saturn'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-5770312679727519800</id><published>2008-02-09T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T13:41:28.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>U.S. Plans A- Bomb as a Space Engine; U.S. Plans to Test Atom Space Drive</title><content type='html'>John A Osmundsen&lt;br /&gt;August 16, 1959, Sunday&lt;br /&gt;Page 1!  New York Times&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;American scientists plan to use and atomic bomb for the first time to test the feasibility of powering space ships as big as ocean liners with controlled nuclear explosions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plans have evolved from pilot studies of so-called "nuclear pulse" rocket propulsion. Specialists familiar with this project have told The New York Times that recent developments in this field have been extremely encouraging."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether the first test involving the use of an atomic device will be made as planned rests on the outcome of the nuclear test-ban talks in Geneva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Defense Department has already stated that it will be ready to resume nuclear tests after Ot. 31 of no agreement has been reached by that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the basis of new developments...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continued on page 60, Column 3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-5770312679727519800?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/5770312679727519800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=5770312679727519800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5770312679727519800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5770312679727519800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/us-plans-bomb-as-space-engine-us-plans.html' title='U.S. Plans A- Bomb as a Space Engine; U.S. Plans to Test Atom Space Drive'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-1288546628101630693</id><published>2008-02-08T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T09:13:41.287-08:00</updated><title type='text'>QBR: 0* :Aiming for the Stars</title><content type='html'>Quick Book Review:  Zero Stars&lt;br /&gt;Aiming for the Stars&lt;br /&gt;The Dreamers and Doers of the Space Age&lt;br /&gt;By Tom D Crouch 1999 Smithsonian Institution&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Covers   Space Exploration&lt;br /&gt;Index Counts:&lt;br /&gt;"Project Orion" : 0&lt;br /&gt;Ulam: 0&lt;br /&gt;Atomic propulsion: 0&lt;br /&gt;Sagan's Nuke the Moon: 0&lt;br /&gt;Dyson: 0&lt;br /&gt;Nelson Rockefeller: 0&lt;br /&gt;Sakharov: 1, no mention of PK-5000&lt;br /&gt;General Atomic: 0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total : 0 Points No stars earned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-1288546628101630693?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/1288546628101630693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=1288546628101630693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/1288546628101630693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/1288546628101630693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/qbr-0-aiming-for-stars.html' title='QBR: 0* :Aiming for the Stars'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-5920035384898943165</id><published>2008-02-05T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T08:59:39.003-08:00</updated><title type='text'>QBR:  0*: Exploring Space:Voyages in the Solar Sytem and Beyond</title><content type='html'>Quick Book Review:   Zero Stars,  non-attentive.&lt;br /&gt;Exploring Space:&lt;br /&gt;Voyages in the Solar Sytem and Beyond&lt;br /&gt;By William Burrows 1990&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Covers (low energy fuel based)  Space Exploration from Kepler to 1989&lt;br /&gt;Index Counts:&lt;br /&gt;"Project Orion" : 0&lt;br /&gt;Ulam: 0&lt;br /&gt;Atomic propulsion: 0&lt;br /&gt;Sagan's Nuke the Moon: 1 (looses points for attitude) final credit 0&lt;br /&gt;Dyson: 0&lt;br /&gt;Nelson Rockefeller: 0&lt;br /&gt;Sakharov: 0&lt;br /&gt;General Atomic:0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total : 0 Points No start earned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-5920035384898943165?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/5920035384898943165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=5920035384898943165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5920035384898943165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5920035384898943165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/qbr-0-exploring-spacevoyages-in-solar.html' title='QBR:  0*: Exploring Space:Voyages in the Solar Sytem and Beyond'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-7215783493604506926</id><published>2008-02-03T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T20:56:57.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bohr Helps Open an Atom Center</title><content type='html'>New York Times June 26, 1959&lt;br /&gt;Pg. 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;San Diego, Calif., June 25 - Dr. Niels Bohr, whose research helped make atomic bombs possible said today that mankind's "common inheritance" of science and technology presented both opportunities and obligations for promoting international understanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Any increase in our knowledge and abilities at the same time implies a greater responsibility due to our increased power of shaping the conditions of  human life.", he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one of his rare public appearances the 73-year-old scientist, director of the of the Institute for Theoretical Physics in Copenhagen, was principal speaker at the dedication of the $10,000,000 Johns Jay Hopkins Laboratory for Pure and Applied Science here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Industrial Project&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laboaratory is an operation of the General Atomic Division of the General Dynsamics Corporation, whose products range from atomic submarines to Atlas intercontenental missiles.&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Hopkins led the corporation when he died in 1957.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of its major projects are power generators for groups of utility companies centered in Philadelphia and Texas. Another is the Orion project, a study for the Defense Department of propulsion of 1,00o-ton "space platform by controlled atomic reactions. Another project is for the production of gas-cooled nuclear turbine engine for ships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dedication was attended by about 2,000 persons, including an international aggregation of scientists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reactor Power Used&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Hopkins' widow pressed two buttons, unveiling a commemorative plaque using combined nuclear fission and fusion power for two of the laboratory's reactors.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-7215783493604506926?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/7215783493604506926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=7215783493604506926' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/7215783493604506926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/7215783493604506926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/bohr-helps-open-atom-center.html' title='Bohr Helps Open an Atom Center'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-5557505943232977089</id><published>2008-02-01T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T20:14:22.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad operational security</title><content type='html'>NASA &lt;a href="http://www.foxbusiness.com/article/nasa-beatles-celebrate-anniversaries-beaming-song-universe-deep-space_460871_1.html"&gt;sends&lt;/a&gt; early warning to the unknown potential of the &lt;a href="http://www.nasa.gov/home/hqnews/2006/jan/HQ_06004_hubble.html"&gt;three&lt;/a&gt; north stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bbirjVeI_Pk&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bbirjVeI_Pk&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-5557505943232977089?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/5557505943232977089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=5557505943232977089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5557505943232977089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/5557505943232977089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/02/bad-operational-security.html' title='Bad operational security'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-244104019592131089</id><published>2008-01-24T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T08:57:13.282-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Project Orion Chief Named</title><content type='html'>NYT October 22, 1959&lt;br /&gt;Pg. 31&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;San Diego, Calif., Oct 21 (AP) The company in charge of developing nuclear propulsion for space vehicles said today that John M. Wild, a space engineer, would direct the project, known as Orion. General Atomic Division of the General Dynamics Corporation said. Mr. Wild would come here from Tullahoma, Tenn., where he has been director of engineering for Aro Inc., which operated the Arnold Engineering Development Center for the Air Force.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-244104019592131089?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/244104019592131089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=244104019592131089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/244104019592131089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/244104019592131089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2008/01/project-orion-chief-named.html' title='Project Orion Chief Named'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914249966294029</id><published>2006-12-29T17:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T10:25:54.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Huygens' Landing on Titan</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tD5JWnn66LU"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tD5JWnn66LU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914249966294029?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914249966294029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914249966294029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914249966294029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914249966294029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/12/huygens-landing-on-titan.html' title='Huygens&apos; Landing on Titan'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914257342728789</id><published>2006-11-07T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T20:26:00.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Atomic Weapons Orientation Parts 5 and 6</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4vbMC1MlXp0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4vbMC1MlXp0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914257342728789?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914257342728789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914257342728789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914257342728789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914257342728789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/11/atomic-weapons-orientation-parts-5-and.html' title='Atomic Weapons Orientation Parts 5 and 6'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-113076469780297632</id><published>2006-11-03T05:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T17:18:13.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aldebaran parameters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/aldebaran2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/aldebaran2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pat's &lt;a href="http://groups.google.com/group/sci.space.policy/msg/683218e5185d0d83?hl=en&amp;"&gt;ideas&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mass:&lt;br /&gt;Thrust:&lt;br /&gt;Thrust/Drag:&lt;br /&gt;Pulse size:&lt;br /&gt;Frequency:&lt;br /&gt;Pulse Unit mass:&lt;br /&gt;Cruise Duration:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-113076469780297632?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/113076469780297632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=113076469780297632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/113076469780297632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/113076469780297632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/11/aldebaran-parameters.html' title='Aldebaran parameters'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116251279551486854</id><published>2006-11-02T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T21:02:34.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AFSWC-TD-59-39</title><content type='html'>Re: &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/11/sagan-on-orion-from-cosmos.html"&gt;Sagan &lt;/a&gt;, Project A-119 and the related 400 kg Soviet &lt;a href="www.svengrahn.pp.se/histind/E3/E3orig.htm"&gt;E-4&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The PDF is &lt;a href="http://utenti.lycos.it/paoloulivi/tr5939v1.html"&gt;available &lt;/a&gt;at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PDF TR-59-39&lt;br /&gt;Abstract&lt;br /&gt;Nuclear detonations in the vicinity of the moon are considered in this report along with scientific information which might be obtained from such explosions. The military aspect is aided by investigation of space envioronment, detection of nuclear &lt;br /&gt;testing, and capability of weapons in space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    A study was conducted of various thories of the moon's structure and origin, and a description of the probable nature of the lunar surface is given. The areas discussed in some detail are optical lunar studies, seismic observations, lunar surface and magnetic fiels, plasma and maganetic field effects, and organic matter on the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AFSWC-TD-59-39&lt;br /&gt;Vol 1&lt;br /&gt;0143705&lt;br /&gt;Headquarters&lt;br /&gt;Air Force Special Weapons Center&lt;br /&gt;Air Research and Devlopment Command&lt;br /&gt;Kirtland Air Force Base, New Mexicon&lt;br /&gt;image&lt;br /&gt;A Study of Lunar Research Flights&lt;br /&gt;Vol 1&lt;br /&gt;by&lt;br /&gt;L. Reiffel&lt;br /&gt;Armour Research Foundation of Illinois Institute of Technology&lt;br /&gt;19 June 1959&lt;br /&gt;- Cover -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116251279551486854?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116251279551486854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116251279551486854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116251279551486854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116251279551486854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/11/afswc-td-59-39.html' title='AFSWC-TD-59-39'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116226891768971024</id><published>2006-10-30T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T20:28:37.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Casaba Howitzer, definitions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.fas.org/spp/military/program/lexicon.htm"&gt;Casaba:&lt;/a&gt; A hypervelocity particle NDEW concept developed in the 1960.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fas.org/spp/military/program/lexicon.htm"&gt;Howitzer&lt;/a&gt;: An X-Ray laser NDEW concept examined in the 1960's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See also&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/04/100-million-k.html"&gt;"Casaba and "nuclear howitzer" were names for weapon applications."&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/04/plasma-howitzer-concept.html"&gt;The plasma howitzer concept&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116226891768971024?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116226891768971024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116226891768971024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116226891768971024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116226891768971024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/casaba-howitzer-definitions.html' title='Casaba Howitzer, definitions'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914274949111480</id><published>2006-10-30T17:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T19:58:39.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Atomic Mambo</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FbXgvlvETlA"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FbXgvlvETlA" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914274949111480?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914274949111480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914274949111480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914274949111480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914274949111480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/atomic-mambo.html' title='Atomic Mambo'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116181974680947609</id><published>2006-10-25T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T20:08:14.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Project Orion focused Space and Political Web Search</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.google.com/coop/cse?cx=003653535021388343563%3Aw1o0oqelxso"&gt;Here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116181974680947609?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116181974680947609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116181974680947609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116181974680947609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116181974680947609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/project-orion-focused-space-and.html' title='Project Orion focused Space and Political Web Search'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116175023635211608</id><published>2006-10-24T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T21:23:56.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Contemplating Orion</title><content type='html'>The &lt;a href="http://www.boingboing.net/2006/10/17/project_orion_more_c.html"&gt;Boing-Boing&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/xeni/sets/72157594329917915/"&gt;Orion &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.boingboing.net/2006/10/17/boing_boing_boing_po.html"&gt;posts &lt;/a&gt;were quite popular and well &lt;a href="http://blogsearch.google.com/blogsearch?hl=en&amp;q=%22project+orion%22&amp;btnG=Search+Blogs"&gt;linked&lt;/a&gt;, more that NASA's Project Orion this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linkers and thinkers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://prairieprogressive.blogspot.com/2006/10/weekend-marginalia_22.html"&gt;prairieprogressive&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;a href="http://www.teamdroid.com/archives/2006/10/22/project-orion-unpublished-documents/"&gt;Imagine &lt;/a&gt;what mankind could do with such a vehicle. Moon, Mars, Pluto, the stars! Too bad it’s a bit on the messy side."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"the Orion story is a reminder of a day not so long ago when the outer planets were considered as &lt;a href="http://www.centauri-dreams.org/?p=865"&gt;viable &lt;/a&gt;an option for manned &lt;br /&gt;flight as the Moon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The existence and results of Project Orion are one of the &lt;a href="http://digital-orrery.blogspot.com/2006/10/old-documents-live-again_20.html"&gt;big reasons&lt;/a&gt; that I don't give much credit to folks who discount &lt;br /&gt;large-scale space exploration as economically or technologically infeasible."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It should be &lt;a href="http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1722072/posts"&gt;reconsidered&lt;/a&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://hobbyspace.com/nucleus/index.php?itemid=2611"&gt;hobbyspace&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.buyitordie.com/links-for-2006-10-18-delicious-4954.html"&gt;buyitordie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aeronautic tech is cool. Classified aeronautic tech is &lt;a href="http://pixelateddreams.blogspot.com/2006/10/project-orion-documents-published.html"&gt;way cooler&lt;/a&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://spacetimecurves.blogspot.com/2006/10/top-secret-except-for-our-old-buddy.html"&gt;spacetimecurves&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"powering a spacecraft with Nuclear Energy so that man can take a &lt;a href="http://www.spacescan.org/entry/project-orion-the-true-story-explained/"&gt;quantum leap&lt;/a&gt; in his quest to explore the unknown space."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wastetimeonline.com/3059539-Project-Orion-unpublished-documents.html"&gt;wastetimeonline&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sumitsays.com/links/archives/2006/10/18/links_for_20061018"&gt;sumitsays&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://blog.founddrama.net/2006/10/links-for-2006-10-18/"&gt;founddrama&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://silas216.wordpress.com/2006/10/17/links-for-2006-10-17/"&gt;silas216&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://science.netscape.com/story/2006/10/17/-project-orion-unpublished-space-nuke-documents"&gt;science.netscape&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.naikmichel.com/2006/10/17/project-orion-more-classified-unpublished-space-nuke-docs/"&gt;naikmichel&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://spliffrd.livejournal.com/1288160.html"&gt;spliffrd&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lucasthegray.livejournal.com/77192.html"&gt;lucasthegray&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://scribeoflight.livejournal.com/353992.html"&gt;scribeoflight&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lstr.net/blog/?p=57"&gt;lstr&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://storm-fist.livejournal.com/80786.html"&gt;storm-fist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116175023635211608?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116175023635211608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116175023635211608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116175023635211608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116175023635211608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/contemplating-orion.html' title='Contemplating Orion'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914791309197454</id><published>2006-10-24T06:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T20:33:33.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Explosions</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZwUZq2piU-s"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZwUZq2piU-s" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914791309197454?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914791309197454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914791309197454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914791309197454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914791309197454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/big-explosions.html' title='Big Explosions'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116105589690707363</id><published>2006-10-16T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T20:31:36.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Project Orion documents available</title><content type='html'>Collected by George Dyson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Xeni has posted them to &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/xeni/270611730/in/set-72157594329917915/"&gt;Flickr&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hat tip to &lt;a href="http://www.warrenellis.com/?p=3145"&gt;Warren Ellis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116105589690707363?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116105589690707363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116105589690707363' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116105589690707363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116105589690707363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/new-project-orion-documents-available.html' title='New Project Orion documents available'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116092790822169326</id><published>2006-10-15T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T08:59:18.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Early launch plans</title><content type='html'>Wigwam test site&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/launchbarge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/launchbarge.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116092790822169326?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116092790822169326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116092790822169326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116092790822169326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116092790822169326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/early-launch-plans.html' title='Early launch plans'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116073955648862161</id><published>2006-10-13T04:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T04:39:16.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The United States Constitution</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/constitution_signing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/constitution_signing.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Article. IV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Section. 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union; but no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any other State; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, or Parts of States, without the Consent of the Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of the Congress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the United States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so construed as to Prejudice any Claims of the United States, or of any particular State. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(See Note 1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.&lt;br /&gt;Article. I.&lt;br /&gt;Section 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second Year by the People of the several States, and the Electors in each State shall have the Qualifications requisite for Electors of the most numerous Branch of the State Legislature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: No Person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the Age of twenty five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he shall be chosen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons. (See Note 2) The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten Years, in such Manner as they shall by Law direct. The Number of Representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand, but each State shall have at Least one Representative; and until such enumeration shall be made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to chuse three, Massachusetts eight, Rhode-Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut five, New-York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, Maryland six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and Georgia three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 4: When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Executive Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 5: The House of Representatives shall chuse their Speaker and other Officers; and shall have the sole Power of Impeachment.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen by the Legislature thereof, (See Note 3) for six Years; and each Senator shall have one Vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: Immediately after they shall be assembled in Consequence of the first Election, they shall be divided as equally as may be into three Classes. The Seats of the Senators of the first Class shall be vacated at the Expiration of the second Year, of the second Class at the Expiration of the fourth Year, and of the third Class at the Expiration of the sixth Year, so that one third may be chosen every second Year; and if Vacancies happen by Resignation, or otherwise, during the Recess of the Legislature of any State, the Executive thereof may make temporary Appointments until the next Meeting of the Legislature, which shall then fill such Vacancies. (See Note 4)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: No Person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be chosen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 4: The Vice President of the United States shall be President of the Senate, but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 5: The Senate shall chuse their other Officers, and also a President pro tempore, in the Absence of the Vice President, or when he shall exercise the Office of President of the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 6: The Senate shall have the sole Power to try all Impeachments. When sitting for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath or Affirmation. When the President of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside: And no Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the Members present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 7: Judgment in Cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from Office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of honor, Trust or Profit under the United States: but the Party convicted shall nevertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment and Punishment, according to Law.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year, and such Meeting shall be on the first Monday in December, (See Note 5) unless they shall by Law appoint a different Day.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns and Qualifications of its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a Quorum to do Business; but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to day, and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: Each House may determine the Rules of its Proceedings, punish its Members for disorderly Behaviour, and, with the Concurrence of two thirds, expel a Member.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: Each House shall keep a Journal of its Proceedings, and from time to time publish the same, excepting such Parts as may in their Judgment require Secrecy; and the Yeas and Nays of the Members of either House on any question shall, at the Desire of one fifth of those Present, be entered on the Journal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 4: Neither House, during the Session of Congress, shall, without the Consent of the other, adjourn for more than three days, nor to any other Place than that in which the two Houses shall be sitting.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The Senators and Representatives shall receive a Compensation for their Services, to be ascertained by Law, and paid out of the Treasury of the United States. (See Note 6) They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony and Breach of the Peace, beprivileged from Arrest during their Attendance at the Session of their respective Houses, and in going to and returning from the same; and for any Speech or Debate in either House, they shall not be questioned in any other Place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: No Senator or Representative shall, during the Time for which he was elected, be appointed to any civil Office under the Authority of the United States, which shall have been created, or the Emoluments whereof shall have been encreased during such time; and no Person holding any Office under the United States, shall be a Member of either House during his Continuance in Office.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: All Bills for raising Revenue shall originate in the House of Representatives; but the Senate may propose or concur with Amendments as on other Bills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: Every Bill which shall have passed the House of Representatives and the Senate, shall, before it become a Law, be presented to the President of the United States; If he approve he shall sign it, but if not he shall return it, with his Objections to that House in which it shall have originated, who shall enter the Objections at large on their Journal, and proceed to reconsider it. If after such Reconsideration two thirds of that House shall agree to pass the Bill, it shall be sent, together with the Objections, to the other House, by which it shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two thirds of that House, it shall become a Law. But in all such Cases the Votes of both Houses shall be determined by yeas and Nays, and the Names of the Persons voting for and against the Bill shall be entered on the Journal of each House respectively. If any Bill shall not be returned by the President within ten Days (Sundays excepted) after it shall have been presented to him, the Same shall be a Law, in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless the Congress by their Adjournment prevent its Return, in which Case it shall not be a Law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: Every Order, Resolution, or Vote to which the Concurrence of the Senate and House of Representatives may be necessary (except on a question of Adjournment) shall be presented to the President of the United States; and before the Same shall take Effect, shall be approved by him, or being disapproved by him, shall be repassed by two thirds of the Senate and House of Representatives, according to the Rules and Limitations prescribed in the Case of a Bill.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: To borrow Money on the credit of the United States;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: To regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian Tribes;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 4: To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws on the subject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 5: To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the Standard of Weights and Measures;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 6: To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities and current Coin of the United States;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 7: To establish Post Offices and post Roads;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 8: To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 9: To constitute Tribunals inferior to the supreme Court;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 10: To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, and Offences against the Law of Nations;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 11: To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules concerning Captures on Land and Water;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 12: To raise and support Armies, but no Appropriation of Money to that Use shall be for a longer Term than two Years;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 13: To provide and maintain a Navy;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 14: To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval Forces;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 15: To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, suppress Insurrections and repel Invasions;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 16: To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining, the Militia, and for governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United States, reserving to the States respectively, the Appointment of the Officers, and the Authority of training the Militia according to the discipline prescribed by Congress;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 17: To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, byCession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings;--And&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 18: To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 9.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a Tax or duty may be imposed on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars for each Person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: No Bill of Attainder or ex post facto Law shall be passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 4: No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken. (See Note 7)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 5: No Tax or Duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any State.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 6: No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue to the Ports of one State over those of another: nor shall Vessels bound to, or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 7: No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appropriations made by Law; and a regular Statement and Account of the Receipts and Expenditures of all public Money shall be published from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 8: No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: No State shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or Confederation; grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal; coin Money; emit Bills of Credit; make any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts; pass any Bill of Attainder, ex post facto Law, or Law impairing the Obligation of Contracts, or grant any Title of Nobility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: No State shall, without the Consent of the Congress, lay any Imposts or Duties on Imports or Exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing it's inspection Laws: and the net Produce of all Duties and Imposts, laid by any State on Imports or Exports, shall be for the Use of the Treasury of the United States; and all such Laws shall be subject to the Revision and Controul of the Congress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: No State shall, without the Consent of Congress, lay any Duty of Tonnage, keep Troops, or Ships of War in time of Peace, enter into any Agreement or Compact with another State, or with a foreign Power, or engage in War, unless actually invaded, or in such imminent Danger as will not admit of delay.&lt;br /&gt;Article. II.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America. He shall hold his Office during the Term of four Years, and, together with the Vice President, chosen for the same Term, be elected, as follows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: Each State shall appoint, in such Manner as the Legislature thereof may direct, a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and Representatives to which the State may be entitled in the Congress: but no Senator or Representative, or Person holding an Office of Trust or Profit under the United States, shall be appointed an Elector.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: The Electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by Ballot for two Persons, of whom one at least shall not be an Inhabitant of the same State with themselves. And they shall make a List of all the Persons voted for, and of the Number of Votes for each; which List they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to the Seat of the Government of the United States, directed to the President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall, in the Presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the Certificates, and the Votes shall then be counted. The Person having the greatest Number of Votes shall be the President, if such Number be a Majority of the whole Number of Electors appointed; and if there be more than one who have such Majority, and have an equal Number of Votes, then the House of Representatives shall immediately chuse by Ballot one of them for President; and if no Person have a Majority, then from the five highest on the List the said House shall in like Manner chuse the President. But in chusing the President, the Votes shall be taken by States, the Representation from each State having one Vote; A quorum for this Purpose shall consist of a Member or Members from two thirds of the States, and a Majority of all the States shall be necessary to a Choice. In every Case, after the Choice of the President, the Person having the greatest Number of Votes of the Electors shall be the Vice President. But if there should remain two or more who have equal Votes, the Senate shall chuse from them by Ballot the Vice President. (See Note 8)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 4: The Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same throughout the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 5: No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 6: In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death, Resignation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the said Office, (See Note 9) the Same shall devolve on the VicePresident, and the Congress may by Law provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation or Inability, both of the President and Vice President, declaring what Officer shall then act as President, and such Officer shall act accordingly, until the Disability be removed, or a President shall be elected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 7: The President shall, at stated Times, receive for his Services, a Compensation, which shall neither be encreased nor diminished during the Period for which he shall have been elected, and he shall not receive within that Period any other Emolument from the United States, or any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 8: Before he enter on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following Oath or Affirmation:--"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."&lt;br /&gt;Section. 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several States, when called into the actual Service of the United States; he may require the Opinion, in writing, of the principal Officer in each of the executive Departments, upon any Subject relating to the Duties of their respective Offices, and he shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur; and he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the supreme Court, and all other Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein otherwise provided for, and which shall be established by Law: but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior Officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, or in the Heads of Departments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen during the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall expire at the End of their next Session.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; he may, on extraordinary Occasions, convene both Houses, or either of them, and in Case of Disagreement between them, with Respect to the Time of Adjournment, he may adjourn them to such Time as he shall think proper; he shall receive Ambassadors and other public Ministers; he shall take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed, and shall Commission all the Officers of the United States.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.&lt;br /&gt;Article. III.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish. The Judges, both of the supreme and inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good Behaviour, and shall, at stated Times, receive for their Services, a Compensation, which shall not be diminished during their Continuance in Office.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The judicial Power shall extend to all Cases, in Law and Equity, arising under this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and Treaties made, or which shall be made, under their Authority;--to all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls;--to all Cases of admiralty and maritime Jurisdiction;--to Controversies to which the United States shall be a Party;--to Controversies between two or more States;--between a State and Citizens of another State; (See Note 10)--between Citizens of different States, --between Citizens of the same State claiming Lands under Grants of different States, and between a State, or the Citizens thereof, and foreign States, Citizens or Subjects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: In all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, and those in which a State shall be Party, the supreme Court shall have original Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the supreme Court shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact, with such Exceptions, and under such Regulations as the Congress shall make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury; and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the Trial shall be at such Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort. No Person shall be convicted of Treason unless on the Testimony of two Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: The Congress shall have Power to declare the Punishment of Treason, but no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture except during the Life of the Person attainted.&lt;br /&gt;Article. IV.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the public Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, Records and Proceedings shall be proved, and the Effect thereof.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges and Immunities of Citizens in the several States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime, who shall flee from Justice, and be found in another State, shall on Demand of the executive Authority of the State from which he fled, be delivered up, to be removed to the State having Jurisdiction of the Crime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: No Person held to Service or Labour in one State, under the Laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein, be discharged from such Service or Labour, but shall be delivered up on Claim of the Party to whom such Service or Labour may be due. (See Note 11)&lt;br /&gt;Section. 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union; but no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any other State; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, or Parts of States, without the Consent of the Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of the Congress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the United States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so construed as to Prejudice any Claims of the United States, or of any particular State.&lt;br /&gt;Section. 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union a Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against Invasion; and on Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive (when the Legislature cannot be convened) against domestic Violence.&lt;br /&gt;Article. V.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it necessary, shall propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application of the Legislatures of two thirds of the several States, shall call a Convention for proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Intents and Purposes, as Part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures of three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by the Congress; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to the Year One thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect the first and fourth Clauses in the Ninth Section of the first Article; and that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal Suffrage in the Senate.&lt;br /&gt;Article. VI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 1: All Debts contracted and Engagements entered into, before the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States under this Constitution, as under the Confederation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 2: This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clause 3: The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.&lt;br /&gt;Article. VII.&lt;br /&gt;The Ratification of the Conventions of nine States, shall be sufficient for the Establishment of this Constitution between the States so ratifying the Same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present the Seventeenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and Eighty seven and of the Independence of the United States of America the Twelfth In witness whereof We have hereunto subscribed our Names,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO WASHINGTON--Presidt. and deputy from Virginia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Signed also by the deputies of twelve States.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delaware&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geo: Read&lt;br /&gt;Gunning Bedford jun&lt;br /&gt;John Dickinson&lt;br /&gt;Richard Bassett&lt;br /&gt;Jaco: Broom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maryland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James MCHenry&lt;br /&gt;Dan of ST ThoS. Jenifer&lt;br /&gt;DanL Carroll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Virginia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Blair--&lt;br /&gt;James Madison Jr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;North Carolina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WM Blount&lt;br /&gt;RichD. Dobbs Spaight.&lt;br /&gt;Hu Williamson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;South Carolina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J. Rutledge&lt;br /&gt;Charles 1ACotesworth Pinckney&lt;br /&gt;Charles Pinckney&lt;br /&gt;Pierce Butler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Georgia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;William Few&lt;br /&gt;Abr Baldwin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Hampshire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Langdon&lt;br /&gt;Nicholas Gilman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Massachusetts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathaniel Gorham&lt;br /&gt;Rufus King&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connecticut&lt;br /&gt;WM. SamL. Johnson&lt;br /&gt;Roger Sherman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New York&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alexander Hamilton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Jersey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wil: Livingston&lt;br /&gt;David Brearley.&lt;br /&gt;WM. Paterson.&lt;br /&gt;Jona: Dayton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pennsylvania&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B Franklin&lt;br /&gt;Thomas Mifflin&lt;br /&gt;RobT Morris&lt;br /&gt;Geo. Clymer&lt;br /&gt;ThoS. FitzSimons&lt;br /&gt;Jared Ingersoll&lt;br /&gt;James Wilson.&lt;br /&gt;Gouv Morris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attest William Jackson Secretary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 1: This text of the Constitution follows the engrossed copy signed by Gen. Washington and the deputies from 12 States. The small superior figures preceding the paragraphs designate Clauses, and were not in the original and have no reference to footnotes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Constitution was adopted by a convention of the States on September 17, 1787, and was subsequently ratified by the several States, on the following dates: Delaware, December 7, 1787; Pennsylvania, December 12, 1787; New Jersey, December 18, 1787; Georgia, January 2, 1788; Connecticut, January 9, 1788; Massachusetts, February 6, 1788; Maryland, April 28, 1788; South Carolina, May 23, 1788; New Hampshire, June 21, 1788.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ratification was completed on June 21, 1788.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Constitution was subsequently ratified by Virginia, June 25, 1788; New York, July 26, 1788; North Carolina, November 21, 1789; Rhode Island, May 29, 1790; and Vermont, January 10, 1791.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In May 1785, a committee of Congress made a report recommending an alteration in the Articles of Confederation, but no action was taken on it, and it was left to the State Legislatures to proceed in the matter. In January 1786, the Legislature of Virginia passed a resolution providing for the appointment of five commissioners, who, or any three of them, should meet such commissioners as might be appointed in the other States of the Union, at a time and place to be agreed upon, to take into consideration the trade of the United States; to consider how far a uniform system in their commercial regulations may be necessary to their common interest and their permanent harmony; and to report to the several States such an act, relative to this great object, as, when ratified by them, will enable the United States in Congress effectually to provide for the same. The Virginia commissioners, after some correspondence, fixed the first Monday in September as the time, and the city of Annapolis as the place for the meeting, but only four other States were represented, viz: Delaware, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania; the commissioners appointed by Massachusetts, New Hampshire, North Carolina, and Rhode Island failed to attend. Under the circumstances of so partial a representation, the commissioners present agreed upon a report, (drawn by Mr. Hamilton, of New York,) expressing their unanimous conviction that it might essentially tend to advance the interests of the Union if the States by which they were respectively delegated would concur, and use their endeavors to procure the concurrence of the other States, in the appointment of commissioners to meet at Philadelphia on the Second Monday of May following, to take into consideration the situation of the United States; to devise such further provisions as should appear to them necessary to render the Constitution of the Federal Government adequate to the exigencies of the Union; and to report such an act for that purpose to the United States in Congress assembled as, when agreed to by them and afterwards confirmed by the Legislatures of every State, would effectually provide for the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congress, on the 21st of February, 1787, adopted a resolution in favor of a convention, and the Legislatures of those States which had not already done so (with the exception of Rhode Island) promptly appointed delegates. On the 25th of May, seven States having convened, George Washington, of Virginia, was unanimously elected President, and the consideration of the proposed constitution was commenced. On the 17th of September, 1787, the Constitution as engrossed and agreed upon was signed by all the members present, except Mr. Gerry of Massachusetts, and Messrs. Mason and Randolph, of Virginia. The president of the convention transmitted it to Congress, with a resolution stating how the proposed Federal Government should be put in operation, and an explanatory letter. Congress, on the 28th of September, 1787, directed the Constitution so framed, with the resolutions and letter concerning the same, to "be transmitted to the several Legislatures in order to be submitted to a convention of delegates chosen in each State by the people thereof, in conformity to the resolves of the convention."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the 4th of March, 1789, the day which had been fixed for commencing the operations of Government under the new Constitution, it had been ratified by the conventions chosen in each State to consider it, as follows: Delaware, December 7, 1787; Pennsylvania, December 12, 1787; New Jersey, December 18, 1787; Georgia, January 2, 1788; Connecticut, January 9, 1788; Massachusetts, February 6, 1788; Maryland, April 28, 1788; South Carolina, May 23, 1788; New Hampshire, June 21, 1788; Virginia, June 25, 1788; and New York, July 26, 1788.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The President informed Congress, on the 28th of January, 1790, that North Carolina had ratified the Constitution November 21, 1789; and he informed Congress on the 1st of June, 1790, that Rhode Island had ratified the Constitution May 29, 1790. Vermont, in convention, ratified the Constitution January 10, 1791, and was, by an act of Congress approved February 18, 1791, "received and admitted into this Union as a new and entire member of the United States."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 2: The part of this Clause relating to the mode of apportionment of representatives among the several States has been affected by Section 2 of amendment XIV, and as to taxes on incomes without apportionment by amendment XVI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 3: This Clause has been affected by Clause 1 of amendment XVII.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 4: This Clause has been affected by Clause 2 of amendment XVIII.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 5: This Clause has been affected by amendment XX.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 6: This Clause has been affected by amendment XXVII.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 7: This Clause has been affected by amendment XVI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 8: This Clause has been superseded by amendment XII.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 9: This Clause has been affected by amendment XXV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 10: This Clause has been affected by amendment XI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 11: This Clause has been affected by amendment XIII.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of September 20, 2004&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116073955648862161?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116073955648862161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116073955648862161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116073955648862161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116073955648862161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/united-states-constitution.html' title='The United States Constitution'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116070303339653245</id><published>2006-10-12T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T18:30:33.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Land!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/jeff3g02474.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/jeff3g02474.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If there was a single unyielding &lt;a href="http://www.lewis-clark.org/content/content-article.asp?ArticleID=317"&gt;American national characteristic&lt;/a&gt;, it was land hunger. Slave or free, Indian or not, land hunger drove a westward push so fast, so intensely, so relentlessly, that by the time of Thomas Jefferson's death (and John Adam's on that same Fourth of July, 1826), the Louisiana Territory was already becoming a plowed and cultivated land."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116070303339653245?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116070303339653245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116070303339653245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116070303339653245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116070303339653245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/land.html' title='Land!'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914794580839054</id><published>2006-10-10T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T04:48:51.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nuclear Boom</title><content type='html'>Thermonuclear age...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dNZAgiKZ8ak"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dNZAgiKZ8ak" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914794580839054?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914794580839054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914794580839054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914794580839054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914794580839054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/nuclear-boom.html' title='Nuclear Boom'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116044949856208958</id><published>2006-10-09T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T20:06:07.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A post about Project Orion from China</title><content type='html'>"Faint!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another question:Theodore Taylor was the leader of project Orion. Information&lt;br /&gt;in the passage:Project &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orion was driven by Theodore,and ***heavily involved.&lt;br /&gt;The answer is that the information is not mentioned in the passage. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://vivican.spaces.live.com/"&gt;crossrainbow's freedom&lt;/a&gt; -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116044949856208958?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116044949856208958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116044949856208958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116044949856208958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116044949856208958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/post-about-project-orion-from-china.html' title='A post about Project Orion from China'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116039336642604964</id><published>2006-10-09T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T20:12:07.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Index of Time</title><content type='html'>Project Orion timeline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 3, 1957 - Project Orion &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/09/problems-with-problems-with-orion_28.html"&gt;started&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-13 Billion years - Big bang, 9.5 x 10**53 &lt;a href="http://imagine.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/ask_astro/answers/980211b.html"&gt;Megatons &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116039336642604964?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116039336642604964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116039336642604964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116039336642604964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116039336642604964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/index-of-time.html' title='Index of Time'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-112838964657842026</id><published>2006-10-09T06:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T04:14:03.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lowther on the USAF Orion Space Battleship</title><content type='html'>"the &lt;a href="http://groups.google.com/group/soc.history.what-if/msg/bbc4c7350809ee14?hl=en&amp;"&gt;USAF designs&lt;/a&gt;, at least what is available&lt;br /&gt;on them, indicate even LARGER craft were under study, from 87 to 130&lt;br /&gt;feet 26.5 to 39.6 meter) in diameter, which would have had even greater&lt;br /&gt;performance. From what I can tell, these larger craft were the ones that&lt;br /&gt;Ted Taylor referred to as a "space battelship."  "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://projectorion.proboards28.com/index.cgi?action=display&amp;board=art&amp;thread=1126155069&amp;page=1"&gt;Spot the Orion&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;« Thread Started on Sept 8, 2005, 5:51am » &lt;br /&gt;Theres a 12-meter Orion (strategic weapon version) on &lt;a href="http://www.up-ship.com/Book/bomproj.htm"&gt;this page&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #1 on Sept 8, 2005, 8:44am » &lt;br /&gt;Got it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Earth First&lt;br /&gt;We'll strip mine the other planets later!&lt;br /&gt;makikomi&lt;br /&gt;Orion Captain&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt; &lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #2 on Sept 8, 2005, 4:06pm » &lt;br /&gt;I got it too. Interesting. Also--what does "strategic weapon version" mean? Does this have anything to do with the Air Force's attempt to save the project by using it as a weapons delivery system, etc.? A long answer would be preferred over a short one.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The secret of victory: "Get there fustest with the mostest" Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest, CSA&lt;br /&gt;-----------------&lt;br /&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #3 on Sept 8, 2005, 6:00pm » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept 8, 2005, 4:06pm, makikomi wrote:&lt;br /&gt;what does "strategic weapon version" mean? .... A long answer would be preferred over a short one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The long answer.... will be given in the book (possibly sooner if'n I decide to seel the "Space Bombers" section separately).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The short answer: seven 156" solid rockets loft a 12-meter Orion, which boosts itself to LEO, and then to a LEO/100,000 n.m transfer orbit, and then to a 100,000 n.m. circular orbit, where it sits until the Soviets get uppity. At which point it either launches weapons from that distance and serves as an unreachable launch platform, or boosts itself to hyperbolic flyby past the Russkies and drops several boomers worth or ordnance, zips back to cislunar space, and then turns around and does it again if needed. Crew of something like 20, bored off their asses for months on end. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also considered: an 8-meter Orion that would sit in a silo until WWIII breaks out, at which point it would be lofted to space where it would serve as a command and control platform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Guy&lt;br /&gt;High Overlord&lt;br /&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;Space Ape!&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[avatar]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fluffy bunny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2004&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 1,157&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #4 on Sept 8, 2005, 6:34pm » &lt;br /&gt;Anyone manage to find this one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When are you going to finish that Project Orion book Scott? Is it nearly done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #5 on Sept 8, 2005, 7:32pm » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept 8, 2005, 6:34pm, Good Guy wrote:&lt;br /&gt;Anyone manage to find this one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote:&lt;br /&gt;When are you going to finish that Project Orion book Scott? Is it nearly done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite some time. I started on it before hearing about Dyson's book; but when he and I started comparing notes and whatnot, it was clear that his was going to be the true historically valuable book, so I put it off. Same damned thing happened with my Dyna Soar book... Godwin beat me to the punch on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "bomber" Orion is a small part at a stab at a slow restart. My Orion book, will, if ever completed, be somewhat like the Bomber book, with lots of reconstructions. Lots of 2-D drawings, probably a few 3-D. It'd be nice to get some 3-D animatiosn for a CD (showing stuff like how the breech of the pulse unit gun works... really quite clever and fool-resistant, once I figured it out), but it's far too far away to really consider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #6 on Sept 8, 2005, 7:33pm » &lt;br /&gt;# 3 and #9, actually.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;norden&lt;br /&gt;Space Cadet&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[homepage]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 29&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #7 on Sept 8, 2005, 11:38pm » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/09/ship-designs-compared.html"&gt;Spot the &lt;/a&gt;not quite Orion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;selden&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;Joined: May 2005&lt;br /&gt;Gender: Male&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 112&lt;br /&gt;Location: NY, USA&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #8 on Sept 9, 2005, 10:57am » &lt;br /&gt;norden,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are eight (8) of them. And they're not "not quite." :)&lt;br /&gt;They're taken from the "10M" thread in this forum. Or do you mean one of the others?&lt;br /&gt;« Last Edit: Sept 9, 2005, 10:59am by selden » IP: Logged&lt;br /&gt;Selden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;norden&lt;br /&gt;Space Cadet&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[homepage]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 29&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #9 on Sept 9, 2005, 12:08pm » &lt;br /&gt;Just to the left of your row of Orion drawings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;makikomi&lt;br /&gt;Orion Captain&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 507&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #10 on Sept 9, 2005, 3:22pm » &lt;br /&gt;OBB:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very, very interesting info. How does this relate to the legendary $50K Orion battleship model that Kennedy saw and rejected?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The secret of victory: "Get there fustest with the mostest" Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest, CSA&lt;br /&gt; &lt;hr&gt;norden&lt;br /&gt;Space Cadet&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[homepage]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 29&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #11 on Sept 9, 2005, 4:38pm » &lt;br /&gt;Here's a &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/09/view-from-up-here.html"&gt;peek&lt;/a&gt; at the sights from 100,000 n.m. orbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;hr&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #12 on Sept 9, 2005, 7:25pm » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept 9, 2005, 3:22pm, makikomi wrote:&lt;br /&gt;How does this relate to the legendary $50K Orion battleship model that Kennedy saw and rejected?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very indirectly. I just wrote a bit about that last night in the bomber Orion writeup. The bomber Orion was meant to blow the bejeebers out of ground targets; the battleship was both substantially larger and meant for a different role (blowing the bejeebers out of space-based targets). Sadly, there is less available on the battleship design than on the bomber. I'd give someone else's left nut to get a look at that model, but since it's packed in an unmarked crate right next to the Ark of the Covenant, I doubt I'll get the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;norden&lt;br /&gt;Space Cadet&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[homepage]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 29&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #13 on Sept 9, 2005, 8:18pm » &lt;br /&gt;There's a book cover with a publicity style photo of JFK in front of Rover hardware. So we can hope for a similar shot with the Orion model.&lt;br /&gt; IP: Logged&lt;br /&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #14 on Sept 9, 2005, 9:00pm » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept 9, 2005, 8:18pm, norden wrote:&lt;br /&gt;There's a book cover with a publicity style photo of JFK in front of Rover hardware. So we can hope for a similar shot with the Orion model.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rover wasn't classified like Orion. You might as well hope for a photo of JFK doing the horizontal bop with Marilyn Monroe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;norden&lt;br /&gt;Space Cadet&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[homepage]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 29&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #15 on Sept 9, 2005, 10:05pm » &lt;br /&gt;"JD: I'm a firm advocate of public involvement. If you look back at the Rover/NERVA period it was classified for eighteen years of its existence." - Dr. James Dewar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.nuclearspace.com/A_viewithdewarFINpub02.htm&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;Another angle worth checking is the KGB archives, they dug up a lot of detail about some of our programs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #16 on Sept 9, 2005, 10:20pm » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept 9, 2005, 10:05pm, norden wrote:&lt;br /&gt;If you look back at the Rover/NERVA period it was classified for eighteen years of its existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rover got lots of press, including journal articles and open papers with lots of technical content. Orion, in particular militart Orion, was virtually restricted to mission delta V studies, extremely crude art and slight comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;norden&lt;br /&gt;Space Cadet&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[homepage]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Jun 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 29&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #17 on Sept 9, 2005, 10:25pm » &lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering about the Rover-JFK 'publicity' photo's history, they must have been at least potentially classified. It would be interesting to know what year they became public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;best-on-net&lt;br /&gt;Orion Commodore&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[avatar]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2004&lt;br /&gt;Gender: Male&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 1,051&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #18 on Sept 10, 2005, 5:28am » &lt;br /&gt;Have you got any idea how many segments the solids used to loft the 12 m warship would have had or what would have been used to loft the 8 m one?&lt;br /&gt; IP: Logged&lt;br /&gt;Earth First&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll strip mine the other planets later!&lt;br /&gt;orionblamblam&lt;br /&gt;Orion Crewmember&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;member is offline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joined: Aug 2005&lt;br /&gt;Posts: 85&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Re: Spot the Orion&lt;br /&gt;« Reply #19 on Sept 10, 2005, 8:40am » &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept 10, 2005, 5:28am, best-on-net wrote:&lt;br /&gt;Have you got any idea how many segments the solids used to loft the 12 m warship would have had&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Offhand, no. The text does not describe, and the sketch included is pretty simplistic. However, total Orion *and* total liftoff weights are given, so individual SRB weight can be determiend. I ahve some stuff on Untied Tech and Thiokol 156" studies; workign out the number of segments woudl be possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote:&lt;br /&gt;or what would have been used to loft the 8 m one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"An 8-m nuclear-pulse-propulsion module with a thrust of 530,000 lb and a specific impulse of 2,750 sec could be employed for this mission. By boosting the system with a cluster of seven 120-in. solid propellant motors, a payload of 200,000 lb could be delivered to a 200-n mi circular orbit witha velocity reserve of 60,000 ft/sec."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;United Tech studied may configurations of 120-inch solid clusters (the motors from the Titan III).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-112838964657842026?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/112838964657842026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=112838964657842026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/112838964657842026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/112838964657842026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/lowther-on-usaf-orion-space-battleship.html' title='Lowther on the USAF Orion Space Battleship'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116010407361276630</id><published>2006-10-05T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T20:14:13.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Ten Causes of death</title><content type='html'>Interesting &lt;a href="http://www.infoplease.com/ipa/A0005124.html"&gt;data &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Year Heart Cancer vasc resp Diab flu liver Acc  Suic.Hom.&lt;br /&gt;1960 559   193.9 177.9 12.5 22.5 53.7 13.3 63.1 12.5 5.2&lt;br /&gt;1961 545.3 193.4 173.1 12.6 22.1 43.4 13.3 60.6 12.2 5.2&lt;br /&gt;1962 556.9 193.3 174   14.2 22.6 47.1 13.8 62.9 12.8 5.4&lt;br /&gt;1963 563.4 194.7 173.9 16.5 23.1 55.6 14   64   13   5.4&lt;br /&gt;1964 543.3 193.6 167   16.3 22.5 45.4 14.2 64.1 12.7 5.7&lt;br /&gt;1965 542.5 195.6 166.4 18.3 22.9 46.8 14.9 65.8 13   6.1&lt;br /&gt;1966 541.2 196.5 165.8 19.2 23.6 47.9 15.9 67.6 12.7 6.5&lt;br /&gt;1967 524.7 197.3 159.3 19.2 23.4 42.2 16.3 66.2 12.5 7.5&lt;br /&gt;1968 531   198.8 162.5 20.7 25.3 52.8 16.9 65.6 12.4 8.1&lt;br /&gt;1969 516.8 198.5 155.4 20.9 25.1 47.9 17.1 64.9 12.7 8.3&lt;br /&gt;1970 492.7 198.6 147.7 21.3 24.3 41.7 17.8 62.2 13.1 9&lt;br /&gt;1971 492.9 199.3 147.6 21.8 23.9 38.4 17.8 60.3 13.1 9.8&lt;br /&gt;1972 490.2 200.3 147.3 22.8 23.7 41.3 18   60.2 13.3 10&lt;br /&gt;1973 482   200   145.2 23.6 23   41.2 18.1 59.3 13.1 10.2&lt;br /&gt;1974 458.8 201.5 136.8 23.2 22.1 35.5 17.9 52.7 13.2 10.5&lt;br /&gt;1975 431.2 200.1 123.5 23.7 20.3 34.9 16.7 50.8 13.6 10.2&lt;br /&gt;1976 426.9 202.5 117.4 24.9 19.5 36.8 16.4 48.7 13.2 9.2&lt;br /&gt;1977 413.7 203.5 110.4 24.7 18.2 31   15.8 48.8 13.7 9.2&lt;br /&gt;1978 409.9 204.9 103.7 26.3 18.3 34.5 15.2 48.9 12.9 9.2&lt;br /&gt;1979 401.6 204   97.1  25.5 17.5 26.1 14.8 46.5 12.6 9.9&lt;br /&gt;1980 412.1 207.9 96.4  28.3 18.1 31.4 15.1 46.4 12.2 10.5&lt;br /&gt;1981 397   206.4 89.5  29   17.6 30   14.2 43.4 12.3 10.1&lt;br /&gt;1982 389   208.3 84.2  21   17.2 26.5 13.2 40.1 12.5 9.4&lt;br /&gt;1983 388.9 209.1 81.2  31.6 17.6 29.8 12.8 39.1 12.4 8.4&lt;br /&gt;1984 378.8 210.8 78.7  32.4 17.2 30.6 12.7 39.8 12.6 8.1&lt;br /&gt;1985 375   211.3 76.6  34.5 17.4 34.5 12.3 38.5 12.5 8&lt;br /&gt;1986 365.1 211.5 73.1  34.8 17.2 34.8 11.8 38.6 13 8.6&lt;br /&gt;1987 355.9 211.7 71.6  35   17.4 33.8 11.7 38.2 12.8 8.3&lt;br /&gt;1988 352.5 212.5 70.6  36.5 18   37.3 11.6 38.9 12.5 8.5&lt;br /&gt;1989 332   214.2 66.9  36.6 20.5 35.9 11.6 37.7 12.3 8.8&lt;br /&gt;1990 321.8 216   65.5  37.2 20.7 36.8 11.1 36.3 12.5 9.5&lt;br /&gt;1991 313.8 215.8 63.2  38   20.7 34.9 10.7 34.9 12.3 10.1&lt;br /&gt;1992 306.1 214.3 62    37.9 20.8 33.1 10.5 33.4 12.1 9.6&lt;br /&gt;1993 309.9 214.6 63.1  40.9 22   35.2 10.3 34.5 12.2 9.8&lt;br /&gt;1994 299.7 213.1 63.1  40.6 22.7 33.9 10.2 34.6 12.1 9.4&lt;br /&gt;1995 296.3 211.7 63.9  40.5 23.4 33.8 10   34.9 12   8.6&lt;br /&gt;1996 288.3 208.7 63.2  41   24   33.2 9.8  34.9 11.7 7.8&lt;br /&gt;1997 280.4 205.7 61.8  41.5 24   33.6 9.6  34.8 11.4 7.3&lt;br /&gt;1998 272.4 202.4 59.6  42   24.2 34.6 9.5  35   11.3 6.7&lt;br /&gt;1999 267.8 202.7 61.8  45.8 25.2 23.6 9.7  35.9 10.7 6.2&lt;br /&gt;2000 257.6 199.6 60.9  44.2 25   23.7 9.5  34.9 10.4 5.9&lt;br /&gt;2001 247.8 196   57.9  43.7 25.3 22 9.5    35.7 10.7 7.1&lt;br /&gt;2002 240.4 194   56.3  43.7 25.4 22.7 9.3  35.3 10.6 5.9&lt;br /&gt;2003 232.3 190.1 53.5  43.3 25.3 22 9.3    37.3 10.8 6&lt;br /&gt;2004 217.5 184.6 50    41.8 24.4 20.4 8.8  36.6 10.7 5.6&lt;br /&gt;2032 0     184.6 50    41.8 24.4 20.4 8.8  36.6 10.7 5.6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116010407361276630?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116010407361276630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116010407361276630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116010407361276630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116010407361276630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/top-ten-causes-of-death.html' title='Top Ten Causes of death'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-116010285574177735</id><published>2006-10-05T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T19:47:35.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Icarus 1968</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/icarus2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/icarus2.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/icarus.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/icarus.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MIT professor Paul Sandorff gave his class of graduate students a &lt;a href="http://abob.libs.uga.edu/bobk/ccc/cc071000.html"&gt;task&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;a href="http://www.thespacereview.com/article/175/1"&gt;suppose...Icarus was instead going to hit the Earth&lt;/a&gt;... the &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;force of 500,000 megatons... pulverizing a rock the &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;size of Icarus would require a 1,000 megaton bomb...There was no way it could be done in the short time available....&lt;br /&gt;What the group decided to do was to take six Saturn V rockets then in production, and with only minimal modifications ... The first launch would have to take place by April 1968, only a &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;year away, and five more launches would have to follow at two-week increments...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-116010285574177735?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/116010285574177735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=116010285574177735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116010285574177735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/116010285574177735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/icarus-1968.html' title='Icarus 1968'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-112891328694108726</id><published>2006-10-04T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T20:34:06.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Orion Posts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://quux.org:70/Archives/usenet-a-news/NET.space/82.05.03_utzoo.1620_net.space.txt"&gt;Thrust Into Space&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: 16 Dec 1981 21:50:29-PST&lt;br /&gt;From: decvax!utzoo!henry at Berkeley&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Project Orion and relatives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone is interested in the details of nuclear pulse propulsion,&lt;br /&gt;possibly the best place to start is the lead paper in the August 1979 issue&lt;br /&gt;of the Journal of the British Interplanetary Society:  "Nuclear Pulse&lt;br /&gt;Propulsion:  A historical review of an advanced propulsion concept".  It&lt;br /&gt;discusses everything from the original concepts to the recent schemes&lt;br /&gt;based on beam-ignited microexplosions.  About 1/3 of the 25-page paper&lt;br /&gt;is the best technical (as opposed to project-history) discussion of Orion&lt;br /&gt;I have seen, including an attempt at an analysis of the rather vague vehicle&lt;br /&gt;descriptions in "The Curve of Binding Energy".  The 97-item bibliography&lt;br /&gt;might also be of interest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Re: Reactors banned in NEO? &lt;br /&gt;Date: Tue, 17 Nov 92 14:50:55 -0800&lt;br /&gt;From: gwh@lurnix.COM&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Nuclear bombs are banned, in any form, in space.&lt;br /&gt;The test ban treaty saw to that.  Which theoretically&lt;br /&gt;nails down any "Orion" vehicles... 8-) As if anyone&lt;br /&gt;would build one unless they were desperate enough to&lt;br /&gt;violate a treaty anyway.  Which is likely scienci fiction&lt;br /&gt;not space-tech 8-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-george&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: 05 Dec 1981 2140-PST&lt;br /&gt;From: Ted Anderson &lt;OTA AT S1-A&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Request for references on Project Orion&lt;br /&gt;To:   space at MIT-MC  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MSG: ORION1 1     &lt;br /&gt;LEVIN@MIT-MC 12/05/81 16:25:45 Re: Project Orion&lt;br /&gt; A recent rerun of Cosmos extolled the virtues of Project Orion.&lt;br /&gt;I am interested in finding more information about its performance, design&lt;br /&gt;and failings.  I would appreciate any pointers to review articles or government&lt;br /&gt;reports.  Replies to Levin@MC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: Sun, 1 Mar 92 18:34:44 EST&lt;br /&gt;From: dietz@cs.rochester.edu&lt;br /&gt;To: UC369801@UMCVMB.missouri.edu, jfc@ATHENA.MIT.EDU&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Re: dumb really dumb big booster idea&lt;br /&gt;Cc: space-tech@cs.cmu.edu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Propellant costs are low, but there are structure costs proportional&lt;br /&gt;  to propellant mass and volume and structure is not cheap.  However,&lt;br /&gt;  fuel tanks cost less than engines and it takes probably takes less&lt;br /&gt;  tank mass to support explosives than liquid fuel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I think chemical explosives have less energy than H+O.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TNT is about 4.2 MJ/kg.  H2 + O2 (stoichiometric) is 13.4 MJ/kg.&lt;br /&gt;Even LOX + hydrocarbon is much better than high explosives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An Orion-style rocket with chemical explosives sounds quite&lt;br /&gt;impractical.  The mass overhead for the shock absorbers would be&lt;br /&gt;large, and the launcher for the explosive packages would have to be&lt;br /&gt;much larger than for the nuclear version.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.geocities.com/jim_bowery/bowery.txt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reply-To: mordor!rutgers!trout.nosc.mil!pnet01!jim&lt;br /&gt;Date: Sat, 9 Jul 88 12:55:47 PDT&lt;br /&gt;From: mordor!rutgers!pnet01.cts.com!jim (Jim Bowery)&lt;br /&gt;To: crash!space@angband.s1.gov&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Ron Paul's Libertarian Party Space Policy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dale Amon presented me with a copy of Ron Paul's space policy and I felt&lt;br /&gt;it appropriate to post on the net, especially since Dale claims to have&lt;br /&gt;contributed to this policy and is available for discussion of it on&lt;br /&gt;the network.  Here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;======================================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron Paul's Space Policy&lt;br /&gt;Libertarian Party Presidential Candidate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time after time NASA has developed capabilities at great expense then&lt;br /&gt;discarded them:  a space station larger than the Soviet MIR, a heavy&lt;br /&gt;lift vehicle competitive with the new Soviet Energia, a nuclear engine &lt;br /&gt;twice as efficient as the space shuttle main engine, and a well-tested&lt;br /&gt;Earth-Moon transport system.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;We must also demand a revision or understanding to the 1967 Outer&lt;br /&gt;Space Treaty so individual property rights are recognized.  If&lt;br /&gt;there are no implementing protocols for property rights within a&lt;br /&gt;specified time limit we should withdraw from the treaty entirely.&lt;br /&gt;In any case, we should immediately open a land office and accept&lt;br /&gt;claims of Americans to specific pieces of land, subject to occupancy&lt;br /&gt;within fifteen years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the late 1950's a project called Orion seriously considered using &lt;br /&gt;small nuclear explosions to power a spacecraft.  The lifting capacity&lt;br /&gt;would have been vast, measured in thousands of tons instead of&lt;br /&gt;the miniscule abilities of today's mightiest rockets.  This brute-&lt;br /&gt;force approach was simple enough to be considered feasible 30 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the idea was shelved by the 1963 Nuclear Test Ban Treaty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://groups.google.com/group/alt.history.what-if/browse_frm/thread/3088fa8293ce95d3/b03194979d6ea722?lnk=st&amp;q=utzoo!henry+orion&amp;rnum=4&amp;hl=en#b03194979d6ea722&lt;br /&gt;No, Orion was not "available" in 1951.  In his book *Adventures of a&lt;br /&gt;Mathematician* Stanislaw Ulam says he and C. Everett cooked up the&lt;br /&gt;idea around 1955.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Henry Spencer     Jun 8 1994&lt;br /&gt;Herbert F. York's "Building&lt;br /&gt;Weapons, Talking Peace" (I think that's the title).  He was the unnamed&lt;br /&gt;man mentioned in Dyson's account, the one making the funding decisions.&lt;br /&gt;He basically thought Orion was a *very* long shot, with a lot of major&lt;br /&gt;unsolved problems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-112891328694108726?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/112891328694108726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=112891328694108726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/112891328694108726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/112891328694108726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/early-orion-posts.html' title='Early Orion Posts'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115883884210458758</id><published>2006-10-01T04:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T16:45:03.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How efficient is Orion?</title><content type='html'>The question &lt;a href="http://groups.google.com/groups/search?hl=en&amp;lr=&amp;ie=ISO-8859-1&amp;safe=off&amp;q=orion+%28efficiency+OR+efficient+%29+%28atomic+OR+nuclear+OR+project%29+-java&amp;safe=off&amp;qt_s=Search"&gt;comes  up&lt;/a&gt;. Also on the &lt;a href="orion (efficiency OR efficient ) (atomic OR nuclear OR project) -java"&gt;web&lt;/a&gt;. And &lt;a href="http://blogsearch.google.com/blogsearch?hl=en&amp;q=orion+%28efficiency+OR+efficient+%29+%28atomic+OR+nuclear+OR+project%29+-java&amp;btnG=Search+Blogs"&gt;blogs&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The are four types of efficiency to consider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- Most simply; payload fraction, the part of the launched mission that is useful.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    a) Orion - 40+% is common for easy missions.&lt;br /&gt;      i)  880 Ton test vehicle 34%: 300 tons to 300 mi orbit&lt;br /&gt;      ii) 4000 Ton Interplanetary&lt;br /&gt;          one)   40% 1600 tons to orbit&lt;br /&gt;          two)   30% 1200 tons to Lunar landing&lt;br /&gt;          three) 20% 800 tons to lunar surface and back&lt;br /&gt;          four)  20% 800 tons to mars orbit and back&lt;br /&gt;          five)   5% 200 tons to Venus orbit then Mars orbit then Earth orbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      iii) Advanced Interplanetary 10,000 tons&lt;br /&gt;          one)   61% 6100 tons to orbit&lt;br /&gt;          two)   57% 5700 tons to Lunar landing&lt;br /&gt;          three) 53% 5300 tons to lunar surface and back&lt;br /&gt;          four)  53% 5300 tons to mars orbit and back&lt;br /&gt;          five)  45% 4500 tons to Venus orbit then Mars orbit then Earth orbit.&lt;br /&gt;          six)   13% 1300 tons to Enceladus and back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     iv) 10m 1963 Orion Design from Ga-5009&lt;br /&gt;        300 day Mars mission from earth orbit and back 103,300 ft/sec&lt;br /&gt;        6.4%: 1145 mt gross 72.8 mt payload&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      v) 10m 1963 Orion Design from Ga-5009&lt;br /&gt;         450 day Mars mission  97,355 ft/sec&lt;br /&gt;         8.3%: 73 mt payload 880 mt gross&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     vi) 20m 1963 Orion Design from Ga-5009&lt;br /&gt;         450 day Mars mission  72,850 ft/sec&lt;br /&gt;         26%: 300 mt payload 1141 gross&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    b) Shuttle - Cargo 1.6% (LEO) to 0.8% (ISS) , non cargo missions do a  &lt;br /&gt;      little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    c) Apollo can be broken down into fundamental tasks, that contribute to the&lt;br /&gt;       total payload. Oversimplifed the payload fraction is 25/3000 = .83 %, this&lt;br /&gt;       combination is invalid, but the breakdown&lt;br /&gt;       will be useful when looking at energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         i) Place the 15 metric ton Lunar Module on Luna&lt;br /&gt;         2) Move the 5 metric ton Ascent Stage to Lunar orbit.&lt;br /&gt;         3) Return the 5 metric ton Command Module to earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    d) Viking -  632,970 Gross mass&lt;br /&gt;         i) 2328 kg Orbiter in LMO  : 0.36 %&lt;br /&gt;        ii) 572 kg Lander on Mars      : 0.09 %&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    e) Voyager 1 -  0.114 % 721.9 kg /  632,970 Gross mass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2- ISP - A measure of efficiency developed early in rocket research.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       Project Orion - Compared to other high performance &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/03/isp-and-clock.html"&gt;options &lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3- Energy efficiency - Especially apealing to children of the seventies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    a) Project Orion - A detailed analysis of the&lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/10/orion-models-in-detail-1-880-ton.html"&gt; 880 ton Orbital Orion Test Vehicle&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;       450 KT  yields 4.87 kt. of orbital energy. 1.66 KT of cargo energy. &lt;br /&gt;       Efficiency is therefore .37% percent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    b) Shuttle - The external tank starts with 1.2 Kt of , the SRB's with 3 for  &lt;br /&gt;       a total of 4.2 Kt. The ISS cargo energy is .11 Kt, for an efficiency of 2.5%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    c) Viking - The 572 kg Lander on Mars has .007 Kt more potential energy than&lt;br /&gt;       before launch. The 2 metric ton orbiter has 0.03 Kiltons of extra energy.&lt;br /&gt;       Launch fuel:  530 Tons mixed, energy to be calculated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    d) Voyager 1 - Solar Altitude 14,919,000,000 km, v 17,147 m / sec&lt;br /&gt;       mass 721.9 kg, total potential and kinetic energy added by mission: .19 KT&lt;br /&gt;       Launch fuel:  530 Tons mixed, energy to be calculated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4- Cost efficiency - Most complicated, but most important.&lt;br /&gt;Dyson 8 million ton Super Orion was as efficient as 5 cents per pound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relationships and examples to be calculated...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;Constants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From:               To:                [m/s]             MegaJoules/KG&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earth surface       Low Earth Orbit     9300             43&lt;br /&gt;Low Earth Orbit     GTO                 2500&lt;br /&gt;GTO                 GEO                 1500&lt;br /&gt;GTO                 Earth escape         700&lt;br /&gt;Earth escape        Low Lunar Orbit      700&lt;br /&gt;Earth escape        Mars Transfer Orbit  600&lt;br /&gt;LEO                 Mars surface        4800&lt;br /&gt;LEO                 Solar escape        8700&lt;br /&gt;Lunar Lunar         Lunar surface       1600&lt;br /&gt;Mars surface        Low Mars Orbit      4100&lt;br /&gt;Mars capture orbit  Mars low-energy      900&lt;br /&gt;Low Mars Orbit      Phobos Transfer      900&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115883884210458758?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115883884210458758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115883884210458758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115883884210458758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115883884210458758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/10/how-efficient-is-orion.html' title='How efficient is Orion?'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115927082804120143</id><published>2006-09-26T04:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T04:40:28.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Index of Indexes</title><content type='html'>Series Indexes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    * &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/10/index-to-problems-with-pos.html"&gt;Problems with POS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    * &lt;a href="Thomas S. Power posts"&gt;Thomas S. Power posts&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    * Scaled fireball images&lt;br /&gt;    * Thrust into Space excerpts&lt;br /&gt;    * Ga-5009 excerpts&lt;br /&gt;    * Project Orion excerpts&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115927082804120143?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115927082804120143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115927082804120143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115927082804120143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115927082804120143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/index-of-indexes.html' title='Index of Indexes'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914826851892550</id><published>2006-09-26T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T19:58:56.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>World's largest nuke exposion (Tsar Bomba)</title><content type='html'>Video of the big one, Kruschev ordered this test at the &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/08/another-russian-article-on-soviet.html"&gt;meeting &lt;/a&gt;where Sakharov presented the Pk-5000 Soviet Orion &lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BmQIkDkZ7sk"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BmQIkDkZ7sk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914826851892550?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914826851892550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914826851892550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914826851892550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914826851892550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/worlds-largest-nuke-exposion-tsar.html' title='World&apos;s largest nuke exposion (Tsar Bomba)'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115922653191510146</id><published>2006-09-25T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T16:22:11.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Index</title><content type='html'>S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/11/sagan-on-orion-from-cosmos.html"&gt;Sagan&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115922653191510146?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115922653191510146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115922653191510146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115922653191510146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115922653191510146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/index.html' title='Index'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115915241312116739</id><published>2006-09-24T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-24T19:54:28.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enceladus in the ring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/PIA08321.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/PIA08321.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As seen at &lt;a href="http://www.centauri-dreams.org/?p=830"&gt;Centauri Dreams&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also seen there &lt;a href="http://www.centauri-dreams.org/?p=831"&gt;Orion revisited&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I think Dyson's concerns are tied to out  _current_ lifespan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a link to the new article at&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.damninteresting.com/?p=679"&gt;Damn Intersting&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with mentions of footfall and Bellingham, they migh enjoy &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/10/bellingham-wa-michael-launched-as-in.html"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;map...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115915241312116739?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115915241312116739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115915241312116739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115915241312116739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115915241312116739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/enceladus-in-ring.html' title='Enceladus in the ring'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115914045897783671</id><published>2006-09-24T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-24T16:27:38.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rhysy is working on a new combat Orion video</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/Explosion%20sequence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/Explosion%20sequence.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile here's his &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/07/quality-animation.html"&gt;previous &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/04/rhysys-animation-in-new-venue.html"&gt;Project Orion / NASA / ESA Mars Mission&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;embededed at YouTube.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V1vKMTYa40A"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V1vKMTYa40A" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115914045897783671?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115914045897783671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115914045897783671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914045897783671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115914045897783671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/rhysy-is-working-on-new-combat-orion.html' title='Rhysy is working on a new combat Orion video'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115913919778088074</id><published>2006-09-24T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-24T16:10:09.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Metallica's Orion</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/D_kHFvt5zhk"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/D_kHFvt5zhk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on YouTube&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115913919778088074?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115913919778088074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115913919778088074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115913919778088074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115913919778088074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/metallicas-orion.html' title='Metallica&apos;s Orion'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115805943575538389</id><published>2006-09-12T04:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T04:10:35.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Additional Orion supporters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/57328main_MM_image_feature_151_jw4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/400/57328main_MM_image_feature_151_jw4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On &lt;a href="http://groups.google.com/group/rec.arts.sf.written/browse_frm/thread/beb89f6dccf379bb/19046b4780de8df0?lnk=st&amp;q=orion+(dyson+OR+atomic+OR+nuclear)&amp;rnum=2&amp;hl=en#19046b4780de8df0"&gt;Usenet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and with repespect to the latest NASA naming blunder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 - &lt;a href="http://astroprofspage.com/archives/202"&gt;Astro Prof&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115805943575538389?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115805943575538389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115805943575538389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115805943575538389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115805943575538389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/additional-orion-supporters.html' title='Additional Orion supporters'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-112790928559649268</id><published>2006-09-06T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T16:49:07.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Problems with Problems With The Orion Spacecraft #10:  Fission Free Bombs</title><content type='html'>based on fission free bombs - POS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------&lt;br /&gt;A common misconception, based on poorly sourced Usenet articles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most detailed official document available, from NASA and General Atomic explains in detail how to reduce fallout from fission triggered devices. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------&lt;br /&gt;GA-5009 pg 82/94 - "products could be reduced by factors of 100 to 1,000. Such&lt;br /&gt;improvements would be obtained by reducing the fraction of total yield due&lt;br /&gt;to fission by two to three orders of magnitude, the remaining yield being&lt;br /&gt;contributed by fusion. A further advantage from this approach is the&lt;br /&gt;improvement in fuel economics.&lt;br /&gt;It is also possible to consider the focusing of fission products&lt;br /&gt;upward from the point of explosion, at some sacrifice in ISP . This could&lt;br /&gt;reduce those fission products likely to be trapped in the atmosphere to&lt;br /&gt;approximately 1percent or less of that estimated in the hemispherical expansion&lt;br /&gt;condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is believed that some combination of these suggested techniques&lt;br /&gt;could conceivably result in a reduction of the trappage to only 1/1,000,000th of&lt;br /&gt;current estimates. Considering the longer-term possibilities, if and when&lt;br /&gt;pure fusion devices become a reality, fission products, by definition, will&lt;br /&gt;not be present."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GA-5009 pg 29/41 "With pulse-unit redesign, orders-of-magnitude improvements&lt;br /&gt;in fission-product release (near-fusion or total-fusion energy source)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GA-5009 pg  81/93 "characteristic of the current pulse-unit design is that most&lt;br /&gt;of the fission products and the unburned fuel tend to leave the point of&lt;br /&gt;explosion within a 2 Pi r solid angle and hemispherically away from the&lt;br /&gt;vehicle. Assuming that all of the fission products are ejected in this&lt;br /&gt;manner provides an upper limit to the trapped fission yield per explosion&lt;br /&gt;for any particular vehicle." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Orion"&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Orion&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- An early example of the error-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From: Henry Spencer &lt;henry@zoo.toronto.edu&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newsgroups: sci.space.tech,sci.space.policy,sci.space.history&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Re: Revive Orion?&lt;br /&gt;Date: Sun, 17 Aug 1997 00:00:38 GMT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In article &lt;33f23d90.22448895@Demonews.mindspring.com&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;John Bicketts &lt;sfeikema@mach3ww.com&gt; wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&gt;The Orion project of the 50's and 60's designed a workable spacecraft&lt;br /&gt;&gt;powered by small atom bomb explosions. The ships could be big...&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Anyway, does anyone think they could be revived today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a number of problems, and overall it is not a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one thing, it is illegal.  The treaty is still in effect.  Admittedly,&lt;br /&gt;it would be easier to negotiate changes to it now, with the Cold War gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For another, Orion always had a problem that was never satisfactorily&lt;br /&gt;solved:  its fuel was horribly expensive.  Fission bombs are costly.  Most&lt;br /&gt;of the enthusiasm for Orion (and most of the optimistic commentary about&lt;br /&gt;how little environmental impact ground-launched Orions would have) was&lt;br /&gt;based on the assumption that "fission-free" nuclear bombs -- pure-fusion&lt;br /&gt;bombs triggered by some non-fission means -- would soon be available.&lt;br /&gt;=============&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-112790928559649268?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/112790928559649268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=112790928559649268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/112790928559649268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/112790928559649268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/problems-with-problems-with-orion.html' title='Problems with Problems With The Orion Spacecraft #10:  Fission Free Bombs'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115734225262760834</id><published>2006-09-03T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T17:21:22.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More noise on the wire</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/lock%20orion%20images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/320/lock%20orion%20images.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of NASA &lt;a href="http://news.google.com/news?q=orion+spacecraft&amp;num=100&amp;hl=en&amp;lr=&amp;safe=off&amp;sa=X&amp;oi=news&amp;ct=title"&gt;recent project&lt;/a&gt; ;  &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient-ff&amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;rlz=1B2GGGL_enUS177&amp;q=orion+spacecraft"&gt;Orion spacecraft&lt;/a&gt; is a very popular search term these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst thing is that the abandoned Canuk-Com-Bastard essay &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/10/index-to-problems-with-pos.html"&gt;POS &lt;/a&gt;is the number one result.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115734225262760834?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115734225262760834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115734225262760834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115734225262760834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115734225262760834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/09/more-noise-on-wire.html' title='More noise on the wire'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115707243522105267</id><published>2006-08-31T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T18:00:35.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alpha Centauri Branch: Volume 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/1600/0553587579.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_V56581093_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/320/0553587579.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_V56581093_.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Issac Asimov's &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Foundation-Earth-Isaac-Asimov/dp/0553587579/"&gt;Foundation and Earth&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Including a stop on planet of Alpha's,&lt;br /&gt;and a deserted planet farther out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115707243522105267?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115707243522105267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115707243522105267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115707243522105267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115707243522105267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/08/alpha-centauri-branch-volume-1.html' title='Alpha Centauri Branch: Volume 1'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115275690848164415</id><published>2006-07-12T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T19:48:44.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pink 2001</title><content type='html'>In &lt;a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3191211059169801591"&gt;memorium&lt;/a&gt;: Syd &lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2005/11/motive-3.html"&gt;Barrett&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115275690848164415?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115275690848164415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115275690848164415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115275690848164415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115275690848164415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/07/pink-2001.html' title='Pink 2001'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115275306228363067</id><published>2006-07-12T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T18:29:10.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rocket-boom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.rocketboom.com/vlog/"&gt;Rocketboom&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nasm.si.edu/exhibitions/gal114/SpaceRace/sec300/sec384.htm"&gt;rocket&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;a href="http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/04/rhysys-animation-in-new-venue.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rocket-boom&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://simplethinking.com/home/rapatronic_photographs.htm"&gt;Boom&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://amandaunboomed.blogspot.com/"&gt;Amanda&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://hotair.com/"&gt;Better&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="clear:both;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.solarflarestudios.com/forum/download.php?id=539"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2341/1103/200/18_1120420803.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115275306228363067?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115275306228363067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115275306228363067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115275306228363067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115275306228363067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/07/rocket-boom.html' title='Rocket-boom'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115166577283621073</id><published>2006-06-30T04:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T04:09:32.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Micromegas by Voltaire</title><content type='html'>For the Sirius branch:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a planet revolving around the star Sirius there lived a young man of great intelligence, whose acquaintence I had the honor of making during his recent visit to our little anthill. He was called Micromegas, an appropriate name for great people. He had a stature of eight leagues, or 24,000 geometrical paces of five feet each, or 120,000 statute feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We earthmen have an average stature hardly more than five feet--one pace--so Mr. Micromegas' world must in turn have a circumference 24,000 times greater than our little Earth. Nothing in nature is simpler, more a matter of course. The dominions of certain potentates in Germany or Italy, around which you can walk in half an hour, compared with the empires of Turkey, Russia, or China can give but a faint idea of the vast disparity Nature has set between different orders of being throughout the universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given his Excellency's height, any sculptor or painter would agree his waist should, proportionally, be about 50,000 feet around. His nose being one third the length of his handsome face, and his handsome face being one seventh the height of his handsome body, it follows that the Sirian's nose is some 5,714 statute feet long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His mind rivals the most cultivated among us; he knows many things, some of which are his own inventions. He had not yet reached his 250th year, and was studying, as was customary at his age, at the most famous school on the planet, when he solved 50 propositions of Euclid--18 more than Blaise Pascal, who, after having, according to his sister's account, solved 32 for his own amusement, became a pretty fair geometer, and a very poor metaphysician. When Micromegas was about 450 years old, and already passing out of childhood, he dissected, with the aid of powerful microscopes, many little insects less than 100 feet in diameter; he wrote an interesting book about them, which got him into trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mufti of that country, much given to hair-splitting and very ignorant, found in his work statements they deemed suspicious, offensive, rash, and heretical, and they prosecuted him with bitter animosity. The question in dispute was whether the substantial form of which the fleas of Sirius consisted was of the same nature as that of the snails. Micromegas defended himself spiritedly, and had all the ladies on his side; the trial lasted 220 years. At last the mufti had the book condemned by judges who had never read it, and the author was forbidden to appear at court for 800 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was only moderately afflicted at being banished from a court full of trickery and meanness. He composed a very funny song ridiculing the mufti, which in turn failed to give the latter much annoyance; and he himself set forth on his travels from planet to planet, with a view to improving his mind and soul, as the saying goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who travel only in coaches will doubtless be astonished at the sort of conveyance adopted up there; for we, on our little mound of mud, can imagine nothing beyond our own experience. Our traveler had such a marvelous acquaintance with the laws of gravitation, and all the forces of attraction and repulsion, and made such good use of his knowledge, that, sometimes by means of a sunbeam, and sometimes with the help of a comet, he went from one world to another as a bird hops from bough to bough. He traversed the Milky Way in a short time; and I am obliged to confess that he never saw, beyond the stars with which it is thickly sown, that beautiful celestial empyrean which the illustrious parson, Derham, boasts of having discovered at the end of his telescope. Not that I would for a moment suggest Mr. Derham mistook what he saw; Heaven forbid! But Micromegas was on the spot, he is an accurate observer, and I have no wish to contradict anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micromegas, after plenty of turns and twists, arrived at the planet Saturn. Accustomed though he was to the sight of novelties, when he saw the insignificant size of the globe and its inhabitants, he could not at first refrain from that smile of superiority which sometimes escapes even the wisest; for in truth Saturn is scarcely 900 times greater than Earth, and the citizens of that country are mere dwarfs, only a thousand fathoms high, or thereabout. He laughed a little at first at these people, in much the same way an Italian musician, when he comes to France, derides Lulli's performances. But, being a sensible fellow, the Sirian was soon convinced that a thinking being need not be altogether ridiculous because he is only 6,000 feet high. He was soon on familiar terms with the Saturnians after their astonishment had somewhat subsided. He formed a close friendship with the secretary of the Academy of Saturn, a man of great intelligence, who had not indeed invented anything himself, but excelled at describing the inventions of others, and who could turn a little verse neatly enough or perform an elaborate calculation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, after the Sirian had laid down and the secretary had approached his face to facilitate conversation, Micromegas said, "I must confess that nature is full of variety."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," said the Saturnian; "nature is like a flower-bed, the blossoms of which--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh," said the other, "have done with your flower-bed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She is," resumed the secretary, "like an assembly of blondes and brunettes, whose attire--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, no," said the traveler. "Nature is like nature. Why do you search for comparisons?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To please you," answered the secretary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I do not want to be pleased," rejoined the traveler; "I want to be instructed; begin by telling me how many senses the men in your world possess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We have 72," said the academician; "and we are always complaining that they are so few. Our imagination soars beyond our needs; we find that with our 72 senses, our ring, and our five moons, that our range is too restricted, and, in spite of all our curiosity and the tolerably large number of passions which spring out of our 72 senses, we often feel bored."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can well believe it," said Micromegas; "for on our globe, though we have nearly a thousand senses, there lingers even in us a certain vague desire, an unaccountable restlessness, which warns us that we are of little account in the universe, and that there are beings much more perfect than ourselves. I have traveled; I have seen mortals far below us, and others greatly superior; but I have seen none who have not more desires than real wants, and more wants than they can satisfy. I shall someday, perhaps, reach the country where there is lack of nothing, but hitherto no one has been able to give me any positive information about it." The Saturnian and the Sirian thereupon exhausted themselves with ingenius yet futile conjectures on the subject, but were eventually obliged to return to facts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How long do you people live?" asked the Sirian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah! a very short time," replied the little man of Saturn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So too with us," said the Sirian. "We are always complaining of the shortness of life. This must be a universal law of nature."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alas!" quoth the Saturnian, "none of us live more than 500 annual revolutions of the Sun." (That amounts to about 15,000 years, according to our manner of counting.) "You see how it is our fate to die almost as soon as we are born; our existence is a point, our duration an instant, our globe an atom. Scarcely have we begun to acquire a little information when death arrives before we can put it to use. I myself do not venture to lay any schemes; I feel like a drop of water in a boundless ocean. I am ashamed, especially before you, of the absurd figure I make in this universe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micromegas answered: "Were you not a philosopher, I should fear to distress you by telling you our lives are 700 times as long as yours; but you know too well that when the time comes to give back one's body to the elements, and reanimate nature under another form--the process called death--when that moment of metamorphosis comes, it is precisely the same whether we have lived an eternity or only a day. I have been in countries where life is a thousand times longer than with us, and yet have heard murmurs of its brevity even there. But people of good sense exist everywhere, who know how to make the most of what they have, and to thank the Author of nature. He has spread over this universe abundant variety, together with a kind of admirable uniformity. For example, all thinking beings are different, yet resemble each other in the common endowment of thought and will. Matter is infinitely extended, but has different properties in different worlds. How many of these various properties do you reckon in the matter with which you are acquainted?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you speak," replied the Saturnian, "of those properites without which we believe this globe could not subsist as it is, we count 300 of them, such as extension, impenetrability, mobility, gravitation, divisibility, etc."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Apparently," rejoined the traveler, "this small number is sufficient for the Creator's purpose in constructing this little habitation. I admire His wisdom throughout; I see differences everywhere, but everywhere also a due proportion. Your globe is small; you who inhabit it are small likewise; you have few senses; the matter comprising your world has few properties; all this is the work of Providence. What color is your sun when carefully examined?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"White deeply tinged with yellow," said the Saturnian; "and when we split up one of its rays, it consists of seven colors."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Our sun has a reddish light," said the Sirian, "and we have 39 primary colors. There is not a single sun, among all those I have approached, which resembles any other, just as among yourselves there is not a single face which is not different from all the rest."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several other questions of this kind, he inquired how many modes of existence essentially different were enumerated on Saturn. He was told that not more than 30 were distinguished, as God, space, matter, beings occupying space which feel and think, thinking beings which do not occupy space, those which possess penetrability, others which do not, etc. The Sirian, in whose world they count 300 of them, and who had discovered 3,000 more in the course of his travels, astonished the philosopher of Saturn. At length, after having communicated to each other a little of what they knew, and a great deal of that about which they knew nothing, and after having exercised their reasoning powers during a complete revolution of the Sun, they resolved to make a little exploratory tour together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our two philosophers were ready to embark upon the atmosphere of Saturn, with a fine collection of scientific instruments, when the Saturnian's mistress, who had heard what he was up to, came in tears to remonstrate with him. She was a pretty little brunette, barely 660 fathoms high, but her agreeable manners amply atoned for that deficiency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, cruel one!" she exclaimed, "after having resisted you for 1,500 years, and when I was at last beginning to surrender, and have passed scarcely a hundred years in your arms, to leave me thus, and start on a long journey with a giant of another world! Go, you have no taste for anything but novelty, you have never felt true love; were you a real Saturnian, you would be constant. Whither away so fast? What would you have? Our five moons are less fickle than you, our ring less changeable. So much for the past! I will never love again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The philosopher embraced her, and, in spite of all his philosophy, joined his tears with hers. As to the lady, after having fainted away, she consoled herself with a certain beau who lived in the neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile our two inquirers commenced their travels; they first jumped onto Saturn's ring, which they found pretty flat, as an illustrious inhabitant of our little globe has cleverly conjectured; thence they easily made their way from moon to moon. A comet passed near the last one, so they sprang upon it, along with their instruments. When they had gone about 150,000,000 leagues, they came across the satellites of Jupiter. They landed on Jupiter itself, and remained there a year, during which they learned some very remarkable secrets which would now be appearing in the press, were it not for certain censors who find them too hard to swallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving Jupiter, our explorers crossed a space of about 100,000,000 leagues, and, coasting along the planet Mars, which, as is well known, is five times smaller than our own little globe, they saw two moons. These have escaped the observation of our astronomers. I am well aware that Father Castel will write, and pleasantly enough too, against the existence of these two moons, but I believe those who reason from analogy. Those excellent philosophers know how difficult it would be for Mars, which is so distant from the Sun, to get by with less than two moons. Be that as it may, our friends found the planet so small they were afraid of finding no room there to put up for the night, so they proceeded on their way, like a pair of travelers who disdain a humble village inn, and push on to the nearest town. But the Sirian and his companion soon repented this decision, for they went a long time without finding anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last they perceived a faint glimmer; it came from our Earth, and created compassion in the minds of those who had so lately left Jupiter. However, for fear of repenting a second time, they decided to disembark. They passed over the tail of the comet, and with the aid with an aurora borealis close at hand, alighted on Earth by the northern shore of the Baltic Sea, July 5, 1737.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After resting, they consumed for breakfast a couple of mountains. Then wishing to inspect the countryside, they first went from north to south. Each of the Sirian's ordinary steps was about 30,000 statute feet; the Saturnian dwarf, whose height was only a thousand fathoms, followed panting far behind, for he had to take 20 steps when the other made a single stride. Picture to yourself a tiny little toy spaniel pursuing a captain of the King of Prussia's grenadiers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strangers proceeded quickly, circling the globe in 36 hours; the Sun, indeed, or rather the Earth, makes the same journey in a day; but it is much easier to turn on one's axis than to walk on one's feet. Behold our travelers, then, returned to the same spot from which they had started, after having set eyes upon that sea, to them almost imperceptible, called the Mediterranean, and that other little pond which, under the name of the great Ocean, surrounds this molehill. Therein the dwarf had never sunk much above the knee, while the other had scarcely wetted his ankle. They did all they could, searching here and there, to ascertain whether Earth was inhabited. They stooped, lay down, and groped about in all directions; but their eyes and hands being out of all proportion to the tiny beings who crawl up and down here, they felt not the slightest sensation which could lead them to suspect that we and our fellow creatures have the honor to exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dwarf hastily declared there was not a single creature on this planet. His first reason was that he had not seen one. But Micromegas politely explained that that was not a good argument:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For," said he, "you, with your little eyes, cannot see certain stars of the 50th magnitude which I distinctly discern; do you conclude that those stars have no existence?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But," argued the dwarf, "this globe is so ill-constructed, so irregular, and so ridiculously shaped! All here appears chaotic; look at these little brooks, not one of which goes in a straight line, and these ponds, which are neither round, square, oval, nor of any regular form; and all these little bristles which have rubbed the skin off my feet!"--he alluded to the trees--"Observe too the shape of the globe as a whole, how it is flat at the poles, how it turns around the Sun in a clumsily slanting manner, so that the polar climes are mere wastes. In truth, what chiefly makes me think there is nobody here, is that I cannot suppose any sensible people should wish to occupy such a dwelling."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," said Micromegas, "perhaps the people who inhabit it are not sensible. But there are in fact signs of its not having been made for nothing. Everything here seems irregular, you say; but you judge by the standards of Saturn and Jupiter. Have I not told you that in the course of my travels I have always found variety?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Saturnian had answers to these arguments, and the dispute might never have ended, had not he suddenly spied what seemed to him a small tadpole moving half underwater in the Baltic sea. Actually, it was a whale. He caught it cleverly with his little finger, and placing it on his thumbnail, showed it to the Sirian, who burst out laughing a second time at the extreme minuteness of the inhabitants of our system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Saturnian, now convinced our world was inhabited, immediately concluded that whales were the only creatures to be found here, and, as speculation was his strong point, made conjectures about the origin of so insignificant an atom, the source of its movement, and whether it had ideas and free will. Micromegas drew a magnifying glass from his bundle of instruments, examined the creature patiently, and found no evidence that it had a soul lodged in its body. The two travelers then suspected there were no intelligent beings in this habitation of ours, when at last they noticed something as big as a whale, floating on the Baltic sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know that at that very time, a flock of philosophers was returning from the polar circle, where they had gone to make observations no one had attempted before. The newspapers say their vessel ran aground in the gulf of Bothnia, and that they had great difficulty saving their lives; but we never know in this world the real truth about anything. I will relate honestly what occurred, without adding anything of my own invention--a task which demands no small effort on the part of a historian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Saturnian stretched out his hand, seized with great dexterity the ship which carried those gentlemen, and placed it in the hollow of his hand without squeezing it too much, for fear of crushing it. "Here is an animal quite different from the first," he observed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passengers and crew, who thought a tempest had whirled them aloft, and supposed they had struck upon some kind of rock, began to stir; the sailors seized casks of wine, threw them overboard on the Saturnian's hand, then jumped down themselves, while the geometers seized their quadrants, their sectors, and a pair of Lapland girls, and descended on the Saturnian's fingers. They made such a commotion that at last he felt a tickle--a pole with an iron point being driven a foot deep into his forefinger. He surmised that this prick proceeded somehow from the little animal he was holding; but at first he perceived nothing more than minute specks, which he guessed to be turds, spilling away from the creature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no wish to shock anyone's vanity, but I must beg those who are sensitive about their own importance to consider what I have to say on this subject. Taking the average stature of mankind at five feet, we make no greater figure on Earth than an insect not quite one 200,000th of an inch in height on a bowl 10 feet around. Imagine a being who could hold Earth in his hands and who had organs of sense proportionate to our own--there are in fact many such beings--and consider what they would think of those battles which give the conqueror possession of some village, to be lost again soon after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No doubt some captain of tall grenadiers will read this work and raise the caps of his company a couple of feet; but I warn him, it will be all in vain; he and his men will never be anything but the merest mites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not until both Sirian and Saturnian examined the "turds" with microscopes that they realized the amazing truth. When Leeuwenhoek and Hartsoeker first saw, or thought they saw, the minute speck out of which we are formed, they did not make nearly so surprising a discovery. What pleasure Micromegas and the dwarf felt in watching the movements of those little machines, in examining their feats, in following their operations! How they shouted with joy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see them!" they exclaimed both at once. "Do you not observe how they are carrying burdens, how they stoop down and rise up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they spoke, their hands trembled with delight at beholding objects so unusual, and with fear lest they lose them. The Saturnian, passing from extreme skepticism to utter credulity, fancied he saw them engaged in the work of propagation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah!" said he, "I have surprised nature in the very act."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he was deceived by appearances, an accident to which we are only too liable, whether using microscopes or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Micromegas, a much better observer, perceived clearly that the atoms were speaking to each other, and corrected his companion; but the dwarf, ashamed of having erred on this delicate subject, refused to believe that such creatures could have any means of communicating ideas. He had the gift of tongues as did the Sirian; he did not hear the atoms speak, so he concluded that they did not; besides, how could those imperceptible beings have vocal organs, and what could they have to say? To be able to speak, one must think, or at least make some approach to thought; but if those creatures could think, they must have something equivalent of a soul; and to attribute the equivalent of a soul to these little animals seemed absurd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But," said the Sirian, "you fancied just now they were making love; can they make love without being able to think or utter a word, or even to make themselves understood? Moreover, do you suppose it is more difficult to produce arguments than offspring? Both appear to me equally mysterious operations."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I no longer venture either to believe or deny," said the dwarf; "We must try to examine these insects, then form our conclusions afterward."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well said!" replied Micromegas. Using the equipment he had brought with him, he fabricated a pair of monster speaking-trumpets, like huge funnels, the narrow ends of which he and the Saturnian placed in their ears. As the wide part of the trumpets covered the ship and her crew, the faintest voice was conveyed in such a manner that the philosophers high above them clearly heard the buzzing of our insects down below. In a few hours they succeeded in distinguishing the words, and at last in understanding the French language. The travelers' astonishment increased every instant. They heard mere mites speaking tolerably good sense; such a freak of nature seemed inexplicable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may imagine how impatiently the Sirian and his dwarf longed to converse with the atoms; but the dwarf feared that his voice of thunder, and still more that of Micromegas, might deafen the mites without conveying any meaning. To diminish its strength, they placed in their mouths little toothpicks, the tapering ends of which were brought near the ship. Then the Sirian, holding the dwarf on his knee (who in turn held the vessel with her crew upon his palm), bent his head down and spoke in a low voice, thus at last addressing them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Invisible insects, whom the hand of the Creator has been pleased to produce in the abyss of the infinitely little, I thank Him for having deigned to reveal to me secrets which seemed inscrutable. It may be the courtiers of my country would not condescend to look upon you, but I despise no one, and offer you my protection."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If ever anyone was astonished, it was the people who heard these words, nor could they guess whence they came. The ship's chaplain recited the prayers used in exorcism, the sailors swore, and the philosophers constructed theories; but whatever theories they constructed, they could not divine who was speaking to them. The dwarf of Saturn, who had a softer voice than Micromegas, then told them briefly with what kind of beings they were dealing. He gave an account of their journey from Saturn, and acquainted them with the parts and powers of Mr. Micromegas; and, after having commiserated them for being so small, he asked if they had always been in that pitiful condition little better than annihilation, what they found to do on a globe that appeared to belong to whales, if they were happy, if they increased and multiplied, whether they had souls, and a hundred other questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A philosopher of the party, bolder than the rest, and shocked that the existence of his soul should be questioned, took observations of the speaker with a quadrant from two different stations, and, at the third, spoke: "Do you then suppose sir, because a thousand fathoms extend between your head and feet, that you are--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A thousand fathoms!" cried the dwarf. "Good heavens! How can he know my height? A thousand fathoms! He is not an inch out of his reckoning. What! Has that atom actually measured me? He is a geometer, he knows my size; while I, who can barely see him except through a microscope, am still ignorant of his!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I have taken your measure," said the man of science; "and, based on your relative proportions, I further deduce that your big companion is approximately 120,000 statute feet tall."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thereupon Micromegas uttered, "I see more clearly than ever that we should judge nothing by its apparent importance. O God, Who hast bestowed intelligence upon things which seemed so despicable, the infinitely little is as much Thy concern as the infinitely great; and, if it is possible that there should be living things smaller than these, they may be endowed with minds superior even to those of the magnificent creatures I have seen in the sky, who with one foot could cover this globe upon which I have alighted."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the philosophers agreed he might with perfect confidence believe there actually were intelligent beings much smaller than man. He related, not the fables Virgil told on the subject of bees, but the results of Swammerdam's discoveries, and Reamur's dissections. Finally, he informed him that there are animals which bear the same proportion to bees that bees bear to men, or that the Sirian himself bore to those huge creatures of which he spoke, or that those great creatures themselves bore to others before whom they seemed mere atoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversation grew more and more interesting, and Micromegas spoke as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O intelligent atoms, in whom the Eternal Being has been pleased to manifest His skill and power, you must doubtless taste joys of perfect purity on your globe; for, being encumbered with so little matter, and seeming to be all spirit, you must pass your lives in love and meditation--the true life of spiritual beings. I have nowhere beheld genuine happiness, but here it is to be found, without a doubt."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On hearing these words, all the philosophers shook their heads, and one, more frank than the others, candidly confessed that, with the exception of a small number held in mean estimation among them, all the rest of mankind were a multitude of fools, knaves, and miserable wretches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We have more matter than we need," said he, "the cause of much evil, if evil proceeds from matter; and we have too much mind, if evil proceeds from mind. For instance, at this very moment there are 100,000 fools of our species who wear hats, slaying 100,000 fellow creatures who wear turbans, or being massacred by them, and over almost all of Earth such practices have been going on from time immemorial."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sirian shuddered, and asked what could cause such horrible quarrels between those miserable little creatures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The dispute concerns a lump of clay," said the philosopher, "no bigger than your heel. Not that a single one of those millions of men who get their throats cut has the slightest interest in this clod of earth. The only point in question is whether it shall belong to a certain man who is called Sultan, or another who, I know not why, is called Caesar. Neither has seen, or is ever likely to see, the little corner of ground which is the bone of contention; and hardly one of those animals, who are cutting each other's throats has ever seen the animal for whom they fight so desperately."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah! wretched creatures!" exclaimed the Sirian with indignation; "Can anyone imagine such frantic ferocity! I should like to take two or three steps, and stamp upon the whole swarm of these ridiculous assassins."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No need," answered the philosopher; "they are working hard enough to destroy themselves. I assure you, at the end of 10 years, not a hundredth part of those wretches will be left; even if they had never drawn the sword, famine, fatigue, or intemperance will sweep them almost all away. Besides, it is not they who deserve punishment, but rather those armchair barbarians, who from the privacy of their cabinets, and during the process of digestion, command the massacre of a million men, and afterward ordain a solemn thanksgiving to God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The traveler, moved with compassion for the tiny human race, among whom he found such astonishing contrasts, said to the gentlemen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Since you belong to the small number of wise men, and apparently do not kill anyone for money, tell me, pray, how you occupy yourselves."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We dissect flies," said the same philosopher, "measure distances, calculate numbers, agree upon two or three points we understand, and dispute two or three thousand points of which we know nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The visitors from Sirius and Saturn immediately desired to question these intelligent atoms about the subjects on which they agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How far do you reckon it," said the latter, "from the Dog Star to the great star in Gemini?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all answered together: "32 degrees and a half."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How far do you make it from here to the Moon?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"60 half-diameters of the Earth, in round numbers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is the weight of your air?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He thought to trick them, but they all answered that air weighs about 900 times less than an equal volume of distilled water, and 19,000 times less than pure gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little dwarf from Saturn, astonished at their replies, was now inclined to take for sorcerers the same people he had disbelieved, just a quarter hour ago, could possess souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Micromegas said: "Since you know so well what is outside yourselves, doubtless you know still better what is within you. Tell me what is the nature of your soul, and how you form ideas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The philosophers spoke all at once as before, but this time all their opinons differed. The oldest quoted Aristotle, another pronounced the name of Descartes, this spoke of Malebranche, that of Leibnitz, and another again of Locke. The old Peripatetic said loudly and confidently: "The soul is an actuality and a rationality, in virtue of which it has the power to be what it is; as Aristotle expressly declares on page 633 of the Louvre edition of his works"; and he quoted the passage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand Greek very well," said the giant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Neither do I," said the mite of a philosopher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why, then," inquired the Sirian, "do you quote the man you call Aristotle in that language?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because," replied the sage, "it is right and proper to quote what we do not comprehend in a language we least understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cartesian interposed and said: "The soul is pure spirit, which receives in its mother's womb all metaphysical ideas, and which, on issuing thence, is obliged to go to school as it were, and learn afresh all it knew so well, and will never know again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was hardly worthwhile, then," answered the eight-leagued giant, "for your soul to have been so learned in your mother's womb, if you were to become so ignorant by the time you have a beard on your chin. But what do you mean by spirit?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you ask?" said the philosopher; "I have no idea of its meaning, except that it is said to be independent of matter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, at least, what matter is, I presume?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Perfectly well," replied the man. "For instance, this stone is gray, is of such and such a form, has three dimensions, has weight and divisibility."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very well," said the Sirian, "Now tell me, please, what this thing actually is which appears to you to be divisible, heavy, and of a gray color. You observe certain qualities; but are you acquainted with the intrinsic nature of the thing itself?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then you do not know what matter is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thereupon Mr. Micromegas, addressing his question to another sage, whom the Saturnian held on his thumb, asked him what the soul was, and what it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing at all," said the disciple of Malebranche; "it is God who does everything for me; I see and do everything through Him; He it is who does all without my interference."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then you might just as well not exist," replied the sage of Sirius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you, my friend," he said to a follower of Leibnitz, who was there, "what is your soul?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is," answered he, "a hand which points to the hour while my body chimes, or, if you like, it is the soul which chimes, while my body points to the hour; or to put it another way, my soul is the mirror of the universe, and my body is its frame: that is all clear enough."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little student of Locke was standing near; and when his opinion was at last asked: "I know nothing," said he, "of how I think, but I know I have never thought except on the suggestion of my senses. That there are immaterial and intelligent substances is not what I doubt; but that it is impossible for God to communicate the faculty of thought to matter is what I doubt very strongly. I adore the eternal Power, nor is it my part to limit its exercise; I assert nothing, I content myself with believing that more is possible than people think."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The creature of Sirius smiled; he did not deem the last speaker the least sagacious of the company; and, were it possible, the dwarf of Saturn would have clasped Locke's disciple in his arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But unluckily a little animalcule was there in a square cap, who silenced all the other philosophical mites, saying that he knew the whole secret, that it was all to be found in the "Summa" of St. Thomas Aquinas; he scanned the pair of celestial visitors from top to toe, and maintained that they and all their kind, their suns and stars, were made solely for man's benefit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this speech our two travelers tumbled over each other, choking with that inextinguishable laughter which, according to Homer, is the special privilege of the gods; their shoulders shook, and their bodies heaved up and down, till in those merry convulsions, the ship the Saturnian held on his palm fell into his breeches pocket. These two good people, after a long search, recovered it at last, and duly set to rights all that had been displaced. The Saturnian once more took up the little mites, and Micromegas addressed them again with great kindness, though he was a little disgusted in the bottom of his heart at seeing such infinitely insignificant atoms so puffed up with pride. He promised to give them a rare book of philosophy, written in minute characters, for their special use, telling all that can be known of the ultimate essence of things, and he actually gave them the volume ere his departure. It was carried to Paris and laid before the Academy of Sciences; but when the old secretary came to open it, the pages were blank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah!" said he. "Just as I expected."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12815935-115166577283621073?l=spacebombardment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/feeds/115166577283621073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12815935&amp;postID=115166577283621073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115166577283621073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12815935/posts/default/115166577283621073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spacebombardment.blogspot.com/2006/06/micromegas-by-voltaire.html' title='Micromegas by Voltaire'/><author><name>Norden</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02285756009978574374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12815935.post-115162783833597135</id><published>2006-06-29T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T17:37:18.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE FLYING INN BY GILBERT K. CHESTERTON</title><content type='html'>THE FLYING INN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BY&lt;br /&gt;GILBERT K. CHESTERTON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AUTHOR OF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"MANALIVE," "THE INNOCENCE OF&lt;br /&gt;FATHER BROWN," ETC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEW YORK&lt;br /&gt;JOHN LANE COMPANY&lt;br /&gt;MCMXIV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copyright, 1914, by&lt;br /&gt;JOHN LANE COMPANY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Printing, Jan., 1914&lt;br /&gt;Second Printing, Feb., 1914&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TO&lt;br /&gt;HUGH RIVIČRE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONTENTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER&lt;br /&gt;     I. A SERMON ON INNS&lt;br /&gt;    II. THE END OF OLIVE ISLAND&lt;br /&gt;   III. THE SIGN OF "THE OLD SHIP"&lt;br /&gt;    IV. THE INN FINDS WINGS&lt;br /&gt;     V. THE ASTONISHMENT OF THE AGENT&lt;br /&gt;    VI. THE HOLE IN HEAVEN&lt;br /&gt;   VII. THE SOCIETY OF SIMPLE SOULS&lt;br /&gt;  VIII. VOX POPULI VOX DEI&lt;br /&gt;    IX. THE HIGHER CRITICISM AND MR. HIBBS&lt;br /&gt;     X. THE CHARACTER OF QUOODLE&lt;br /&gt;    XI. VEGETARIANISM IN THE DRAWING-ROOM&lt;br /&gt;   XII. VEGETARIANISM IN THE FOREST&lt;br /&gt;  XIII. THE BATTLE OF THE TUNNEL&lt;br /&gt;   XIV. THE CREATURE THAT MAN FORGETS&lt;br /&gt;    XV. THE SONGS OF THE CAR CLUB&lt;br /&gt;   XVI. THE SEVEN MOODS OF DORIAN&lt;br /&gt;  XVII. THE POET IN PARLIAMENT&lt;br /&gt; XVIII. THE REPUBLIC OF PEACEWAYS&lt;br /&gt;   XIX. THE HOSPITALITY OF THE CAPTAIN&lt;br /&gt;    XX. THE TURK AND THE FUTURISTS&lt;br /&gt;   XXI. THE ROAD TO ROUNDABOUT&lt;br /&gt;  XXII. THE CHEMISTRY OF MR. CROOKE&lt;br /&gt; XXIII. THE MARCH ON IVYWOOD&lt;br /&gt;  XXIV. THE ENIGMAS OF LADY JOAN&lt;br /&gt;   XXV. THE FINDING OF THE SUPERMAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FLYING INN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A SERMON ON INNS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE sea was a pale elfin green and the afternoon had&lt;br /&gt;already felt the fairy touch of evening as a young&lt;br /&gt;woman with dark hair, dressed in a crinkly copper-coloured&lt;br /&gt;sort of dress of the artistic order, was walking&lt;br /&gt;rather listlessly along the parade of Pebblewick-on-Sea,&lt;br /&gt;trailing a parasol and looking out upon the&lt;br /&gt;sea's horizon.  She had a reason for looking instinctively&lt;br /&gt;out at the sea-line; a reason that many young&lt;br /&gt;women have had in the history of the world.  But&lt;br /&gt;there was no sail in sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the beach below the parade were a succession&lt;br /&gt;of small crowds, surrounding the usual orators of the&lt;br /&gt;seaside; whether niggers or socialists, whether clowns&lt;br /&gt;or clergymen.  Here would stand a man doing something&lt;br /&gt;or other with paper boxes; and the holiday&lt;br /&gt;makers would watch him for hours in the hope of&lt;br /&gt;some time knowing what it was that he was doing with&lt;br /&gt;them.  Next to him would be a man in a top hat with&lt;br /&gt;a very big Bible and a very small wife, who stood&lt;br /&gt;silently beside him, while he fought with his clenched&lt;br /&gt;fist against the heresy of Milnian Sublapsarianism so&lt;br /&gt;wide-spread in fashionable watering-places.  It was&lt;br /&gt;not easy to follow him, he was so very much excited;&lt;br /&gt;but every now and then the words "our Sublapsarian&lt;br /&gt;friends" would recur with a kind of wailing sneer.&lt;br /&gt;Next was a young man talking of nobody knew what&lt;br /&gt;(least of all himself), but apparently relying for public&lt;br /&gt;favour mainly on having a ring of carrots round&lt;br /&gt;his hat.  He had more money lying in front of him&lt;br /&gt;than the others.  Next were niggers.  Next was a&lt;br /&gt;children's service conducted by a man with a long neck&lt;br /&gt;who beat time with a little wooden spade.  Farther&lt;br /&gt;along there was an atheist, in a towering rage, who&lt;br /&gt;pointed every now and then at the children's service&lt;br /&gt;and spoke of Nature's fairest things being corrupted&lt;br /&gt;with the secrets of the Spanish Inquisition--by the&lt;br /&gt;man with the little spade, of course.  The atheist (who&lt;br /&gt;wore a red rosette) was very withering to his own&lt;br /&gt;audience as well.  "Hypocrites!" he would say; and&lt;br /&gt;then they would throw him money.  "Dupes and&lt;br /&gt;dastards!" and then they would throw him more money.&lt;br /&gt;But between the atheist and the children's service was&lt;br /&gt;a little owlish man in a red fez, weakly waving a&lt;br /&gt;green gamp umbrella.  His face was brown and wrinkled&lt;br /&gt;like a walnut, his nose was of the sort we associate&lt;br /&gt;with Judaea, his beard was the sort of black wedge&lt;br /&gt;we associate rather with Persia.  The young woman&lt;br /&gt;had never seen him before; he was a new exhibit in the&lt;br /&gt;now familiar museum of cranks and quacks.  The&lt;br /&gt;young woman was one of those people in whom a real&lt;br /&gt;sense of humour is always at issue with a certain&lt;br /&gt;temperamental tendency to boredom or melancholia;&lt;br /&gt;and she lingered a moment, and leaned on the rail to&lt;br /&gt;listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fully four minutes before she could understand&lt;br /&gt;a word the man was saying; he spoke English&lt;br /&gt;with so extraordinary an accent that she supposed at&lt;br /&gt;first that he was talking in his own oriental tongue.&lt;br /&gt;All the noises of that articulation were odd; the most&lt;br /&gt;marked was an extreme prolongation of the short&lt;br /&gt;"u" into "oo"; as in "poo-oot" for "put."  Gradually&lt;br /&gt;the girl got used to the dialect, and began to understand&lt;br /&gt;the words; though some time elapsed even then&lt;br /&gt;before she could form any conjecture of their subject&lt;br /&gt;matter.  Eventually it appeared to her that he had&lt;br /&gt;some fad about English civilisation having been founded&lt;br /&gt;by the Turks; or, perhaps by the Saracens after their&lt;br /&gt;victory in the Crusades.  He also seemed to think that&lt;br /&gt;Englishmen would soon return to this way of thinking;&lt;br /&gt;and seemed to be urging the spread of teetotalism&lt;br /&gt;as an evidence of it.  The girl was the only person&lt;br /&gt;listening to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Loo-ook," he said, wagging a curled brown finger,&lt;br /&gt;"loo-ook at your own inns" (which he pronounced as&lt;br /&gt;"ince").  "Your inns of which you write in your&lt;br /&gt;boo-ooks!  Those inns were not poo-oot up in the beginning&lt;br /&gt;to sell ze alcoholic Christian drink.  They were&lt;br /&gt;put up to sell ze non-alcoholic Islamic drinks.  You can&lt;br /&gt;see this in the names of your inns.  They are eastern&lt;br /&gt;names, Asiatic names.  You have a famous public&lt;br /&gt;house to which your omnibuses go on the pilgrimage.&lt;br /&gt;It is called the Elephant and Castle.  That is not an&lt;br /&gt;English name.  It is an Asiatic name.  You will say&lt;br /&gt;there are castles in England, and I will agree with you.&lt;br /&gt;There is the Windsor Castle.  But where," he cried&lt;br /&gt;sternly, shaking his green umbrella at the girl in an&lt;br /&gt;angry oratorical triumph, "where is the Windsor Elephant?&lt;br /&gt;I have searched all Windsor Park.  No elephants."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl with the dark hair smiled, and began to&lt;br /&gt;think that this man was better than any of the others.&lt;br /&gt;In accordance with the strange system of concurrent&lt;br /&gt;religious endowment which prevails at watering-places,&lt;br /&gt;she dropped a two shilling piece into the round copper&lt;br /&gt;tray beside him.  With honourable and disinterested&lt;br /&gt;eagerness, the old gentleman in the red fez took no&lt;br /&gt;notice of this, but went on warmly, if obscurely, with&lt;br /&gt;his argument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then you have a place of drink in this town which&lt;br /&gt;you call The Bool!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We generally call it The Bull," said the interested&lt;br /&gt;young lady, with a very melodious voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have a place of drink, which you call The&lt;br /&gt;Bool," he reiterated in a sort of abstract fury, "and&lt;br /&gt;surely you see that this is all vary ridiculous!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, no!" said the girl, softly, and in deprecation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why should there be a Bull?" he cried, prolonging&lt;br /&gt;the word in his own way.  "Why should there be&lt;br /&gt;a Bull in connection with a festive locality?  Who&lt;br /&gt;thinks about a Bull in gardens of delight?  What need&lt;br /&gt;is there of a Bull when we watch the tulip-tinted&lt;br /&gt;maidens dance or pour the sparkling sherbert?  You&lt;br /&gt;yourselves, my friends?"  And he looked around&lt;br /&gt;radiantly, as if addressing an enormous mob.  "You&lt;br /&gt;yourselves have a proverb, 'It is not calculated to&lt;br /&gt;promote prosperity to have a Bull in a china shop.'&lt;br /&gt;Equally, my friends, it would not be calculated to&lt;br /&gt;promote prosperity to have a Bull in a wine shop.  All&lt;br /&gt;this is clear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stuck his umbrella upright in the sand and struck&lt;br /&gt;one finger against another, like a man getting to business&lt;br /&gt;at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It iss as clear as the sun at noon," he said solemnly.&lt;br /&gt;"It iss as clear as the sun at noon that this word Bull,&lt;br /&gt;which is devoid of restful and pleasurable associations,&lt;br /&gt;is but the corruption of another word, which possesses&lt;br /&gt;restful and pleasurable associations.  The word is not&lt;br /&gt;Bull; it is the Bul-Bul!"  His voice rose suddenly like&lt;br /&gt;a trumpet and he spread abroad his hands like the fans&lt;br /&gt;of a tropic palm-tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this great effect he was a little more subdued&lt;br /&gt;and leaned gravely on his umbrella.  "You will&lt;br /&gt;find the same trace of Asiatic nomenclature in the&lt;br /&gt;names of all your English inns," he went on.  "Nay,&lt;br /&gt;you will find it, I am almost certain, in all your terms&lt;br /&gt;in any way connected with your revelries and your&lt;br /&gt;reposes.  Why, my good friends, the very name of that&lt;br /&gt;insidious spirit by which you make strong your drinks&lt;br /&gt;is an Arabic word: alcohol.  It is obvious, is it not,&lt;br /&gt;that this is the Arabic article 'Al,' as in Alhambra,&lt;br /&gt;as in Algebra; and we need not pause here to pursue&lt;br /&gt;its many appearances in connection with your festive&lt;br /&gt;institutions, as in your Alsop's beer, your Ally Sloper,&lt;br /&gt;and your partly joyous institution of the Albert&lt;br /&gt;Memorial.  Above all, in your greatest feasting day--your&lt;br /&gt;Christmas day--which you so erroneously suppose to&lt;br /&gt;be connected with your religion, what do you say then?&lt;br /&gt;Do you say the names of the Christian Nations?  Do&lt;br /&gt;you say, 'I will have a little France.  I will have a&lt;br /&gt;little Ireland.  I will have a little Scotland.  I will have&lt;br /&gt;a little Spain?'  No--o."  And the noise of the negative&lt;br /&gt;seemed to waggle as does the bleating of a sheep.&lt;br /&gt;"You say, 'I will have a little Turkey,' which is your&lt;br /&gt;name for the Country of the Servant of the Prophet!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And once more he stretched out his arms sublimely&lt;br /&gt;to the east and west and appealed to earth and heaven.&lt;br /&gt;The young lady, looking at the sea-green horizon with&lt;br /&gt;a smile, clapped her grey gloved hands softly together&lt;br /&gt;as if at a peroration.  But the little old man with the&lt;br /&gt;fez was far from exhausted yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In reply to this you will object--" he began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O no, no," breathed the young lady in a sort of&lt;br /&gt;dreamy rapture.  "I don't object.  I don't object the&lt;br /&gt;littlest bit!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In reply to this you will object--" proceeded her&lt;br /&gt;preceptor, "that some inns are actually named after the&lt;br /&gt;symbols of your national superstitions.  You will hasten&lt;br /&gt;to point out to me that the Golden Cross is situated&lt;br /&gt;opposite Charing Cross, and you will expatiate at&lt;br /&gt;length on King's Cross, Gerrard's Cross and the many&lt;br /&gt;crosses that are to be found in or near London.  But&lt;br /&gt;you must not forget," and here he wagged his green&lt;br /&gt;umbrella roguishly at the girl, as if he was going to&lt;br /&gt;poke her with it, "none of you, my friends, must&lt;br /&gt;forget what a large number of Crescents there are&lt;br /&gt;in London!  Denmark Crescent; Mornington Crescent!&lt;br /&gt;St. Mark's Crescent!  St. George's Crescent!&lt;br /&gt;Grosvenor Crescent!  Regent's Park Crescent!  Nay,&lt;br /&gt;Royal Crescent!  And why should we forget Pelham&lt;br /&gt;Crescent?  Why, indeed?  Everywhere, I say, homage&lt;br /&gt;paid to the holy symbol of the religion of the Prophet!&lt;br /&gt;Compare with this network and pattern of crescents,&lt;br /&gt;this city almost consisting of crescents, the meagre&lt;br /&gt;array of crosses, which remain to attest the ephemeral&lt;br /&gt;superstition to which you were, for one weak moment,&lt;br /&gt;inclined."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowds on the beach were rapidly thinning as&lt;br /&gt;tea-time drew nearer.  The west grew clearer and&lt;br /&gt;clearer with the evening, till the sunshine seemed to&lt;br /&gt;have got behind the pale green sea and be shining&lt;br /&gt;through, as through a wall of thin green glass.  The&lt;br /&gt;very transparency of sky and sea might have to this&lt;br /&gt;girl, for whom the sea was the romance and the tragedy,&lt;br /&gt;the hint of a sort of radiant hopelessness.  The&lt;br /&gt;flood made of a million emeralds was ebbing as slowly&lt;br /&gt;as the sun was sinking: but the river of human nonsense&lt;br /&gt;flowed on for ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will not for one moment maintain," said the old&lt;br /&gt;gentleman, "that there are no difficulties in my case;&lt;br /&gt;or that all the examples are as obviously true as those&lt;br /&gt;that I have just demonstrated.  No-o.  It is obvious,&lt;br /&gt;let us say, that the 'Saracen's Head' is a corruption of&lt;br /&gt;the historic truth 'The Saracen is Ahead'--I am far&lt;br /&gt;from saying it is equally obvious that the 'Green Dragon'&lt;br /&gt;was originally 'the Agreeing Dragoman'; though&lt;br /&gt;I hope to prove in my book that it is so.  I will only&lt;br /&gt;say here that it is su-urely more probable that one&lt;br /&gt;poo-ooting himself forward to attract the wayfarer&lt;br /&gt;in the desert, would compare himself to a friendly&lt;br /&gt;and persuadable guide or courier, rather than to a&lt;br /&gt;voracious monster.  Sometimes the true origin is very&lt;br /&gt;hard to trace; as in the inn that commemorates our&lt;br /&gt;great Moslem Warrior, Amir Ali Ben Bhoze, whom&lt;br /&gt;you have so quaintly abbreviated into Admiral Benbow.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it is even more difficult for the seeker&lt;br /&gt;after truth.  There is a place of drink near to here&lt;br /&gt;called 'The Old Ship'--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eyes of the girl remained on the ring of the&lt;br /&gt;horizon as rigid as the ring itself; but her whole face&lt;br /&gt;had coloured and altered.  The sands were almost&lt;br /&gt;emptied by now: the atheist was as non-existent as&lt;br /&gt;his God; and those who had hoped to know what was&lt;br /&gt;being done to the paper boxes had gone away to their&lt;br /&gt;tea without knowing it.  But the young woman still&lt;br /&gt;leaned on the railing.  Her face was suddenly alive;&lt;br /&gt;and it looked as if her body could not move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It shood be admitted--" bleated the old man with&lt;br /&gt;the green umbrella, "that there is no literally&lt;br /&gt;self-evident trace of the Asiatic nomenclature in the words&lt;br /&gt;'the old ship.'  But even here the see-eeker after Truth&lt;br /&gt;can poot himself in touch with facts.  I questioned&lt;br /&gt;the proprietor of 'The Old Ship' who is, according to&lt;br /&gt;such notes as I have kept, a Mr. Pumph."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl's lip trembled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Poor old Hump!" she said.  "Why, I'd forgotten&lt;br /&gt;about him.  He must be very nearly as worried as I&lt;br /&gt;am!  I hope this man won't be too silly about this!&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather it weren't about this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And Mr. Pumph to-old me the inn was named by&lt;br /&gt;a vary intimate friend of his, an Irishman who had&lt;br /&gt;been a Captain in the Britannic Royal Navy, but had&lt;br /&gt;resigned his po-ost in anger at the treatment of&lt;br /&gt;Ireland.  Though quitting the service, he retained joost&lt;br /&gt;enough of the superstition of your western sailors, to&lt;br /&gt;wish his friend's inn to be named after his old ship.&lt;br /&gt;But as the name of the ship was 'The United Kingdom--'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His female pupil, if she could not exactly be said&lt;br /&gt;to be sitting at his feet, was undoubtedly leaning out&lt;br /&gt;very eagerly above his head.  Amid the solitude of&lt;br /&gt;the sands she called out in a loud and clear voice, "Can&lt;br /&gt;you tell me the Captain's name?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old gentleman jumped, blinked and stared like&lt;br /&gt;a startled owl.  Having been talking for hours as if&lt;br /&gt;he had an audience of thousands, he seemed suddenly&lt;br /&gt;very much embarrassed to find that he had even an&lt;br /&gt;audience of one.  By this time they seemed to be almost&lt;br /&gt;the only human creatures along the shore; almost&lt;br /&gt;the only living creatures, except the seagulls.  The sun,&lt;br /&gt;in dropping finally, seemed to have broken as a blood&lt;br /&gt;orange might break; and lines of blood-red light were&lt;br /&gt;spilt along the split, low, level skies.  This abrupt and&lt;br /&gt;belated brilliance took all the colour out of the man's&lt;br /&gt;red cap and green umbrella; but his dark figure, distinct&lt;br /&gt;against the sea and the sunset, remained the same,&lt;br /&gt;save that it was more agitated than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The name," he said, "the Captain's name.  I--I&lt;br /&gt;understood it was Dalroy.  But what I wish to indicate,&lt;br /&gt;what I wish to expound, is that here again the&lt;br /&gt;seeker after truth can find the connection of his ideas.&lt;br /&gt;It was explained to me by Mr. Pumph that he was&lt;br /&gt;rearranging the place of festivity, in no inconsiderable&lt;br /&gt;proportion because of the anticipated return of&lt;br /&gt;the Captain in question, who had, as it appeared, taken&lt;br /&gt;service in some not very large Navy, but had left it&lt;br /&gt;and was coming home.  Now, mark all of you, my&lt;br /&gt;friends," he said to the seagulls "that even here the&lt;br /&gt;chain of logic holds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said it to the seagulls because the young lady,&lt;br /&gt;after staring at him with starry eyes for a moment and&lt;br /&gt;leaning heavily on the railing, had turned her back&lt;br /&gt;and disappeared rapidly into the twilight.  After her&lt;br /&gt;hasty steps had fallen silent there was no other noise&lt;br /&gt;than the faint but powerful purring of the now distant&lt;br /&gt;sea, the occasional shriek of a sea-bird, and the&lt;br /&gt;continuous sound of a soliloquy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mark, all of you," continued the man flourishing&lt;br /&gt;his green umbrella so furiously that it almost flew&lt;br /&gt;open like a green flag unfurled, and then striking it&lt;br /&gt;deep in the sand, in the sand in which his fighting&lt;br /&gt;fathers had so often struck their tents, "mark all of&lt;br /&gt;you this marvellous fact!  That when, being for a&lt;br /&gt;time, for a time, astonished-embarrassed--brought&lt;br /&gt;up as you would say short--by the absence of any&lt;br /&gt;absolute evidence of Eastern influence in the phrase&lt;br /&gt;'the old ship,' I inquired from what country the Captain&lt;br /&gt;was returning, Mr. Pumph said to me in solemnity,&lt;br /&gt;'From Turkey.'  From Turkey!  From the nearest&lt;br /&gt;country of the Religion!  I know men say it is not&lt;br /&gt;our country; that no man knows where we come from,&lt;br /&gt;of what is our country.  What does it matter where&lt;br /&gt;we come from if we carry a message from Paradise?&lt;br /&gt;With a great galloping of horses we carry it, and have&lt;br /&gt;no time to stop in places.  But what we bring is the&lt;br /&gt;only creed that has regarded what you will call in&lt;br /&gt;your great words the virginity of a man's reason, that&lt;br /&gt;has put no man higher than a prophet, and has&lt;br /&gt;respected the solitude of God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And again he spread his arms out, as if addressing&lt;br /&gt;a mass meeting of millions, all alone on the dark&lt;br /&gt;seashore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE END OF OLIVE ISLAND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE great sea-dragon of the changing colours that&lt;br /&gt;wriggles round the world like a chameleon, was pale&lt;br /&gt;green as it washed on Pebblewick, but strong blue&lt;br /&gt;where it broke on the Ionian Isles.  One of the&lt;br /&gt;innumerable islets, hardly more than a flat white rock&lt;br /&gt;in the azure expanse, was celebrated as the Isle of&lt;br /&gt;Olives; not because it was rich in such vegetation,&lt;br /&gt;but because, by some freak of soil or climate, two or&lt;br /&gt;three little olives grew there to an unparalleled height.&lt;br /&gt;Even in the full heat of the South it is very unusual&lt;br /&gt;for an olive tree to grow any taller than a small pear&lt;br /&gt;tree; but the three olives that stood up as signals on this&lt;br /&gt;sterile place might well be mistaken, except for the&lt;br /&gt;shape, for moderate sized pines or larches of the north.&lt;br /&gt;It was also connected with some ancient Greek legend&lt;br /&gt;about Pallas the patroness of the olive; for all that&lt;br /&gt;sea was alive with the first fairyland of Hellas; and&lt;br /&gt;from the platform of marble under the olive trees&lt;br /&gt;could be seen the grey outline of Ithaca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the island and under the trees was a table set&lt;br /&gt;in the open air and covered with papers and inkstands.&lt;br /&gt;At the table were sitting four men, two in uniform&lt;br /&gt;and two in plain black clothes.  Aides-de-camps,&lt;br /&gt;equerries and such persons stood in a group in the&lt;br /&gt;background; and behind them a string of two or three&lt;br /&gt;silent battle-ships lay along the sea.  For peace was&lt;br /&gt;being given to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There had just come to an end the long agony of&lt;br /&gt;one of the many unsuccessful efforts to break the&lt;br /&gt;strength of Turkey and save the small Christian tribes.&lt;br /&gt;There had been many other such meetings in the later&lt;br /&gt;phases of the matter as, one after another, the smaller&lt;br /&gt;nations gave up the struggle, or the greater nations&lt;br /&gt;came in to coerce them.  But the interested parties&lt;br /&gt;had now dwindled to these four.  For the Powers of&lt;br /&gt;Europe being entirely agreed on the necessity for&lt;br /&gt;peace on a Turkish basis, were content to leave the&lt;br /&gt;last negotiations to England and Germany, who could&lt;br /&gt;be trusted to enforce it; there was a representative of&lt;br /&gt;the Sultan, of course; and there was a representative&lt;br /&gt;of the only enemy of the Sultan who had not hitherto&lt;br /&gt;come to terms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one tiny power had alone carried on the war&lt;br /&gt;month after month, and with a tenacity and temporary&lt;br /&gt;success that was a new nine-days marvel every&lt;br /&gt;morning.  An obscure and scarcely recognized prince&lt;br /&gt;calling himself the King of Ithaca had filled the&lt;br /&gt;Eastern Mediterranean with exploits that were not&lt;br /&gt;unworthy of the audacious parallel that the name of his&lt;br /&gt;island suggested.  Poets could not help asking if it&lt;br /&gt;were Odysseus come again; patriotic Greeks, even if&lt;br /&gt;they themselves had been forced to lay down their&lt;br /&gt;arms, could not help feeling curious as to what Greek&lt;br /&gt;race or name was boasted by the new and heroic royal&lt;br /&gt;house.  It was, therefore, with some amusement that&lt;br /&gt;the world at last discovered that the descendant of&lt;br /&gt;Ulysses was a cheeky Irish adventurer named Patrick&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy; who had once been in the English Navy, had&lt;br /&gt;got into a quarrel through his Fenian sympathies and&lt;br /&gt;resigned his commission.  Since then he had seen&lt;br /&gt;many adventures in many uniforms; and always got&lt;br /&gt;himself or some one else into hot water with an&lt;br /&gt;extraordinary mixture of cynicism and quixotry.  In&lt;br /&gt;his fantastic little kingdom, of course, he had been his&lt;br /&gt;own General, his own Admiral, his own Foreign&lt;br /&gt;Secretary and his own Ambassador; but he was always&lt;br /&gt;careful to follow the wishes of his people in the&lt;br /&gt;essentials of peace and war; and it was at their direction&lt;br /&gt;that he had come to lay down his sword at last.  Besides&lt;br /&gt;his professional skill, he was chiefly famous for&lt;br /&gt;his enormous bodily strength and stature.  It is the&lt;br /&gt;custom in newspapers nowadays to say that mere&lt;br /&gt;barbaric muscular power is valueless in modern military&lt;br /&gt;actions, but this view may be as much exaggerated as&lt;br /&gt;its opposite.  In such wars as these of the Near East,&lt;br /&gt;where whole populations are slightly armed and&lt;br /&gt;personal assault is common, a leader who can defend his&lt;br /&gt;head often has a real advantage; and it is not true,&lt;br /&gt;even in a general way, that strength is of no use.  This&lt;br /&gt;was admitted by Lord Ivywood, the English Minister,&lt;br /&gt;who was pointing out in detail to King Patrick the&lt;br /&gt;hopeless superiority of the light pattern of Turkish&lt;br /&gt;field gun; and the King of Ithaca, remarking that he&lt;br /&gt;was quite convinced, said he would take it with him,&lt;br /&gt;and ran away with it under his arm.  It would be&lt;br /&gt;conceded by the greatest of the Turkish warriors, the&lt;br /&gt;terrifying Oman Pasha, equally famous for his courage&lt;br /&gt;in war and his cruelty in peace; but who carried on&lt;br /&gt;his brow a scar from Patrick's sword, taken after three&lt;br /&gt;hours mortal combat--and taken without spite or&lt;br /&gt;shame, be it said, for the Turk is always at his best&lt;br /&gt;in that game.  Nor would the quality be doubted by&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Hart, a financial friend of the German Minister,&lt;br /&gt;whom Patrick Dalroy, after asking him which of his&lt;br /&gt;front windows he would prefer to be thrown into,&lt;br /&gt;threw into his bedroom window on the first floor with&lt;br /&gt;so considerate an exactitude that he alighted on the&lt;br /&gt;bed, where he was in a position to receive any medical&lt;br /&gt;attention.  But, when all is said, one muscular Irish&lt;br /&gt;gentleman on an island cannot fight all Europe for&lt;br /&gt;ever, and he came, with a kind of gloomy good&lt;br /&gt;humour, to offer the terms now dictated to him by his&lt;br /&gt;adopted country.  He could not even knock all the&lt;br /&gt;diplomatists down (for which he possessed both the&lt;br /&gt;power and the inclination), for he realised, with the&lt;br /&gt;juster part of his mind, that they were only obeying&lt;br /&gt;orders, as he was.  So he sat heavily and sleepily at&lt;br /&gt;the little table, in the green and white uniform of the&lt;br /&gt;Navy of Ithaca (invented by himself); a big bull of&lt;br /&gt;a man, monstrously young for his size, with a bull neck&lt;br /&gt;and two blue bull's eyes for eyes, and red hair rising&lt;br /&gt;so steadily off his scalp that it looked as if his head had&lt;br /&gt;caught fire: as some said it had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most dominant person present was the great&lt;br /&gt;Oman Pasha himself, with his strong face starved by&lt;br /&gt;the asceticism of war, his hair and mustache seeming&lt;br /&gt;rather blasted with lightning than blanched with&lt;br /&gt;age; a red fez on his head, and between the red fez&lt;br /&gt;and mustache, a scar at which the King of Ithaca did&lt;br /&gt;not look.  His eyes had an awful lack of expression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood, the English Minister, was probably&lt;br /&gt;the handsomest man in England, save that he was&lt;br /&gt;almost colourless both in hair and complexion.&lt;br /&gt;Against that blue marble sea he might almost have&lt;br /&gt;been one of its old marble statues that are faultless&lt;br /&gt;in line but show nothing but shades of grey or white.&lt;br /&gt;It seemed a mere matter of the luck of lighting whether&lt;br /&gt;his hair looked dull silver or pale brown; and his&lt;br /&gt;splendid mask never changed in colour or expression.&lt;br /&gt;He was one of the last of the old Parliamentary&lt;br /&gt;orators; and yet he was probably a comparatively&lt;br /&gt;young man; he could make anything he had to&lt;br /&gt;mention blossom into verbal beauty; yet his face&lt;br /&gt;remained dead while his lips were alive.  He had little&lt;br /&gt;old-fashioned ways, as out of old Parliaments; for&lt;br /&gt;instance, he would always stand up, as in a Senate, to&lt;br /&gt;speak to those three other men, alone on a rock in&lt;br /&gt;the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all this he perhaps appeared more personal in&lt;br /&gt;contrast to the man sitting next to him, who never&lt;br /&gt;spoke at all but whose face seemed to speak for him.&lt;br /&gt;He was Dr. Gluck, the German Minister, whose&lt;br /&gt;face had nothing German about it; neither the German&lt;br /&gt;vision nor the German sleep.  His face was as vivid&lt;br /&gt;as a highly coloured photograph and altered like a&lt;br /&gt;cinema: but his scarlet lips never moved in speech.&lt;br /&gt;His almond eyes seemed to shine with all the shifting&lt;br /&gt;fires of the opal; his small, curled black mustache&lt;br /&gt;seemed sometimes almost to hoist itself afresh, like a&lt;br /&gt;live, black snake; but there came from him no sound.&lt;br /&gt;He put a paper in front of Lord Ivywood.  Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood took a pair of eyeglasses to read it, and looked&lt;br /&gt;ten years older by the act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was merely a statement of agenda; of the few&lt;br /&gt;last things to be settled at this last conference.  The&lt;br /&gt;first item ran:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Ithacan Ambassador asks that the girls taken&lt;br /&gt;to harems after the capture of Pylos be restored to&lt;br /&gt;their families.  This cannot be granted."  Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood rose.  The mere beauty of his voice startled&lt;br /&gt;everyone who had not heard it before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Your Excellencies and gentlemen," he said, "a&lt;br /&gt;statement to whose policy I by no means assent, but&lt;br /&gt;to whose historic status I could not conceivably&lt;br /&gt;aspire, has familiarised you with a phrase about peace&lt;br /&gt;with honour.  But when we have to celebrate a peace&lt;br /&gt;between such historic soldiers as Oman Pasha and&lt;br /&gt;His Majesty the King of Ithaca, I think we may say&lt;br /&gt;that it is peace with glory."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He paused for half an instant; yet even the silence&lt;br /&gt;of sea and rock seemed full of multitudinous applause,&lt;br /&gt;so perfectly had the words been spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think there is but one thought among us, whatever&lt;br /&gt;our many just objections through these long and&lt;br /&gt;harassing months of negotiations--I think there is&lt;br /&gt;but one thought now.  That the peace may be as full&lt;br /&gt;as the war--that the peace may be as fearless as the&lt;br /&gt;war."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once more he paused an instant; and felt a phantom&lt;br /&gt;clapping, as it were, not from the hands but the&lt;br /&gt;heads of the men.  He went on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If we are to leave off fighting, we may surely leave&lt;br /&gt;off haggling.  A statute of limitations or, if you will,&lt;br /&gt;an amnesty, is surely proper when so sublime a peace&lt;br /&gt;seals so sublime a struggle.  And if there be anything&lt;br /&gt;in which an old diplomatist may advise you, I would&lt;br /&gt;most strongly say this: that there should be no new&lt;br /&gt;disturbance of whatever amicable or domestic ties have&lt;br /&gt;been formed during this disturbed time.  I will admit&lt;br /&gt;I am sufficiently old-fashioned to think any interference&lt;br /&gt;with the interior life of the family a precedent&lt;br /&gt;of no little peril.  Nor will I be so illiberal as not to&lt;br /&gt;extend to the ancient customs of Islam what I would&lt;br /&gt;extend to the ancient customs of Christianity.  A&lt;br /&gt;suggestion has been brought before us that we should&lt;br /&gt;enter into a renewed war of recrimination as to whether&lt;br /&gt;certain women have left their homes with or without&lt;br /&gt;their own consent.  I can conceive no controversy&lt;br /&gt;more perilous to begin or more impossible to conclude.&lt;br /&gt;I will venture to say that I express all your thoughts,&lt;br /&gt;when I say that, whatever wrongs may have been&lt;br /&gt;wrought on either side, the homes, the marriages, the&lt;br /&gt;family arrangements of this great Ottoman Empire,&lt;br /&gt;shall remain as they are today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one moved except Patrick Dalroy, who put his&lt;br /&gt;hand on his sword-hilt for a moment and looked at&lt;br /&gt;them all with bursting eyes; then his hand fell and he&lt;br /&gt;laughed out loud and sudden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood took no notice, but picked up the&lt;br /&gt;agenda paper again, and again fitted on the glasses&lt;br /&gt;that made him look older.  He read the second item--needless to say, not aloud.  The German Minister with&lt;br /&gt;the far from German face, had written this note for&lt;br /&gt;him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Both Coote and the Bernsteins insist there must&lt;br /&gt;be Chinese for the marble.  Greeks cannot be trusted&lt;br /&gt;in the quarries just now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But while," continued Lord Ivywood, "we desire&lt;br /&gt;these fundamental institutions, such as the Moslem&lt;br /&gt;family, to remain as they are even at this moment, we&lt;br /&gt;do not assent to social stagnation.  Nor do we say&lt;br /&gt;for one moment that the great tradition of Islam is&lt;br /&gt;capable alone of sustaining the necessities of the Near&lt;br /&gt;East.  But I would seriously ask your Excellencies,&lt;br /&gt;why should we be so vain as to suppose that the only&lt;br /&gt;cure for the Near East is of necessity the Near West?&lt;br /&gt;If new ideas are needed, if new blood is needed, would&lt;br /&gt;it not be more natural to appeal to those most living,&lt;br /&gt;those most laborious civilisations which form the vast&lt;br /&gt;reserve of the Orient?  Asia in Europe, if my friend&lt;br /&gt;Oman Pasha will allow me the criticism, has hitherto&lt;br /&gt;been Asia in arms.  May we not yet see Asia in&lt;br /&gt;Europe and yet Asia in peace?  These at least are the&lt;br /&gt;reasons which lead me to consent to a scheme of&lt;br /&gt;colonisation."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Dalroy sprang erect, pulling himself out of&lt;br /&gt;his seat by clutching at an olive-branch above his head.&lt;br /&gt;He steadied himself by putting one hand on the trunk&lt;br /&gt;of the tree, and simply stared at them all.  There fell&lt;br /&gt;on him the huge helplessness of mere physical power.&lt;br /&gt;He could throw them into the sea; but what good&lt;br /&gt;would that do?  More men on the wrong side would be&lt;br /&gt;accredited to the diplomatic campaign; and the only&lt;br /&gt;man on the right side would be discredited for&lt;br /&gt;anything.  He shook the branching olive tree above him&lt;br /&gt;in his fury.  But he did not for one moment disturb&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood, who had just read the third item on&lt;br /&gt;his private agenda ("Oman Pasha insists on the&lt;br /&gt;destruction of the vineyards") and was by this time&lt;br /&gt;engaged in a peroration which afterwards became&lt;br /&gt;famous and may be found in many rhetorical text books&lt;br /&gt;and primers.  He was well into the middle of it before&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy's rage and wonder allowed him to follow the&lt;br /&gt;words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;". . . do we indeed owe nothing," the diplomatist&lt;br /&gt;was saying "to that gesture of high refusal in&lt;br /&gt;which so many centuries ago the great Arabian mystic&lt;br /&gt;put the wine-cup from his lips?  Do we owe nothing&lt;br /&gt;to the long vigil of a valiant race, the long fast by&lt;br /&gt;which they have testified against the venomous beauty&lt;br /&gt;of the Vine?  Ours is an age when men come more&lt;br /&gt;and more to see that the creeds hold treasures for each&lt;br /&gt;other, that each religion has a secret for its neighbour,&lt;br /&gt;that faith unto faith uttereth speech, and church unto&lt;br /&gt;church showeth knowledge.  If it be true, and I claim&lt;br /&gt;again the indulgence of Oman Pasha when I say I&lt;br /&gt;think it is true, that we of the West have brought some&lt;br /&gt;light to Islam in the matter of the preciousness of&lt;br /&gt;peace and of civil order, may we not say that Islam&lt;br /&gt;in answer shall give us peace in a thousand homes,&lt;br /&gt;and encourage us to cut down that curse that has&lt;br /&gt;done so much to thwart and madden the virtues of&lt;br /&gt;Western Christendom.  Already in my own country&lt;br /&gt;the orgies that made horrible the nights of the noblest&lt;br /&gt;families are no more.  Already the legislature takes&lt;br /&gt;more and more sweeping action to deliver the populace&lt;br /&gt;from the bondage of the all-destroying drug.  Surely&lt;br /&gt;the prophet of Mecca is reaping his harvest; the&lt;br /&gt;cession of the disputed vineyards to the greatest of his&lt;br /&gt;champions is of all acts the most appropriate to this&lt;br /&gt;day; to this happy day that may yet deliver the East&lt;br /&gt;from the curse of war and the West from the curse&lt;br /&gt;of wine.  The gallant prince who meets us here at last,&lt;br /&gt;to offer an olive branch even more glorious than his&lt;br /&gt;sword, may well have our sympathy if he himself&lt;br /&gt;views the cession with some sentimental regret; but I&lt;br /&gt;have little doubt that he also will live to rejoice in it&lt;br /&gt;at last.  And I would remind you that it is not the&lt;br /&gt;vine alone that has been the sign of the glory of the&lt;br /&gt;South.  There is another sacred tree unstained by loose&lt;br /&gt;and violent memories, guiltless of the blood of&lt;br /&gt;Pentheus or of Orpheus and the broken lyre.  We shall&lt;br /&gt;pass from this place in a little while as all things pass&lt;br /&gt;and perish:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   "Far called, our navies melt away.&lt;br /&gt;      On dune and headland sinks the fire,&lt;br /&gt;    And all our pomp of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;      Is one with Nineveh and Tyre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But so long as sun can shine and soil can nourish, happier men and&lt;br /&gt;women after us shall look on this lovely islet and it shall tell its&lt;br /&gt;own story; for they shall see these three holy olive trees lifted in&lt;br /&gt;everlasting benediction, over the humble spot out of which came the&lt;br /&gt;peace of the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other two men were staring at Patrick Dalroy;&lt;br /&gt;his hand had tightened on the tree, and a giant billow&lt;br /&gt;of effort went over his broad breast.  A small stone&lt;br /&gt;jerked itself out of the ground at the foot of the tree&lt;br /&gt;as if it were a grasshopper jumping; and then the&lt;br /&gt;coiled roots of the olive tree rose very slowly out of&lt;br /&gt;the earth like the limbs of a dragon lifting itself from&lt;br /&gt;sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I offer an olive branch," said the King of Ithaca,&lt;br /&gt;totteringly leaning the loose tree so that its vast&lt;br /&gt;shadow, much larger than itself, fell across the whole&lt;br /&gt;council.  "An olive branch," he gasped, "more glorious&lt;br /&gt;than my sword.  Also heavier."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he made another effort and tossed it into the&lt;br /&gt;sea below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The German, who was no German, had put up his&lt;br /&gt;arm in apprehension when the shadow fell across him.&lt;br /&gt;Now he got up and edged away from the table; seeing&lt;br /&gt;that the wild Irishman was tearing up the second tree.&lt;br /&gt;This one came out more easily; and before he flung&lt;br /&gt;it after the first, he stood with it a moment; looking&lt;br /&gt;like a man juggling with a tower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood showed more firmness; but he rose&lt;br /&gt;in tremendous remonstrance.  Only the Turkish Pasha&lt;br /&gt;still sat with blank eyes, immovable.  Dalroy rent out&lt;br /&gt;the last tree and hurled it, leaving the island bare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There!" said Dalroy, when the third and last olive&lt;br /&gt;had splashed in the tide.  "Now I will go.  I have&lt;br /&gt;seen something today that is worse than death: and&lt;br /&gt;the name of it is Peace."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oman Pasha rose and held out his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are right," he said in French, "and I hope we&lt;br /&gt;meet again in the only life that is a good life.  Where&lt;br /&gt;are you going now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am going," said Dalroy, dreamily, "to 'The Old&lt;br /&gt;Ship.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you mean?" asked the Turk, "that you are&lt;br /&gt;going back to the warships of the English King?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," answered the other, "I am going back to 'The&lt;br /&gt;Old Ship' that is behind the apple trees by Pebblewick;&lt;br /&gt;where the Ule flows among the trees.  I fear I&lt;br /&gt;shall never see you there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an instant's hesitation he wrung the red hand&lt;br /&gt;of the great tyrant and walked to his boat without a&lt;br /&gt;glance at the diplomatists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SIGN OF "THE OLD SHIP"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPON few of the children of men has the surname of&lt;br /&gt;Pump fallen, and of these few have been maddened&lt;br /&gt;into naming a child Humphrey in addition to it.  To&lt;br /&gt;such extremity, however, had the parents of the&lt;br /&gt;innkeeper at "The Old Ship" proceeded, that their son&lt;br /&gt;might come at last to be called "Hump" by his dearest&lt;br /&gt;friends, and "Pumph" by an aged Turk with a&lt;br /&gt;green umbrella.  All this, or all he knew of it, he&lt;br /&gt;endured with a sour smile; for he was of a stoical temper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Humphrey Pump stood outside his inn, which&lt;br /&gt;stood almost on the seashore, screened only by one&lt;br /&gt;line of apple trees, dwarfed, twisted and salted by the&lt;br /&gt;sea air; but in front of it was a highly banked bowling&lt;br /&gt;green, and behind it the land sank abruptly; so that&lt;br /&gt;one very steep sweeping road vanished into the depth&lt;br /&gt;and mystery of taller trees.  Mr. Pump was standing&lt;br /&gt;immediately under his trim sign, which stood erect in&lt;br /&gt;the turf; a wooden pole painted white and suspending&lt;br /&gt;a square white board, also painted white but further&lt;br /&gt;decorated with a highly grotesque blue ship, such as&lt;br /&gt;a child might draw, but into which Mr. Pump's patriotism&lt;br /&gt;had insinuated a disproportionately large red St.&lt;br /&gt;George's cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Humphrey Pump was a man of middle size,&lt;br /&gt;with very broad shoulders, wearing a sort of shooting&lt;br /&gt;suit with gaiters.  Indeed, he was engaged at the&lt;br /&gt;moment in cleaning and reloading a double-barrelled&lt;br /&gt;gun, a short but powerful weapon which he had&lt;br /&gt;invented, or at least improved, himself; and which,&lt;br /&gt;though eccentric enough as compared with latest scientific&lt;br /&gt;arms, was neither clumsy nor necessarily out of&lt;br /&gt;date.  For Pump was one of those handy men who&lt;br /&gt;seem to have a hundred hands like Briareus; he made&lt;br /&gt;nearly everything for himself and everything in his&lt;br /&gt;house was slightly different from the same thing in&lt;br /&gt;anyone else's house.  He was also as cunning as Pan&lt;br /&gt;or a poacher in everything affecting every bird or&lt;br /&gt;dish, every leaf or berry in the woods.  His mind was&lt;br /&gt;a rich soil of subconscious memories and traditions;&lt;br /&gt;and he had a curious kind of gossip so allusive as to&lt;br /&gt;almost amount to reticence; for he always took it for&lt;br /&gt;granted that everyone knew his county and its tales&lt;br /&gt;as intimately as he did; so he would mention the most&lt;br /&gt;mysterious and amazing things without relaxing a&lt;br /&gt;muscle on his face, which seemed to be made of knotted&lt;br /&gt;wood.  His dark brown hair ended in two rudimentary&lt;br /&gt;side whiskers, giving him a slightly horsy&lt;br /&gt;look, but in the old-fashioned sportsman's style.  His&lt;br /&gt;smile was rather wry and crabbed; but his brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;were kindly and soft.  He was very English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a rule his movements, though quick, were cool;&lt;br /&gt;but on this occasion he put down the gun on the table&lt;br /&gt;outside the inn in a rather hurried manner and came&lt;br /&gt;forward dusting his hands in an unusual degree of&lt;br /&gt;animation and even defiance.  Beyond the goblin&lt;br /&gt;green apple trees and against the sea had appeared the&lt;br /&gt;tall, slight figure of a girl, in a dress about the colour&lt;br /&gt;of copper and a large shady hat.  Under the hat her&lt;br /&gt;face was grave and beautiful though rather swarthy.&lt;br /&gt;She shook hands with Mr. Pump; then he very&lt;br /&gt;ceremoniously put a chair for her and called her "Lady&lt;br /&gt;Joan."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought I would like a look at the old place," she&lt;br /&gt;said.  "We have had some happy times here when we&lt;br /&gt;were boys and girls.  I suppose you hardly see any of&lt;br /&gt;your old friends now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very little," answered Pump, rubbing his short&lt;br /&gt;whisker reflectively.  "Lord Ivywood's become quite&lt;br /&gt;a Methody parson, you know, since he took the place;&lt;br /&gt;he's pulling down beer-shops right and left.  And Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Charles was sent to Australia for lying down flat at&lt;br /&gt;the funeral.  Pretty stiff I call it; but the old lady was&lt;br /&gt;a terror."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you ever hear," asked Lady Joan Brett, carelessly,&lt;br /&gt;"of that Irishman, Captain Dalroy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, more often than from the rest," answered&lt;br /&gt;the innkeeper.  "He seems to have done wonders in&lt;br /&gt;this Greek business.  Ah!  He was a sad loss to the&lt;br /&gt;Navy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They insulted his country," said the girl, looking&lt;br /&gt;at the sea with a heightened colour.  "After all,&lt;br /&gt;Ireland was his country; and he had a right to resent it&lt;br /&gt;being spoken of like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And when they found he'd painted him green,"&lt;br /&gt;went on Mr. Pump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Painted him what?" asked Lady Joan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Painted Captain Dawson green," continued Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Pump in colourless tones.  "Captain Dawson said&lt;br /&gt;green was the colour of Irish traitors, so Dalroy painted&lt;br /&gt;him green.  It was a great temptation, no doubt,&lt;br /&gt;with this fence being painted at the time and the pail&lt;br /&gt;of stuff there; but, of course, it had a very prejudicial&lt;br /&gt;effect on his professional career."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What an extraordinary story!" said the staring&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan, breaking into a rather joyless laugh.  "It&lt;br /&gt;must go down among your county legends.  I never&lt;br /&gt;heard that version before.  Why, it might be the origin&lt;br /&gt;of the 'Green Man' over there by the town."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, no," said Pump, simply, "that's been there&lt;br /&gt;since before Waterloo times.  Poor old Noyle had it&lt;br /&gt;until they put him away.  You remember old Noyle,&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan.  Still alive, I hear, and still writing&lt;br /&gt;love-letters to Queen Victoria.  Only of course they aren't&lt;br /&gt;posted now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have you heard from your Irish friend lately?"&lt;br /&gt;asked the girl, keeping a steady eye on the sky-line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I had a letter last week," answered the&lt;br /&gt;innkeeper.  "It seems not impossible that he may return&lt;br /&gt;to England.  He's been acting for one of these Greek&lt;br /&gt;places, and the negotiations seem to be concluded.  It's&lt;br /&gt;a queer thing that his lordship himself was the English&lt;br /&gt;minister in charge of them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You mean Lord Ivywood," said Lady Joan, rather&lt;br /&gt;coldly.  "Yes, he has a great career before him,&lt;br /&gt;evidently."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish he hadn't got his knife into us so much,"&lt;br /&gt;chuckled Pump.  "I don't believe there'll be an inn&lt;br /&gt;left in England.  But the Ivywoods were always&lt;br /&gt;cranky.  It's only fair to him to remember his&lt;br /&gt;grandfather."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think it's very ungallant on your part," said Lady&lt;br /&gt;Joan, with a mournful smile, "to ask a lady to remember&lt;br /&gt;his grandfather."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know what I mean, Lady Joan," said her host,&lt;br /&gt;good humouredly.  "And I never was hard on the case&lt;br /&gt;myself; we all have our little ways.  I shouldn't like&lt;br /&gt;it done to my pig; but I don't see why a man shouldn't&lt;br /&gt;have his own pig in his own pew with him if he likes&lt;br /&gt;it.  It wasn't a free seat.  It was the family pew."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan broke out laughing again.  "What horrible&lt;br /&gt;things you do seem to have heard of," she said.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I must be going, Mr. Hump--I mean Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Pump--I used to call you Hump . . . oh, Hump, do&lt;br /&gt;you think any of us will ever be happy again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I suppose it rests with Providence," he said,&lt;br /&gt;looking at the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, do say Providence again!" cried the girl.&lt;br /&gt;"It's as good as 'Masterman Ready.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With which inconsequent words she betook herself&lt;br /&gt;again to the path by the apple trees and walked back&lt;br /&gt;by the sea front to Pebblewick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inn of "The Old Ship" lay a little beyond the&lt;br /&gt;old fishing village of Pebblewick; and that again was&lt;br /&gt;separated by an empty half-mile or so from the new&lt;br /&gt;watering-place of Pebblewick-on-Sea.  But the&lt;br /&gt;dark-haired lady walked steadily along the sea-front, on a&lt;br /&gt;sort of parade which had been stretched out to east and&lt;br /&gt;west in the insane optimism of watering-places, and,&lt;br /&gt;as she approached the more crowded part, looked more&lt;br /&gt;and more carefully at the groups on the beach.  Most of&lt;br /&gt;them were much the same as she had seen them more&lt;br /&gt;than a month before.  The seekers after truth (as&lt;br /&gt;the man in the fez would say) who assembled daily to&lt;br /&gt;find out what the man was doing with the paper-boxes,&lt;br /&gt;had not found out yet; neither had they wearied&lt;br /&gt;of their intellectual pilgrimage.  Pennies were still&lt;br /&gt;thrown to the thundering atheist in acknowledgment&lt;br /&gt;of his incessant abuse; and this was all the more&lt;br /&gt;mysterious because the crowd was obviously indifferent,&lt;br /&gt;and the atheist was obviously sincere.  The man with&lt;br /&gt;the long neck who led Low Church hymns with a little&lt;br /&gt;wooden spade had indeed disappeared; for children's&lt;br /&gt;services of this kind are generally a moving feast; but&lt;br /&gt;the man whose only claim consisted of carrots round&lt;br /&gt;his hat was still there; and seemed to have even more&lt;br /&gt;money than before.  But Lady Joan could see no sign&lt;br /&gt;of the little old man in the fez.  She could only&lt;br /&gt;suppose that he had failed entirely; and, being in a bitter&lt;br /&gt;mood, she told herself bitterly that he had sunk out&lt;br /&gt;of sight precisely because there was in his rubbish a&lt;br /&gt;touch of unearthly and insane clearheadedness of&lt;br /&gt;which all these vulgar idiots were incapable.  She did&lt;br /&gt;not confess to herself consciously that what had made&lt;br /&gt;both the man in the fez and the man at the inn interesting&lt;br /&gt;was the subject of which they had spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she walked on rather wearily along the parade&lt;br /&gt;she caught sight of a girl in black with faint fair hair&lt;br /&gt;and a tremulous, intelligent face which she was sure&lt;br /&gt;she had seen before.  Pulling together all her&lt;br /&gt;aristocratic training for the remembering of middle class&lt;br /&gt;people, she managed to remember that this was a Miss&lt;br /&gt;Browning who had done typewriting work for her a&lt;br /&gt;year or two before; and immediately went forward to&lt;br /&gt;greet her, partly out of genuine good nature and&lt;br /&gt;partly as a relief from her own rather dreary thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;Her tone was so seriously frank and friendly that the&lt;br /&gt;lady in black summoned the social courage to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've so often wanted to introduce you to my sister&lt;br /&gt;who's much cleverer than I am, though she does live&lt;br /&gt;at home; which I suppose is very old-fashioned.  She&lt;br /&gt;knows all sorts of intellectual people.  She is talking&lt;br /&gt;to one of them now; this Prophet of the Moon that&lt;br /&gt;everyone's talking about.  Do let me introduce you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan Brett had met many prophets of the&lt;br /&gt;moon and of other things.  But she had the spontaneous&lt;br /&gt;courtesy which redeems the vices of her class, and&lt;br /&gt;she followed Miss Browning to a seat on the parade.&lt;br /&gt;She greeted Miss Browning's sister with glowing&lt;br /&gt;politeness; and this may really be counted to her&lt;br /&gt;credit; for she had great difficulty in looking at Miss&lt;br /&gt;Browning's sister at all.  For on the seat beside her,&lt;br /&gt;still in a red fez but in a brilliantly new black frock&lt;br /&gt;coat and every appearance of prosperity, sat the old&lt;br /&gt;gentleman who had lectured on the sands about the&lt;br /&gt;inns of England.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He lectured at our Ethical Society," whispered&lt;br /&gt;Miss Browning, "on the word Alcohol.  Just on the&lt;br /&gt;word Alcohol.  He was perfectly thrilling.  All about&lt;br /&gt;Arabia and Algebra, you know, and how everything&lt;br /&gt;comes from the East.  You really would be interested."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am interested," said Lady Joan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Poot it to yourselfs," the man in the fez was&lt;br /&gt;saying to Miss Browning's sister, "joost what sort of&lt;br /&gt;meaning the names of your ince can have if they do&lt;br /&gt;not commemorate the unlimitable influence of Islam.&lt;br /&gt;There is a vary populous Inn in London, one of the&lt;br /&gt;most distinguished, one of the most of the Centre, and&lt;br /&gt;it is called the Horseshoe?  Now, my friendss, why&lt;br /&gt;should anyone commemorate a horse-shoe?  It iss but&lt;br /&gt;an appendage to a creature more interesting than itself.&lt;br /&gt;I have already demonstrated to you that the very fact&lt;br /&gt;that you have in your town a place of drink called the&lt;br /&gt;Bool--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I should like to ask--" began Lady Joan, suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A place of drink called the Bool," went on the man&lt;br /&gt;in the fez, deaf to all distractions, "and I have urged&lt;br /&gt;that the Bool is a disturbing thought, while the Bul-Bul&lt;br /&gt;is a reassuring thought.  But even you my friends,&lt;br /&gt;would not name a place after a ring in a Bool's nose&lt;br /&gt;and not after the Bool?  Why then name an equivalent&lt;br /&gt;place after the shoo, the mere shoo, upon a horse's&lt;br /&gt;hoof, and not after the noble horse?  Surely it is clear,&lt;br /&gt;surely it is evident that the term 'horse-shoe' is a&lt;br /&gt;cryptic term, an esoteric term, a term made during the&lt;br /&gt;days when the ancient Moslem faith of this English&lt;br /&gt;country was oppressed by the passing superstition of&lt;br /&gt;the Galileans.  That bent shape, that duplex curving&lt;br /&gt;shape, which you call horse-shoe, is it not clearly the&lt;br /&gt;Crescent?" and he cast his arms wide as he had done&lt;br /&gt;on the sands, "the Crescent of the Prophet of the only&lt;br /&gt;God?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I should like to ask," began Lady Joan, again,&lt;br /&gt;"how you would explain the name of the inn called&lt;br /&gt;'The Green Man,' just behind that row of houses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Exactly! exactly!" cried the Prophet of the Moon,&lt;br /&gt;in almost insane excitement.  "The seeker after truth&lt;br /&gt;could not at all probably find a more perfect example&lt;br /&gt;of these principles.  My friendss, how could there be a&lt;br /&gt;green man?  You are acquainted with green grass,&lt;br /&gt;with green leaves, with green cheese, with green&lt;br /&gt;chartreuse.  I ask if any one of you, however wide her&lt;br /&gt;social circle, has ever been acquainted with a green&lt;br /&gt;man.  Surely, surely, it is evident, my friendss, that this&lt;br /&gt;is an imperfect version, an abbreviated version, of the&lt;br /&gt;original words. What can be clearer than that the&lt;br /&gt;original expression, was 'the green-turban'd man,' in&lt;br /&gt;allusion to the well-known uniform of the descendants&lt;br /&gt;of the Prophet?  'Turban'd' surely is just the&lt;br /&gt;sort of word, exactly the sort of foreign and&lt;br /&gt;unfamiliar word, that might easily be slurred over and&lt;br /&gt;ultimately suppressed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is a legend in these parts," said Lady Joan,&lt;br /&gt;steadily, "that a great hero, hearing the colour that&lt;br /&gt;was sacred to his holy island insulted, really poured it&lt;br /&gt;over his enemy for a reply."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A legend! a fable!" cried the man in the fez, with&lt;br /&gt;another radiant and rational expansion of the hands.&lt;br /&gt;"Is it not evident that no such thing can have really&lt;br /&gt;happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yes--it really happened," said the young lady,&lt;br /&gt;softly.  "There is not much to comfort one in this&lt;br /&gt;world; but there are some things.  Oh, it really&lt;br /&gt;happened."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And taking a graceful farewell of the group, she&lt;br /&gt;resumed her rather listless walk along the parade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER IV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE INN FINDS WINGS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MR. HUMPHREY PUMP stood in front of his inn once&lt;br /&gt;more, the cleaned and loaded gun still lay on the table,&lt;br /&gt;and the white sign of The Ship still swung in the slight&lt;br /&gt;sea breeze over his head; but his leatherish features&lt;br /&gt;were knotted over a new problem.  He held two letters&lt;br /&gt;in his hand, letters of a very different sort, but&lt;br /&gt;letters that pointed to the same difficult problem.  The&lt;br /&gt;first ran:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DEAR HUMP--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm so bothered that I simply must call you by the old&lt;br /&gt;name again.  You understand I've got to keep in with my&lt;br /&gt;people.  Lord Ivywood is a sort of cousin of mine, and for&lt;br /&gt;that and some other reasons, my poor old mother would&lt;br /&gt;just die if I offended him.  You know her heart is weak;&lt;br /&gt;you know everything there is to know in this county.  Well,&lt;br /&gt;I only write to warn you that something is going to be done&lt;br /&gt;against your dear old inn.  I don't know what this Country's&lt;br /&gt;coming to.  Only a month or two ago I saw a shabby&lt;br /&gt;old pantaloon on the beach with a green gamp, talking the&lt;br /&gt;craziest stuff you ever heard in your life.  Three weeks&lt;br /&gt;ago I heard he was lecturing at Ethical Societies--whatever&lt;br /&gt;they are--for a handsome salary.  Well, when I was last&lt;br /&gt;at Ivywood--I must go because Mamma likes it--there was&lt;br /&gt;the living lunatic again, in evening dress, and talked about&lt;br /&gt;by people who really _know_.  I mean who know better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywood is entirely under his influence and thinks&lt;br /&gt;him the greatest prophet the world has ever seen.  And&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood is not a fool; one can't help admiring him.&lt;br /&gt;Mamma, I think, wants me to do more than admire him.&lt;br /&gt;I am telling you everything, Hump, because I think perhaps&lt;br /&gt;this is the last honest letter I shall ever write in the world.&lt;br /&gt;And I warn you seriously that Lord Ivywood is _sincere_,&lt;br /&gt;which is perfectly terrible.  He will be the biggest English&lt;br /&gt;statesman, and he does really mean to ruin--the old ships.&lt;br /&gt;If ever you see me here again taking part in such work,&lt;br /&gt;I hope you may forgive me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Somebody we mentioned, whom I shall never see again,&lt;br /&gt;I leave to your friendship.  It is the second best thing I can&lt;br /&gt;give, and I am not sure it may not be better than the first&lt;br /&gt;would have been.  Goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;                     J. B."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This letter seemed to distress Mr. Pump rather than&lt;br /&gt;puzzle him.  It ran as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"SIR--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Committee of the Imperial Commission of Liquor&lt;br /&gt;Control is directed to draw your attention to the fact&lt;br /&gt;you have disregarded the Committee's communications under&lt;br /&gt;section 5A of the Act for the Regulation of Places of Public&lt;br /&gt;Entertainment; and that you are now under Section 47C of&lt;br /&gt;the Act amending the Act for the Regulation of Places of&lt;br /&gt;Public Entertainment aforesaid.  The charges on which&lt;br /&gt;prosecution will be founded are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(1) Violation of sub-section 23_f_ of the Act, which&lt;br /&gt;enacts that no pictorial signs shall be exhibited before&lt;br /&gt;premises of less than the ratable value of £2000 per&lt;br /&gt;annum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"(2) Violation of sub-section 113_d_ of the Act, which&lt;br /&gt;enacts that no liquor containing alcohol shall be sold in&lt;br /&gt;any inn, hotel, tavern or public-house, except when&lt;br /&gt;demanded under a medical certificate from one of the&lt;br /&gt;doctors licensed by the State Medical Council, or in&lt;br /&gt;the specially excepted cases of Claridge's Hotel and the&lt;br /&gt;Criterion Bar, where urgency has already been proved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As you have failed to acknowledge previous communications&lt;br /&gt;on this subject, this is to warn you that legal steps will&lt;br /&gt;be taken immediately,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                "We are yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                "IVYWOOD, _President_.&lt;br /&gt;                                 J. LEVESON, _Secretary_."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Humphrey Pump sat down at the table outside&lt;br /&gt;his inn and whistled in a way which, combined&lt;br /&gt;with his little whiskers made him for the moment seem&lt;br /&gt;literally like an ostler.  Then, the very real wit and&lt;br /&gt;learning he had returned slowly into his face and&lt;br /&gt;with his warm, brown eyes he considered the cold, grey&lt;br /&gt;sea.  There was not much to be got out of the sea.&lt;br /&gt;Humphrey Pump might drown himself in the sea;&lt;br /&gt;which would be better for Humphrey Pump than being&lt;br /&gt;finally separated from "The Old Ship."  England might&lt;br /&gt;be sunk under the sea; which would be better for&lt;br /&gt;England than never again having such places as "The Old&lt;br /&gt;Ship."  But these were not serious remedies nor rationally&lt;br /&gt;attainable; and Pump could only feel that the&lt;br /&gt;sea had simply warped him as it had warped his apple&lt;br /&gt;trees.  The sea was a dreary business altogether.&lt;br /&gt;There was only one figure walking on the sands.  It&lt;br /&gt;was only when the figure drew nearer and nearer and&lt;br /&gt;grew to more than human size, that he sprang to his&lt;br /&gt;feet with a cry.  Also the level light of morning lit the&lt;br /&gt;man's hair, and it was red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The late King of Ithaca came casually and slowly&lt;br /&gt;up the slope of the beach that led to "The Old Ship."&lt;br /&gt;He had landed in a boat from a battleship that could&lt;br /&gt;still be seen near the horizon, and he still wore the&lt;br /&gt;astounding uniform of apple-green and silver which&lt;br /&gt;he had himself invented as that of a navy that had&lt;br /&gt;never existed very much, and which now did not exist&lt;br /&gt;at all.  He had a straight naval sword at his side; for&lt;br /&gt;the terms of his capitulation had never required him&lt;br /&gt;to surrender it; and inside the uniform and beside the&lt;br /&gt;sword there was what there always had been, a big&lt;br /&gt;and rather bewildered man with rough red hair, whose&lt;br /&gt;misfortune was that he had good brains, but that his&lt;br /&gt;bodily strength and bodily passions were a little too&lt;br /&gt;strong for his brains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had flung his crashing weight on the chair outside&lt;br /&gt;the inn before the innkeeper could find words to&lt;br /&gt;express his astounded pleasure in seeing him.  His&lt;br /&gt;first words were "have you got any rum?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as if feeling that his attitude needed explanation,&lt;br /&gt;he added, "I suppose I shall never be a sailor&lt;br /&gt;again after tonight.  So I must have rum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humphrey Pump had a talent for friendship, and&lt;br /&gt;understood his old friend.  He went into the inn&lt;br /&gt;without a word; and came back idly pushing or rolling&lt;br /&gt;with an alternate foot (as if he were playing football&lt;br /&gt;with two footballs at once) two objects that&lt;br /&gt;rolled very easily.  One was a big keg or barrel of&lt;br /&gt;rum and the other a great solid drum of a cheese.&lt;br /&gt;Among his thousand other technical tricks he had a&lt;br /&gt;way of tapping a cask without a tap, or anything that&lt;br /&gt;could impair its revolutionary or revolving qualities.&lt;br /&gt;He was feeling in his pocket for the instrument with&lt;br /&gt;which he solved such questions, when his Irish&lt;br /&gt;friend suddenly sat bolt upright, as one startled out of&lt;br /&gt;sleep, and spoke with his strongest and most unusual&lt;br /&gt;brogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh thank ye, Hump, a thousand times; and I don't&lt;br /&gt;think I really want something to drink at arl.  Now I&lt;br /&gt;know I can have it, I don't seem to want it at arl.&lt;br /&gt;But hwhat I do want--" and he suddenly dashed his&lt;br /&gt;big fist on the little table so that one of its legs leapt&lt;br /&gt;and nearly snapped--"hwhat I do want is some sort&lt;br /&gt;of account of what's happening in this England of&lt;br /&gt;yours that shan't be just obviously rubbish."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah," said Pump, fingering the two letters thoughtfully.&lt;br /&gt;"And what do you mean by rubbish?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I carl it rubbish" cried Patrick Dalroy, "when ye&lt;br /&gt;put the Koran into the Bible and not the Apocrypha;&lt;br /&gt;and I carl it rubbish when a mad parson's allowed to&lt;br /&gt;propose to put a crescent on St. Paul's Cathedral.  I&lt;br /&gt;know the Turks are our allies now, but they often&lt;br /&gt;were before, and I never heard that Palmerston or&lt;br /&gt;Colin Campbell had any truck with such trash."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywood is very enthusiastic, I know," said&lt;br /&gt;Pump, with a restrained amusement.  "He was saying&lt;br /&gt;only the other day at the Flower Show here that the&lt;br /&gt;time had come for a full unity between Christianity&lt;br /&gt;and Islam."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Something called Chrislam perhaps," said the&lt;br /&gt;Irishman, with a moody eye.  He was gazing across&lt;br /&gt;the grey and purple woodlands that stretched below&lt;br /&gt;them at the back of the inn; and into which the steep,&lt;br /&gt;white road swept downwards and disappeared.  The&lt;br /&gt;steep road looked like the beginning of an adventure;&lt;br /&gt;and he was an adventurer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But you exaggerate, you know," went on Pump,&lt;br /&gt;polishing his gun, "about the crescent on St. Paul's.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't exactly that.  What Dr. Moole suggested, I&lt;br /&gt;think, was some sort of double emblem, you know,&lt;br /&gt;combining cross and crescent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And carled the Crescent," muttered Dalroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you can't call Dr. Moole a parson either,"&lt;br /&gt;went on Mr. Humphrey Pump, polishing industriously.&lt;br /&gt;"Why, they say he's a sort of atheist, or what&lt;br /&gt;they call an agnostic, like Squire Brunton who used&lt;br /&gt;to bite elm trees by Marley.  The grand folks have&lt;br /&gt;these fashions, Captain, but they've never lasted long&lt;br /&gt;that I know of."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think it's serious this time," said his friend,&lt;br /&gt;shaking his big red head.  "This is the last inn on this&lt;br /&gt;coast, and will soon be the last inn in England.  Do&lt;br /&gt;you remember the 'Saracen's Head' in Plumsea, along&lt;br /&gt;the shore there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know," assented the innkeeper.  "My aunt was&lt;br /&gt;there when he hanged his mother; but it's a charming&lt;br /&gt;place."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I passed there just now; and it has been destroyed,"&lt;br /&gt;said Dalroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Destroyed by fire?" asked Pump, pausing in his&lt;br /&gt;gun-scrubbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said Dalroy, "destroyed by lemonade.&lt;br /&gt;They've taken away its license or whatever you call it.&lt;br /&gt;I made a song about it, which I'll sing to you now!"&lt;br /&gt;And with an astounding air of suddenly revived spirits,&lt;br /&gt;he roared in a voice like thunder the following&lt;br /&gt;verses, to a simple but spirited tune of his own&lt;br /&gt;invention:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "The Saracen's Head looks down the lane,&lt;br /&gt;     Where we shall never drink wine again;&lt;br /&gt;     For the wicked old Women who feel well-bred&lt;br /&gt;     Have turned to a tea-shop the Saracen's Head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "The Saracen's Head out of Araby came,&lt;br /&gt;     King Richard riding in arms like flame,&lt;br /&gt;     And where he established his folk to be fed&lt;br /&gt;     He set up his spear--and the Saracen's Head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "But the Saracen's Head outlived the Kings,&lt;br /&gt;     It thought and it thought of most horrible things;&lt;br /&gt;     Of Health and of Soap and of Standard Bread,&lt;br /&gt;     And of Saracen drinks at the Saracen's Head."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hullo!" cried Pump, with another low whistle.&lt;br /&gt;"Why here comes his lordship.  And I suppose that&lt;br /&gt;young man in the goggles is a Committee or&lt;br /&gt;something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let him come," said Dalroy, and continued in a&lt;br /&gt;yet more earthquake bellow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "So the Saracen's Head fulfils its name,&lt;br /&gt;     They drink no wine--a ridiculous game--     And I shall wonder until I'm dead,&lt;br /&gt;     How it ever came into the Saracen's Head."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the last echo of this lyrical roar rolled away&lt;br /&gt;among the apple-trees, and down the steep, white road&lt;br /&gt;into the woods, Captain Dalroy leaned back in his&lt;br /&gt;chair and nodded good humouredly to Lord Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;who was standing on the lawn with his usual cold air,&lt;br /&gt;but with slightly compressed lips.  Behind him was a&lt;br /&gt;dark young man with double eyeglasses and a number&lt;br /&gt;of printed papers in his hand; presumably J. Leveson,&lt;br /&gt;Secretary.  In the road outside stood a group of&lt;br /&gt;three which struck Pump as strangely incongruous,&lt;br /&gt;like a group in a three act farce.  The first was a police&lt;br /&gt;inspector in uniform; the second was a workman in&lt;br /&gt;a leather apron, more or less like a carpenter, and the&lt;br /&gt;third was an old man in a scarlet Turkish fez, but&lt;br /&gt;otherwise dressed in very fashionable English clothes&lt;br /&gt;in which he did not seem very comfortable.  He was&lt;br /&gt;explaining something about the inn to the policeman&lt;br /&gt;and the carpenter, who appeared to be restraining their&lt;br /&gt;amusement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fine song that, my lord," said Dalroy, with cheerful&lt;br /&gt;egotism.  "I'll sing you another," and he cleared&lt;br /&gt;his throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Pump," said Lord Ivywood, in his bell-like and&lt;br /&gt;beautiful voice, "I thought I would come in person, if&lt;br /&gt;only to make it clear that every indulgence has been&lt;br /&gt;shown you.  The mere date of this inn brings it within&lt;br /&gt;the statute of 1909; it was erected when my great&lt;br /&gt;grandfather was Lord of the Manor here, though I&lt;br /&gt;believe it then bore a different name, and--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, my lord," broke in Pump with a sigh, "I'd&lt;br /&gt;rather deal with your great grandfather, I would,&lt;br /&gt;though he married a hundred negresses instead of one,&lt;br /&gt;than see a gentleman of your family taking away a&lt;br /&gt;poor man's livelihood."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The act is specially designed in the interests of the&lt;br /&gt;relief of poverty," proceeded Lord Ivywood, in an&lt;br /&gt;unruffled manner, "and its final advantages will accrue&lt;br /&gt;to all citizens alike."  He turned for an instant to&lt;br /&gt;the dark secretary, saying, "You have that second&lt;br /&gt;report?" and received a folded paper in answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is here fully explained," said Lord Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;putting on his elderly eyeglasses, "that the purpose of&lt;br /&gt;the Act is largely to protect the savings of the more&lt;br /&gt;humble and necessitous classes.  I find in paragraph&lt;br /&gt;three, 'we strongly advise that the deleterious element&lt;br /&gt;of alcohol be made illegal save in such few places as&lt;br /&gt;the Government may specially exempt for Parliamentary&lt;br /&gt;or other public reasons, and that the provocative&lt;br /&gt;and demoralising display on inn signs be strictly&lt;br /&gt;forbidden except in the cases thus specially exempted: the&lt;br /&gt;absence of such temptations will, in our opinion, do&lt;br /&gt;much to improve the precarious financial conditions&lt;br /&gt;of the working class.'  That disposes, I think, of any&lt;br /&gt;such suggestion as Mr. Pump's, that our inevitable acts&lt;br /&gt;of social reform are in any sense oppressive.  To Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Pump's prejudice it may appear for the moment to&lt;br /&gt;bear hardly upon him; but" (and here Lord Ivywood's&lt;br /&gt;voice took one of its moving oratorical turns), "what&lt;br /&gt;better proof could we desire of the insidiousness of&lt;br /&gt;the sleepy poison we denounce, what better evidence&lt;br /&gt;could we offer of the civic corruption that we seek to&lt;br /&gt;cure, than the very fact that good and worthy men of&lt;br /&gt;established repute in the county can, by living in such&lt;br /&gt;places as these, become so stagnant and sodden and&lt;br /&gt;unsocial, whether through the fumes of wine or&lt;br /&gt;through meditations as maudlin about the past, that&lt;br /&gt;they consider the case solely as their own case, and&lt;br /&gt;laugh at the long agony of the poor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Dalroy had been studying Ivywood with a&lt;br /&gt;very bright blue eye; and he spoke now much more&lt;br /&gt;quietly than he generally did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me one moment, my lord," he said.  "But&lt;br /&gt;there was one point in your important explanation&lt;br /&gt;which I am not sure I have got right.  Do I understand&lt;br /&gt;you to say that, though sign-boards are to be&lt;br /&gt;generally abolished, yet where, if anywhere, they are&lt;br /&gt;retained, the right to sell fermented liquor will be&lt;br /&gt;retained also?  In other words, though an Englishman&lt;br /&gt;may at last find only one inn-sign left in England,&lt;br /&gt;yet if the place has an inn-sign, it will also have your&lt;br /&gt;gracious permission to be really an inn?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood had an admirable command of temper,&lt;br /&gt;which had helped him much in his career as a&lt;br /&gt;statesman.  He did not waste time in wrangling about&lt;br /&gt;the Captain's _locus standi_ in the matter.  He replied&lt;br /&gt;quite simply,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, Your statement of the facts is correct."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whenever I find an inn-sign permitted by the&lt;br /&gt;police, I may go in and ask for a glass of beer--also&lt;br /&gt;permitted by the police."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you find any such, yes," answered Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;quite temperately.  "But we hope soon to have&lt;br /&gt;removed them altogether."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Patrick Dalroy rose enormously from his&lt;br /&gt;seat with a sort of stretch and yawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Hump," he said to his friend, "the best thing,&lt;br /&gt;it seems to me, is to take the important things with us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With two sight-staggering kicks he sent the keg&lt;br /&gt;of rum and the round cheese flying over the fence,&lt;br /&gt;in such a direction that they bounded on the descending&lt;br /&gt;road and rolled more and more rapidly down&lt;br /&gt;toward the dark woods into which the path disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;Then he gripped the pole of the inn-sign,&lt;br /&gt;shook it twice and plucked it out of the turf like a tuft&lt;br /&gt;of grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had all happened before anyone could move, but&lt;br /&gt;as he strode out into the road the policeman ran&lt;br /&gt;forward.  Dalroy smote him flat across face and chest&lt;br /&gt;with the wooden sign-board, so as to send him flying&lt;br /&gt;into the ditch on the other side of the road.  Then&lt;br /&gt;turning on the man in the fez he poked him with the&lt;br /&gt;end of the pole so sharply in his new white waistcoat&lt;br /&gt;and watch-chain as to cause him to sit down suddenly&lt;br /&gt;in the road, looking very serious and thoughtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dark secretary made a movement of rescue,&lt;br /&gt;but Humphrey Pump, with a cry, caught up his gun&lt;br /&gt;from the table and pointed it at him, which so alarmed&lt;br /&gt;J. Leveson, Secretary, as to cause him almost to double&lt;br /&gt;up with his emotions.  The next moment Pump, with&lt;br /&gt;his gun under his arm, was scampering down the hill&lt;br /&gt;after the Captain, who was scampering after the&lt;br /&gt;barrel and the cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the policeman had struggled out of the ditch,&lt;br /&gt;they had all disappeared into the darkness of the&lt;br /&gt;forest.  Lord Ivywood who had remained firm through&lt;br /&gt;the scene, without a sign of fear or impatience (or, I&lt;br /&gt;will add, amusement), held up his hand and stopped&lt;br /&gt;the policeman in his pursuit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We should only make ourselves and the law ridiculous,"&lt;br /&gt;he said, "by pursuing those ludicrous rowdies&lt;br /&gt;now.  They can't escape or do any real harm in the&lt;br /&gt;state of modern communications.  What is far more&lt;br /&gt;important, gentlemen, is to destroy their stores and&lt;br /&gt;their base.  Under the Act of 1911 we have a right&lt;br /&gt;to confiscate and destroy any property in an inn where&lt;br /&gt;the law has been violated."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he stood for hours on the lawn, watching the&lt;br /&gt;smashing of bottles and the breaking up of casks and&lt;br /&gt;feeding on fanatical pleasure: the pleasure his strange,&lt;br /&gt;cold, courageous nature could not get from food or&lt;br /&gt;wine or woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE ASTONISHMENT OF THE AGENT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LORD IVYWOOD shared the mental weakness of most&lt;br /&gt;men who have fed on books; he ignored, not the value&lt;br /&gt;but the very existence of other forms of information.&lt;br /&gt;Thus Humphrey Pump was perfectly aware that Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood considered him an ignorant man who carried&lt;br /&gt;a volume of Pickwick and could not be got to&lt;br /&gt;read any other book.  But Lord Ivywood was quite&lt;br /&gt;unaware that Humphrey never looked at him without&lt;br /&gt;thinking that he could be most successfully hidden&lt;br /&gt;in a wood of small beeches, as his grey-brown hair&lt;br /&gt;and sallow, ashen face exactly reproduced the three&lt;br /&gt;predominant tints of such a sylvan twilight.  Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Pump, I fear, had sometimes partaken of partridge&lt;br /&gt;or pheasant, in his early youth, under circumstances&lt;br /&gt;in which Lord Ivywood was not only unconscious of&lt;br /&gt;the hospitality he was dispensing, but would have&lt;br /&gt;sworn that it was physically impossible for anyone&lt;br /&gt;to elude the vigilance of his efficient system of&lt;br /&gt;game-keeping.  But it is very unwise in one who counts&lt;br /&gt;himself superior to physical things to talk about&lt;br /&gt;physical impossibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood was in error, therefore, when he&lt;br /&gt;said that the fugitives could not possibly escape in&lt;br /&gt;modern England.  You can do a great many things in&lt;br /&gt;modern England if you have noticed; some things, in&lt;br /&gt;fact, which others know by pictures or current speech;&lt;br /&gt;if you know, for instance, that most roadside hedges&lt;br /&gt;are taller and denser than they look, and that even&lt;br /&gt;the largest man lying just behind them, takes up far&lt;br /&gt;less room than you would suppose; if you know that&lt;br /&gt;many natural sounds are much more like each other&lt;br /&gt;than the enlightened ear can believe, as in the case of&lt;br /&gt;wind in leaves and of the sea; if you know that it is&lt;br /&gt;easier to walk in socks than in boots, if you know&lt;br /&gt;how to take hold of the ground; if you know&lt;br /&gt;that the proportion of dogs who will bite a man under&lt;br /&gt;any circumstances is rather less than the proportion&lt;br /&gt;of men who will murder you in a railway carriage; if&lt;br /&gt;you know that you need not be drowned even in a&lt;br /&gt;river, unless the tide is very strong, and unless you&lt;br /&gt;practise putting yourself into the special attitudes of&lt;br /&gt;a suicide; if you know that country stations have&lt;br /&gt;objectless, extra waiting rooms that nobody ever goes&lt;br /&gt;into; and if you know that county folk will forget&lt;br /&gt;you if you speak to them, but talk about you all day&lt;br /&gt;if you don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the exercise of these and other arts and sciences&lt;br /&gt;Humphrey Pump was able to guide his friend across&lt;br /&gt;country, mostly in the character of trespasser and&lt;br /&gt;occasionally in that of something like housebreaker,&lt;br /&gt;and eventually, with sign, keg, cheese and all to step&lt;br /&gt;out of a black pinewood onto a white road in a part&lt;br /&gt;of the county where they would not be sought for the&lt;br /&gt;present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opposite them was a cornfield and on their right,&lt;br /&gt;in the shades of the pine trees, a cottage, a very&lt;br /&gt;tumbledown cottage that seemed to have collapsed under&lt;br /&gt;its own thatch.  The red-haired Irishman's face wore&lt;br /&gt;a curious smile.  He stuck the inn-sign erect in the&lt;br /&gt;road and went and hammered on the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was opened tremulously by an old man with a&lt;br /&gt;face so wrinkled that the wrinkles seemed more&lt;br /&gt;distinctly graven than the features themselves, which&lt;br /&gt;seemed lost in the labyrinth of them.  He might have&lt;br /&gt;crawled out of the hole in a gnarled tree and he might&lt;br /&gt;have been a thousand years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did not seem to notice the sign-board, which&lt;br /&gt;stood rather to the left of the door; and what life&lt;br /&gt;remained in his eyes seemed to awake in wonder at&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy's stature and strange uniform and the sword&lt;br /&gt;at his side.  "I beg your pardon," said the Captain,&lt;br /&gt;courteously.  "I fear my uniform startles you.  It&lt;br /&gt;is Lord Ivywood's livery.  All his servants are to dress&lt;br /&gt;like this.  In fact, I understand the tenants also and&lt;br /&gt;even yourself, perhaps . . . excuse my sword.&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood is very particular that every man should&lt;br /&gt;have a sword.  You know his beautiful, eloquent way&lt;br /&gt;of putting his views.  'How can we profess,' he was&lt;br /&gt;saying to me yesterday, while I was brushing his&lt;br /&gt;trousers.  'How can we profess that all men are&lt;br /&gt;brothers while we refuse to them the symbol of&lt;br /&gt;manhood; or with what assurance can we claim it as a&lt;br /&gt;movement of modern emancipation to deny the citizen&lt;br /&gt;that which has in all ages marked the difference&lt;br /&gt;between the free man and the slave.  Nor need we&lt;br /&gt;anticipate any such barbaric abuses as my honourable&lt;br /&gt;friend who is cleaning the knives has prophesied, for&lt;br /&gt;this gift is a sublime act of confidence in your universal&lt;br /&gt;passion for the severe splendours of Peace; and&lt;br /&gt;he that has the right to strike is he who has learnt to&lt;br /&gt;spare.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking all this nonsense with extreme rapidity and&lt;br /&gt;vast oratorical flourishes of the hand, Captain Dalroy&lt;br /&gt;proceeded to trundle both the big cheese and the cask&lt;br /&gt;of rum into the house of the astonished cottager: Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Pump following with a grim placidity and his gun&lt;br /&gt;under his arm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywood," said Dalroy, setting the rum cask&lt;br /&gt;with a bump on the plain deal table, "wishes to take&lt;br /&gt;wine with you.  Or, more strictly speaking, rum.&lt;br /&gt;Don't you run away, my friend, with any of these&lt;br /&gt;stories about Lord Ivywood being opposed to drink.&lt;br /&gt;Three-bottle Ivywood, we call him in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;But it must be rum; nothing but rum for the&lt;br /&gt;Ivywoods.  'Wine may be a mocker,' he was saying the&lt;br /&gt;other day (and I particularly noted the phrasing,&lt;br /&gt;which seemed to be very happy even for his lordship;&lt;br /&gt;he was standing at the top of the steps, and I stopped&lt;br /&gt;cleaning them to make a note of it), 'wine may be a&lt;br /&gt;mocker; strong drink may be raging, but nowhere in&lt;br /&gt;the sacred pages will you find one word of censure&lt;br /&gt;of the sweeter spirit sacred to them that go down&lt;br /&gt;to the sea in ships; no tongue of priest and prophet&lt;br /&gt;was ever lifted to break the sacred silence of Holy&lt;br /&gt;Writ about Rum.'  He then explained to me," went&lt;br /&gt;on Dalroy, signing to Pump to tap the cask according&lt;br /&gt;to his own technical secret, "that the great tip for&lt;br /&gt;avoiding any bad results that a bottle or two of rum&lt;br /&gt;might have on young and inexperienced people was&lt;br /&gt;to eat cheese with it, particularly this kind of cheese&lt;br /&gt;that I have here.  I've forgotten its name."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cheddar," said Pump, quite gravely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But mind you!" continued the Captain almost&lt;br /&gt;ferociously, shaking his big finger in warning at the&lt;br /&gt;aged man.  "Mind you 'no _bread_ with the cheese.&lt;br /&gt;All the devastating ruin wrought by cheese and the&lt;br /&gt;once happy homes of this country, has been due to&lt;br /&gt;the reckless and insane experiment of eating bread&lt;br /&gt;with it.'  You'll get no bread from me, my friend.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, Lord Ivywood has given directions that the&lt;br /&gt;allusion to this ignorant and depraved habit shall be&lt;br /&gt;eliminated from the Lord's Prayer.  Have a drink."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had already poured out a little of the spirit into&lt;br /&gt;two thick tumblers and a broken teacup, which he had&lt;br /&gt;induced the aged man to produce; and now solemnly&lt;br /&gt;pledged him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank ye kindly, sir," said the old man, using&lt;br /&gt;his cracked voice for the first time.  Then he drank;&lt;br /&gt;and his old face changed as if it were an old horn&lt;br /&gt;lantern in which the flame began to rise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ar," he said.  "My son he be a sailor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish him a happy voyage," said the Captain.&lt;br /&gt;"And I'll sing you a song about the first sailor there&lt;br /&gt;ever was in the world; and who (as Lord Ivywood&lt;br /&gt;acutely observes) lived before the time of rum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sat down on a wooden chair and lifted his loud&lt;br /&gt;voice once more, beating on the table with the broken&lt;br /&gt;tea-cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Old Noah, he had an ostrich farm, and fowls on the&lt;br /&gt;    greatest scale;&lt;br /&gt; He ate his egg with a ladle in an egg-cup big as a pail,&lt;br /&gt; And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and the fish he&lt;br /&gt;    took was Whale;&lt;br /&gt; But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set&lt;br /&gt;    out to sail;&lt;br /&gt; And Noah, he often said to his wife when he sat down to&lt;br /&gt;    dine,&lt;br /&gt; 'I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the&lt;br /&gt;    wine.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the&lt;br /&gt;    brink,&lt;br /&gt; As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink,&lt;br /&gt; The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of&lt;br /&gt;    hell to drink,&lt;br /&gt; And Noah, he cocked his eye and said, 'It looks like rain,&lt;br /&gt;    I think,&lt;br /&gt; The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a&lt;br /&gt;    Mendip mine,&lt;br /&gt; But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into&lt;br /&gt;    the wine.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we&lt;br /&gt;    trod,&lt;br /&gt; Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod,&lt;br /&gt; And you can't get wine at a P. S. A. or chapel or&lt;br /&gt;    Eisteddfod;&lt;br /&gt; For the Curse of Water has come again because of the&lt;br /&gt;    wrath of God,&lt;br /&gt; And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's&lt;br /&gt;    shrine,&lt;br /&gt; But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into&lt;br /&gt;    the wine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywood's favourite song," concluded Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Dalroy, drinking.  "Sing us a song yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather to the surprise of the two humourists, the old&lt;br /&gt;gentleman actually began in a quavering voice to&lt;br /&gt;chant,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "King George that lives in London Town,&lt;br /&gt;     I hope they will defend his crown,&lt;br /&gt;     And Bonyparte be quite put down&lt;br /&gt;     On Christmas Day in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Old Squire is gone to the Meet today&lt;br /&gt;     All in his--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is perhaps fortunate for the rapidity of this&lt;br /&gt;narrative that the old gentleman's favourite song, which&lt;br /&gt;consists of forty-seven verses, was interrupted by a&lt;br /&gt;curious incident.  The door of the cottage opened and&lt;br /&gt;a sheepish-looking man in corduroys stood silently in&lt;br /&gt;the room for a few seconds and then said, without&lt;br /&gt;preface or further explanation,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Four ale."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I beg your pardon?" inquired the polite Captain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Four ale," said the man with solidity; then catching&lt;br /&gt;sight of Humphrey seemed to find a few more&lt;br /&gt;words in his vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Morning, Mr. Pump.  Didn't know as how you'd&lt;br /&gt;moved 'The Old Ship.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Pump, with a twist of a smile, pointed to the&lt;br /&gt;old man whose song had been interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Marne's seeing after it now, Mr. Gowl," said&lt;br /&gt;Pump with the strict etiquette of the country side.&lt;br /&gt;"But he's got nothing but this rum in stock as yet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Better'nowt," said the laconic Mr. Gowl; and put&lt;br /&gt;down some money in front of the aged Marne, who&lt;br /&gt;eyed it wonderingly.  As he was turning with a farewell&lt;br /&gt;and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand,&lt;br /&gt;the door once more moved, letting in white sunlight and&lt;br /&gt;a man in a red neckerchief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Morning, Mr. Marne; Morning, Mr. Pump; Morning,&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Gowl," said the man in the red neckerchief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Morning, Mr. Coote," said the other three, one&lt;br /&gt;after another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have some rum, Mr. Coote?" asked Humphrey&lt;br /&gt;Pump, genially.  "That's all Mr. Marne's got just&lt;br /&gt;now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Coote also had a little rum; and also laid a&lt;br /&gt;little money under the rather vague gaze of the&lt;br /&gt;venerable cottager.  Mr. Coote was just proceeding to&lt;br /&gt;explain that these were bad times, but if you saw a&lt;br /&gt;sign you were all right still; a lawyer up at Grunton&lt;br /&gt;Abbot had told him so; when the company was increased&lt;br /&gt;and greatly excited by the arrival of a boisterous&lt;br /&gt;and popular tinker, who ordered glasses all round&lt;br /&gt;and said he had his donkey and cart outside.  A prolonged,&lt;br /&gt;rich and confused conversation about the donkey&lt;br /&gt;and cart then ensued, in which the most varied&lt;br /&gt;views were taken of their merits; and it gradually&lt;br /&gt;began to dawn on Dalroy that the tinker was trying to&lt;br /&gt;sell them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An idea, suited to the romantic opportunism of his&lt;br /&gt;present absurd career, suddenly swept over his mind,&lt;br /&gt;and he rushed out to look at the cart and donkey.&lt;br /&gt;The next moment he was back again, asking the tinker&lt;br /&gt;what his price was, and almost in the same breath&lt;br /&gt;offering a much bigger price than the tinker would&lt;br /&gt;have dreamed of asking.  This was considered, however,&lt;br /&gt;as a lunacy specially allowed to gentlemen; the&lt;br /&gt;tinker had some more rum on the strength of the&lt;br /&gt;payment, and then Dalroy, offering his excuses, sealed up&lt;br /&gt;the cask and took it and the cheese to be stowed in the&lt;br /&gt;bottom of the cart.  The money, however, he still left&lt;br /&gt;lying in shining silver and copper before the silver&lt;br /&gt;beard of old Marne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one acquainted with the quaint and often wordless&lt;br /&gt;camaraderie of the English poor will require to&lt;br /&gt;be told that they all went out and stared at him as he&lt;br /&gt;loaded the cart and saw to the harness of the donkey&lt;br /&gt;--all except the old cottager, who sat as if hypnotised&lt;br /&gt;by the sight of the money.  While they were standing&lt;br /&gt;there they saw coming down the white, hot road, where&lt;br /&gt;it curled over the hill, a figure that gave them no&lt;br /&gt;pleasure, even when it was a mere marching black spot&lt;br /&gt;in the distance.  It was a Mr. Bullrose, the agent of&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood's estates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bullrose was a short, square man with a broad,&lt;br /&gt;square head with ridges of close, black curls on it, with&lt;br /&gt;a heavy, froglike face and starting, suspicious eyes;&lt;br /&gt;a man with a good silk hat but a square business&lt;br /&gt;jacket.  Mr. Bullrose was not a nice man.  The agent on&lt;br /&gt;that sort of estate hardly ever is a nice man.  The&lt;br /&gt;landlord often is; and even Lord Ivywood had an&lt;br /&gt;arctic magnanimity of his own, which made most&lt;br /&gt;people want, if possible, to see him personally.  But Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Bullrose was petty.  Every really practical tyrant&lt;br /&gt;must be petty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He evidently failed to understand the commotion in&lt;br /&gt;front of Mr. Marne's partly collapsed cottage, but he&lt;br /&gt;felt there must be something wrong about it.  He&lt;br /&gt;wanted to get rid of the cottage altogether, and had&lt;br /&gt;not, of course, the faintest intention of giving the&lt;br /&gt;cottager any compensation for it.  He hoped the old man&lt;br /&gt;would die; but in any case he could easily clear&lt;br /&gt;him out if it became suddenly necessary, for he could&lt;br /&gt;not possibly pay the rent for this week.  The rent was&lt;br /&gt;not very much; but it was immeasurably too much for&lt;br /&gt;the old man who had no conceivable way of borrowing&lt;br /&gt;or earning it.  That is where the chivalry of our&lt;br /&gt;aristocratic land system comes in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good-bye, my friends," the enormous man in the&lt;br /&gt;fantastic uniform was saying, "all roads lead to rum,&lt;br /&gt;as Lord Ivywood said in one of his gayer moments,&lt;br /&gt;and we hope to be back soon, establishing a first&lt;br /&gt;class hotel here, of which prospectuses will soon be&lt;br /&gt;sent out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heavy froglike face of Mr. Bullrose, the agent,&lt;br /&gt;grew uglier with astonishment; and the eyes stood out&lt;br /&gt;more like a snail's than a frog's.  The indefensible&lt;br /&gt;allusion to Lord Ivywood would in any case have&lt;br /&gt;caused a choleric intervention, if it had not been&lt;br /&gt;swallowed up in the earthquake suggestion of an unlicensed&lt;br /&gt;hotel on the estate.  This again would have effected&lt;br /&gt;the explosion, if that and everything else had not been&lt;br /&gt;struck still and rigid by the sight of a solid, wooden&lt;br /&gt;sign-post already erected outside old Marne's&lt;br /&gt;miserable cottage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've got him now," muttered Mr. Bullrose.  "He&lt;br /&gt;can't possibly pay; and out he shall go."  And he&lt;br /&gt;walked swiftly towards the door of the cottage, almost&lt;br /&gt;at the same moment that Dalroy went to the donkey's&lt;br /&gt;head, as if to lead it off along the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look here, my man," burst out Bullrose, the instant&lt;br /&gt;he was inside the cottage.  "You've cooked yourself&lt;br /&gt;this time.  His lordship has been a great deal too&lt;br /&gt;indulgent with you; but this is going to be the end of&lt;br /&gt;it.  The insolence of what you've done outside,&lt;br /&gt;especially when you know his lordship's wishes in such&lt;br /&gt;things, has just put the lid on."  He stopped a&lt;br /&gt;moment and sneered.  "So unless you happen to have the&lt;br /&gt;exact rent down to a farthing or two about you, out&lt;br /&gt;you go.  We're sick of your sort."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a very awkward and fumbling manner, the old&lt;br /&gt;man pushed a heap of coins across the table.  Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Bullrose sat down suddenly on the wooden chair with&lt;br /&gt;his silk hat on, and began counting them furiously.&lt;br /&gt;He counted them once; he counted them twice; and&lt;br /&gt;he counted them again.  Then he stared at them more&lt;br /&gt;steadily than the cottager had done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where did you get this money?" he asked in a&lt;br /&gt;thick, gross voice.  "Did you steal it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I ain't very spry for stealin'," said the old man in&lt;br /&gt;quavering comedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bullrose looked at him and then at the money; and&lt;br /&gt;remembered with fury that Ivywood was a just though&lt;br /&gt;cold magistrate on the bench.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, anyhow," he cried, in a hot, heady way,&lt;br /&gt;"we've got enough against you to turn you out of this.&lt;br /&gt;Haven't you broken the law, my man, to say nothing&lt;br /&gt;of the regulations for tenants, in sticking up that fancy&lt;br /&gt;sign of yours outside the cottage?  Eh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tenant was silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Eh?" reiterated the agent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ar," replied the tenant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have you or have you not a sign-board outside&lt;br /&gt;this house?" shouted Bullrose, hammering the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tenant looked at him for a long time with a&lt;br /&gt;patient and venerable face, and then said: "Mubbe,&lt;br /&gt;yes.  Mubbe, no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll mubbe you," cried Mr. Bullrose, springing up&lt;br /&gt;and sticking his silk hat on the back of his head.  "I&lt;br /&gt;don't know whether you people are too drunk to see&lt;br /&gt;anything, but I saw the thing with my own eyes out in&lt;br /&gt;the road.  Come out, and deny it if you dare!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ar," said Mr. Marne, dubiously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tottered after the agent, who flung open the&lt;br /&gt;door with a businesslike fury and stood outside on the&lt;br /&gt;threshold.  He stood there quite a long time, and he&lt;br /&gt;did not speak.  Deep in the hardened mud of his&lt;br /&gt;materialistic mind there had stirred two things that were its&lt;br /&gt;ancient enemies; the old fairy tale in which every&lt;br /&gt;thing can be believed; the new scepticism in which&lt;br /&gt;nothing can be believed--not even one's own eyes.&lt;br /&gt;There was no sign, nor sign of a sign, in the landscape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the withered face of the old man Marne there&lt;br /&gt;was a faint renewal of that laughter that has slept&lt;br /&gt;since the Middle Ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER VI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE HOLE IN HEAVEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT delicate ruby light which is one of the rarest&lt;br /&gt;but one of the most exquisite of evening effects warmed&lt;br /&gt;the land, sky and seas as if the whole world were&lt;br /&gt;washed in wine; and dyed almost scarlet the strong&lt;br /&gt;red head of Patrick Dalroy as he stood on the waste&lt;br /&gt;of furze and bracken, where he and his friends had&lt;br /&gt;halted.  One of his friends was re-examining a short&lt;br /&gt;gun, rather like a double-barrelled carbine, the other&lt;br /&gt;was eating thistles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy himself was idle and ruminant, with his&lt;br /&gt;hands in his pockets and his eye on the horizon.&lt;br /&gt;Land-wards the hills, plains and woods lay bathed in the&lt;br /&gt;rose-red light; but it changed somewhat to purple, to&lt;br /&gt;cloud and something like storm over the distant violet&lt;br /&gt;strip of sea.  It was towards the sea that he was&lt;br /&gt;staring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly he woke up; and seemed almost to rub his&lt;br /&gt;eyes, or at any rate, to rub his red eyebrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why, we're on the road back of Pebblewick," he&lt;br /&gt;said.  "That's the damned little tin chapel by the&lt;br /&gt;beach."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know," answered his friend and guide.  "We've&lt;br /&gt;done the old hare trick; doubled, you know.  Nine&lt;br /&gt;times out of ten it's the best.  Parson Whitelady used&lt;br /&gt;to do it when they were after him for dog-stealing.&lt;br /&gt;I've pretty much followed his trail; you can't do better&lt;br /&gt;than stick to the best examples.  They tell you in&lt;br /&gt;London that Dick Turpin rode to York.  Well, I know he&lt;br /&gt;didn't; for my old grandfather up at Cobble's End&lt;br /&gt;knew the Turpins intimately--threw one of them into&lt;br /&gt;the river on a Christmas day; but I think I can guess&lt;br /&gt;what he did do and how the tale got about.  If Dick&lt;br /&gt;was wise, he went flying up the old North Road, shouting&lt;br /&gt;'York!  York!' or what not, before people recognised&lt;br /&gt;him; then if he did the thing properly, he might&lt;br /&gt;half an hour afterwards walk down the Strand with&lt;br /&gt;a pipe in his mouth.  They say old Boney said, 'Go&lt;br /&gt;where you aren't expected,' and I suppose as a soldier&lt;br /&gt;he was right.  But for a gentleman dodging the police&lt;br /&gt;like yourself, it isn't exactly the right way of putting&lt;br /&gt;it.  I should say, 'Go where you ought to be expected'&lt;br /&gt;--and you'll generally find your fellow creatures don't&lt;br /&gt;do what they ought about expecting any more than&lt;br /&gt;about anything else."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, this bit between here and the sea," said the&lt;br /&gt;Captain, in a brown study, "I know it so well--so&lt;br /&gt;well that--that I rather wish I'd never seen it again.&lt;br /&gt;Do you know," he asked, suddenly pointing to a patch&lt;br /&gt;and pit of sand that showed white in the dusky heath&lt;br /&gt;a hundred yards away, "do you know what makes&lt;br /&gt;that spot so famous in history?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," answered Mr. Pump, "that's where old&lt;br /&gt;Mother Grouch shot the Methodist."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are in error," said the Captain.  "Such an&lt;br /&gt;incident as you describe would in no case call for&lt;br /&gt;special comment or regret.  No, that spot is famous&lt;br /&gt;because a very badly brought up girl once lost a ribbon&lt;br /&gt;off a plait of black hair and somebody helped her&lt;br /&gt;to find it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Has the other person been well brought up?" asked&lt;br /&gt;Pump, with a faint smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said Dalroy, staring at the sea.  "He has been&lt;br /&gt;brought down."  Then, rousing himself again, he made&lt;br /&gt;a gesture toward a further part of the heath.  "Do&lt;br /&gt;you know the remarkable history of that old wall, the&lt;br /&gt;one beyond the last gorge over there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," replied the other, "unless you mean Dead&lt;br /&gt;Man's Circus, and that happened further along."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I do not mean Dead Man's Circus," said the&lt;br /&gt;Captain.  "The remarkable history of that wall is that&lt;br /&gt;somebody's shadow once fell on it; and that shadow&lt;br /&gt;was more desirable than the substance of all other&lt;br /&gt;living things.  It is _this_," he cried, almost violently,&lt;br /&gt;resuming his flippant tone, "it is this circumstance,&lt;br /&gt;Hump, and not the trivial and everyday incident of a&lt;br /&gt;dead man going to a circus to which you have presumed&lt;br /&gt;to compare it, it is _this_ historical event which&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood is about to commemorate by rebuilding&lt;br /&gt;the wall with solid gold and Greek marbles stolen by&lt;br /&gt;the Turks from the grave of Socrates, enclosing a&lt;br /&gt;column of solid gold four hundred feet high and&lt;br /&gt;surmounted by a colossal equestrian statue of a bankrupt&lt;br /&gt;Irishman riding backwards on a donkey."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lifted one of his long legs over the animal, as&lt;br /&gt;if about to pose for the group; then swung back on&lt;br /&gt;both feet again, and again looked at the purple limit&lt;br /&gt;of the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know, Hump," he said, "I think modern&lt;br /&gt;people have somehow got their minds all wrong about&lt;br /&gt;human life.  They seem to expect what Nature has&lt;br /&gt;never promised; and then try to ruin all that Nature&lt;br /&gt;has really given.  At all those atheist chapels of&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood's they're always talking of Peace, Perfect Peace,&lt;br /&gt;and Utter Peace, and Universal Joy and souls that&lt;br /&gt;beat as one.  But they don't look any more cheerful&lt;br /&gt;than anyone else; and the next thing they do is to&lt;br /&gt;start smashing a thousand good jokes and good stories&lt;br /&gt;and good songs and good friendships by pulling down&lt;br /&gt;'The Old Ship.'"  He gave a glance at the loose&lt;br /&gt;sign-post lying on the heath beside him, almost as if to&lt;br /&gt;reassure himself that it was not stolen.  "Now it seems&lt;br /&gt;to me," he went on, "that this is asking for too much&lt;br /&gt;and getting too little.  I don't know whether God&lt;br /&gt;means a man to have happiness in that All in All and&lt;br /&gt;Utterly Utter sense of happiness.  But God does mean&lt;br /&gt;a man to have a little Fun; and I mean to go on having&lt;br /&gt;it.  If I mustn't satisfy my heart, I can gratify my&lt;br /&gt;humour.  The cynical fellows who think themselves&lt;br /&gt;so damned clever have a sort of saying, 'Be good and&lt;br /&gt;you will be happy; but you will not have a jolly time.'&lt;br /&gt;The cynical fellows are quite wrong, as they generally&lt;br /&gt;are.  They have got hold of the exact opposite of the&lt;br /&gt;truth.  God knows I don't set up to be good; but even&lt;br /&gt;a rascal sometimes has to fight the world in the same&lt;br /&gt;way as a saint.  I think I have fought the world; _et&lt;br /&gt;militavi non sine_--what's the Latin for having a lark?&lt;br /&gt;I can't pretend to Peace and Joy, and all the rest of it,&lt;br /&gt;particularly in this original briar-patch.  I haven't been&lt;br /&gt;happy, Hump, but I have had a jolly time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sunset stillness settled down again, save for the&lt;br /&gt;cropping of the donkey in the undergrowth; and&lt;br /&gt;Pump said nothing sympathetically; and it was&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy once more who took up his parable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So I think there's too much of this playing on our&lt;br /&gt;emotions, Hump; as this place is certainly playing the&lt;br /&gt;cat and banjo with mine.  Damn it all, there are other&lt;br /&gt;things to do with the rest of one's life!  I don't like&lt;br /&gt;all this fuss about feeling things--it only makes&lt;br /&gt;people miserable.  In my present frame of mind I'm in&lt;br /&gt;favour of doing things.  All of which, Hump," he said&lt;br /&gt;with a sudden lift of the voice that always went in him&lt;br /&gt;with a rushing, irrational return of merely animal&lt;br /&gt;spirits--"All of which I have put into a Song Against&lt;br /&gt;Songs, that I will now sing you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I shouldn't sing it here," said Humphrey Pump,&lt;br /&gt;picking up his gun and putting it under his arm.  "You&lt;br /&gt;look large in this open place; and you sound large.&lt;br /&gt;But I'll take you to the Hole in Heaven you've been&lt;br /&gt;talking about so much, and hide you as I used to hide&lt;br /&gt;you from that tutor--I couldn't catch his name--man&lt;br /&gt;who could only get drunk on Greek wine at Squire&lt;br /&gt;Wimpole's."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hump!" cried the Captain, "I abdicate the throne&lt;br /&gt;of Ithaca.  You are far wiser than Ulysses.  Here&lt;br /&gt;I have had my heart torn with temptations to ten&lt;br /&gt;thousand things between suicide and abduction, and&lt;br /&gt;all by the mere sight of that hole in the heath, where&lt;br /&gt;we used to have picnics.  And all that time I'd forgotten&lt;br /&gt;we used to call it the Hole in Heaven.  And, by&lt;br /&gt;God, what a good name--in both senses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you'd have remembered it, Captain,"&lt;br /&gt;said the innkeeper, "from the joke young Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Matthews made."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In the heat of some savage hand to hand struggle&lt;br /&gt;in Albania," said Mr. Dalroy, sadly, passing his palm&lt;br /&gt;across his brow, "I must have forgotten for one fatal&lt;br /&gt;instant the joke young Mr. Matthews made."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It wasn't very good," said Mr. Pump, simply.&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, his aunt was the one for things like that.  She&lt;br /&gt;went too far with old Gudgeon, though."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With these words he jumped and seemed to be swallowed&lt;br /&gt;up by the earth.  But they had merely strolled&lt;br /&gt;the few yards needed to bring them to the edge of the&lt;br /&gt;sand-pit on the heath of which they had been speaking.&lt;br /&gt;And it is one of the truths concealed by Heaven from&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood, and revealed by Heaven to Mr. Pump,&lt;br /&gt;that a hiding-place can be covered when you are close&lt;br /&gt;to it; and yet be open and visible from some spot of&lt;br /&gt;vantage far off.  From the side by which they&lt;br /&gt;approached it, the sudden hollow of sand, a kind of&lt;br /&gt;collapsed chamber in the heath, seemed covered with a&lt;br /&gt;natural curve of fern and furze, and flashed out of&lt;br /&gt;sight like a fairy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's all right," he called out from under a floor&lt;br /&gt;or roof of leaves.  "You'll remember it all when you&lt;br /&gt;get here.  This is the place to sing your song, Captain.&lt;br /&gt;Lord bless me, Captain, don't I remember your singing&lt;br /&gt;that Irish song you made up at college--bellowing it&lt;br /&gt;like a bull of Bashan--all about hearts and sleeves or&lt;br /&gt;some such things--and her ladyship and the tutor&lt;br /&gt;never heard a breath, because that bank of sand breaks&lt;br /&gt;everything.  It's worth knowing all this, you know.&lt;br /&gt;It's a pity it's not part of a young gentleman's&lt;br /&gt;education.  Now you shall sing me the song in favour of&lt;br /&gt;having no feelings, or whatever you call it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy was staring about him at the cavern of his&lt;br /&gt;old picnics, so forgotten and so startlingly familiar.&lt;br /&gt;He seemed to have lost all thought of singing&lt;br /&gt;anything, and simply to be groping in the dark house&lt;br /&gt;of his own boyhood.  There was a slight trickle from&lt;br /&gt;a natural spring in sandstone just under the ferns,&lt;br /&gt;and he remembered they used to try to boil the water&lt;br /&gt;in a kettle.  He remembered a quarrel about who had&lt;br /&gt;upset the kettle which, in the morbidity of first love,&lt;br /&gt;had given him for days the tortures of the damned.&lt;br /&gt;When the energetic Pump broke once more through&lt;br /&gt;the rather thorny roof, on an impulse to accumulate&lt;br /&gt;their other eccentric possessions, Patrick remembered&lt;br /&gt;about a thorn in a finger, that made his heart stop&lt;br /&gt;with something that was pain and perfect music.&lt;br /&gt;When Pump returned with the rum-keg and the cheese&lt;br /&gt;and rolled them with a kick down the shelving sandy&lt;br /&gt;side of the hole, he remembered, with almost wrathful&lt;br /&gt;laughter, that in the old days he had rolled down&lt;br /&gt;that slope himself, and thought it a rather fine thing&lt;br /&gt;to do.  He felt then as if he were rolling down a&lt;br /&gt;smooth side of the Matterhorn.  He observed now that&lt;br /&gt;the height was rather less than that of the second&lt;br /&gt;storey of one of the stunted cottages he had noted on&lt;br /&gt;his return.  He suddenly understood he had grown&lt;br /&gt;bigger; bigger in a bodily sense.  He had doubts about&lt;br /&gt;any other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Hole in Heaven!" he said.  "What a good&lt;br /&gt;name!  What a good poet I was in those days!  The&lt;br /&gt;Hole in Heaven.  But does it let one in, or let one&lt;br /&gt;out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last level shafts of the fallen sun the&lt;br /&gt;fantastic shadow of the long-eared quadruped, whom&lt;br /&gt;Pump had now tethered to a new and nearer pasture,&lt;br /&gt;fell across the last sunlit scrap of sand.  Dalroy looked&lt;br /&gt;at the long exaggerated shadow of the ass; and laughed&lt;br /&gt;that short explosive laugh he had uttered when the&lt;br /&gt;doors of the harems had been closed after the Turkish&lt;br /&gt;war.  He was normally a man much too loquacious;&lt;br /&gt;but he never explained those laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humphrey Pump plunged down again into the sunken&lt;br /&gt;nest, and began to broach the cask of rum in his&lt;br /&gt;own secret style, saying--&lt;br /&gt;"We can get something else somehow tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;For tonight we can eat cheese and drink rum,&lt;br /&gt;especially as there's water on tap, so to speak.  And now,&lt;br /&gt;Captain, sing us the Song Against Songs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Dalroy drank a little rum out of a small&lt;br /&gt;medicine glass which the generally unaccountable Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Pump unaccountably produced from his waistcoat&lt;br /&gt;pocket; but Patrick's colour had risen, his brow was&lt;br /&gt;almost as red as his hair; and he was evidently&lt;br /&gt;reluctant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't see why I should sing all the songs," he&lt;br /&gt;said.  "Why the divil don't you sing a song&lt;br /&gt;yourself?  And now I come to think of it," he cried, with&lt;br /&gt;an accumulating brogue, not, perhaps, wholly&lt;br /&gt;unaffected by the rum, which he had not, in fact, drunk&lt;br /&gt;for years, "and now I come to think of it, what about&lt;br /&gt;that song of yours?  All me youth's coming back in this&lt;br /&gt;blest and cursed place; and I remember that song of&lt;br /&gt;yours, that never existed nor ever will.  Don't ye&lt;br /&gt;remember now, Humphrey Pump, that night when I&lt;br /&gt;sang ye no less than seventeen songs of me own&lt;br /&gt;composition?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I remember it very well," answered the&lt;br /&gt;Englishman, with restraint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And don't ye remember," went on the exhilarated&lt;br /&gt;Irishman, with solemnity, "that unless ye could&lt;br /&gt;produce a poetic lyric of your own, written and sung by&lt;br /&gt;yourself, I threatened to . . ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To sing again," said the impenetrable Pump.  "Yes,&lt;br /&gt;I know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He calmly proceeded to take out of his pockets,&lt;br /&gt;which were, alas, more like those of a poacher than&lt;br /&gt;an innkeeper, a folded and faded piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wrote it when you asked me," he said simply.&lt;br /&gt;"I have never tried to sing it.  But I'll sing it myself,&lt;br /&gt;when you've sung your song, against anybody singing&lt;br /&gt;at all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All right," cried the somewhat excited Captain, "to&lt;br /&gt;hear a song from you--why, I'll sing anything.  This&lt;br /&gt;is the Song Against Songs, Hump."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And again he let his voice out like a bellow against&lt;br /&gt;the evening silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The song of the sorrow of Melisande is a weary song and&lt;br /&gt;     a dreary song,&lt;br /&gt;  The glory of Mariana's grange had got into great decay,&lt;br /&gt; The song of the Raven Never More has never been called&lt;br /&gt;     a cheery song,&lt;br /&gt;  And the brightest things in Baudelaire are anything else&lt;br /&gt;     but gay.&lt;br /&gt;   But who will write us a riding song,&lt;br /&gt;   Or a hunting song or a drinking song,&lt;br /&gt;   Fit for them that arose and rode,&lt;br /&gt;   When day and the wine were red?&lt;br /&gt;   But bring me a quart of claret out,&lt;br /&gt;   And I will write you a clinking song,&lt;br /&gt;   A song of war and a song of wine,&lt;br /&gt;   And a song to wake the dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The song of the fury of Fragolette is a florid song and a&lt;br /&gt;     torrid song,&lt;br /&gt;  The song of the sorrow of Tara is sung to a harp&lt;br /&gt;     unstrung,&lt;br /&gt; The song of the cheerful Shropshire Kid I consider a&lt;br /&gt;     perfectly horrid song,&lt;br /&gt;  And the song of the happy Futurist is a song that can't&lt;br /&gt;     be sung.&lt;br /&gt;   But who will write us a riding song,&lt;br /&gt;   Or a fighting song or a drinking song,&lt;br /&gt;   Fit for the fathers of you and me,&lt;br /&gt;   That knew how to think and thrive?&lt;br /&gt;   But the song of Beauty and Art and Love&lt;br /&gt;   Is simply an utterly stinking song,&lt;br /&gt;   To double you up and drag you down,&lt;br /&gt;   And damn your soul alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take some more rum," concluded the Irish officer,&lt;br /&gt;affably, "and let's hear your song at last."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the gravity inseparable from the deep&lt;br /&gt;conventionality of country people, Mr. Pump unfolded the&lt;br /&gt;paper on which he had recorded the only antagonistic&lt;br /&gt;emotion that was strong enough in him to screw his&lt;br /&gt;infinite English tolerance to the pitch of song.  He&lt;br /&gt;read out the title very carefully and in full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Song Against Grocers, by Humphrey Pump, sole&lt;br /&gt;proprietor of 'The Old Ship,' Pebblewick.  Good&lt;br /&gt;Accommodation for Man and Beast.  Celebrated as&lt;br /&gt;the House at which both Queen Charlotte and&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan Wilde put up on different occasions; and where&lt;br /&gt;the Ice-cream man was mistaken for Bonaparte.  This&lt;br /&gt;song is written against Grocers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God made the wicked Grocer,&lt;br /&gt;  For a mystery and a sign,&lt;br /&gt; That men might shun the awful shops,&lt;br /&gt;  And go to inns to dine;&lt;br /&gt; Where the bacon's on the rafter&lt;br /&gt;  And the wine is in the wood,&lt;br /&gt; And God that made good laughter&lt;br /&gt;  Has seen that they are good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The evil-hearted Grocer&lt;br /&gt;  Would call his mother 'Ma'am,'&lt;br /&gt; And bow at her and bob at her,&lt;br /&gt;  Her aged soul to damn;&lt;br /&gt; And rub his horrid hands and ask,&lt;br /&gt;  What article was next;&lt;br /&gt; Though _mortis in articulo_,&lt;br /&gt;  Should be her proper text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"His props are not his children&lt;br /&gt;  But pert lads underpaid,&lt;br /&gt; Who call out 'Cash!' and bang about,&lt;br /&gt;  To work his wicked trade;&lt;br /&gt; He keeps a lady in a cage,&lt;br /&gt;  Most cruelly all day,&lt;br /&gt; And makes her count and calls her 'Miss,'&lt;br /&gt;  Until she fades away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The righteous minds of inn-keepers&lt;br /&gt;  Induce them now and then&lt;br /&gt; To crack a bottle with a friend,&lt;br /&gt;  Or treat unmoneyed men;&lt;br /&gt; But who hath seen the Grocer&lt;br /&gt;  Treat housemaids to his teas,&lt;br /&gt; Or crack a bottle of fish-sauce,&lt;br /&gt;  Or stand a man a cheese?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He sells us sands of Araby&lt;br /&gt;  As sugar for cash down,&lt;br /&gt; He sweeps his shop and sells the dust,&lt;br /&gt;  The purest salt in town;&lt;br /&gt; He crams with cans of poisoned meat&lt;br /&gt;  Poor subjects of the King,&lt;br /&gt; And when they die by thousands&lt;br /&gt;  Why, he laughs like anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Wicked Grocer groces&lt;br /&gt;  In spirits and in wine,&lt;br /&gt; Not frankly and in fellowship,&lt;br /&gt;  As men in inns do dine;&lt;br /&gt; But packed with soap and sardines&lt;br /&gt;  And carried off by grooms,&lt;br /&gt; For to be snatched by Duchesses,&lt;br /&gt;  And drunk in dressing-rooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The hell-instructed Grocer&lt;br /&gt;  Has a temple made of tin,&lt;br /&gt; And the ruin of good inn-keepers&lt;br /&gt;  Is loudly urged therein;&lt;br /&gt; But now the sands are running out&lt;br /&gt;  From sugar of a sort,&lt;br /&gt; The Grocer trembles; for his time&lt;br /&gt;  Just like his weight is short."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Dalroy was getting considerably heated&lt;br /&gt;with his nautical liquor, and his appreciation of&lt;br /&gt;Pump's song was not merely noisy but active.  He&lt;br /&gt;leapt to his feet and waved his glass.  "Ye ought to be&lt;br /&gt;Poet Laureate, Hump--ye're right, ye're right; we'll&lt;br /&gt;stand all this no longer!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He dashed wildly up the sand slope and pointed&lt;br /&gt;with the sign-post towards the darkening shore, where&lt;br /&gt;the low shed of corrugated iron stood almost isolated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's your tin temple!" he said.  "Let's burn&lt;br /&gt;it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were some way along the coast from the&lt;br /&gt;large watering-place of Pebblewick and between the&lt;br /&gt;gathering twilight and the rolling country it could not&lt;br /&gt;be clearly seen.  Nothing was now in sight but the&lt;br /&gt;corrugated iron hall by the beach and three half-built&lt;br /&gt;red brick villas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy appeared to regard the hall and the empty&lt;br /&gt;houses with great malevolence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look at it!" he said.  "Babylon!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He brandished the inn-sign in the air like a banner,&lt;br /&gt;and began to stride towards the place, showering&lt;br /&gt;curses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In forty days," he cried, "shall Pebblewick be&lt;br /&gt;destroyed.  Dogs shall lap the blood of J. Leveson,&lt;br /&gt;Secretary, and Unicorns--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Come back Pat," cried Humphrey, "you've had&lt;br /&gt;too much rum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lions shall howl in its high places," vociferated&lt;br /&gt;the Captain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Donkeys will howl, anyhow," said Pump.  "But&lt;br /&gt;I suppose the other donkey must follow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And loading and untethering the quadruped, he&lt;br /&gt;began to lead him along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER VII&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SOCIETY OF SIMPLE SOULS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UNDER sunset, at once softer and more sombre, under&lt;br /&gt;which the leaden sea took on a Lenten purple, a tint&lt;br /&gt;appropriate to tragedy, Lady Joan Brett was once&lt;br /&gt;more drifting moodily along the sea-front.  The evening&lt;br /&gt;had been rainy and lowering; the watering-place&lt;br /&gt;season was nearly over; and she was almost alone&lt;br /&gt;on the shore; but she had fallen into the habit of&lt;br /&gt;restlessly pacing the place, and it seemed to satisfy some&lt;br /&gt;subconscious hunger in her rather mixed psychology.&lt;br /&gt;Through all her brooding her animal senses always&lt;br /&gt;remained abnormally active: she could _smell_ the sea&lt;br /&gt;when it had ebbed almost to the horizon, and in the&lt;br /&gt;same way she heard, through every whisper of waves&lt;br /&gt;or wind, the swish or flutter of another woman's&lt;br /&gt;skirt behind her.  There is, she felt, something&lt;br /&gt;unmistakable about the movements of a lady who is&lt;br /&gt;generally very dignified and rather slow, and who happens&lt;br /&gt;to be in a hurry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turned to look at the lady who was thus hastening&lt;br /&gt;to overtake her; lifted her eyebrows a little and&lt;br /&gt;held out her hand.  The interruption was known to&lt;br /&gt;her as Lady Enid Wimpole, cousin of Lord Ivywood;&lt;br /&gt;a tall and graceful lady who unbalanced her own&lt;br /&gt;elegance by a fashionable costume that was at once&lt;br /&gt;funereal and fantastic; her fair hair was pale but&lt;br /&gt;plentiful; her face was not only handsome and&lt;br /&gt;fastidious in the aquiline style, but when considered&lt;br /&gt;seriously was sensitive, modest, and even pathetic, but&lt;br /&gt;her wan blue eyes seemed slightly prominent, with&lt;br /&gt;that expression of cold eagerness that is seen in the&lt;br /&gt;eyes of ladies who ask questions at public meetings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joan Brett was herself, as she had said, a connection&lt;br /&gt;of the Ivywood family; but Lady Enid was Ivywood's&lt;br /&gt;first cousin, and for all practical purposes his sister.&lt;br /&gt;For she kept house for him and his mother, who was&lt;br /&gt;now so incredibly old that she only survived to satisfy&lt;br /&gt;conventional opinion in the character of a speechless&lt;br /&gt;and useless _chaperon_.  And Ivywood was not the sort&lt;br /&gt;who would be likely to call out any activity in an old&lt;br /&gt;lady exercising that office.  Nor, for that matter, was&lt;br /&gt;Lady Enid Wimpole; there seemed to shine on her&lt;br /&gt;face the same kind of inhuman, absent-minded common&lt;br /&gt;sense that shone on her cousin's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I'm so glad I've caught you up," she said to&lt;br /&gt;Joan.  "Lady Ivywood wants you _so_ much to come to&lt;br /&gt;us for the week-end or so, while Philip is still there.&lt;br /&gt;He always admired your sonnet on Cyprus so much,&lt;br /&gt;and he wants to talk to you about this policy of his in&lt;br /&gt;Turkey.  Of course he's awfully busy, but I shall be&lt;br /&gt;seeing him tonight after the meeting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No living creature," said Lady Joan, with a smile,&lt;br /&gt;"ever saw him except before or after a meeting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you a Simple Soul?" asked Lady Enid, carelessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Am I a simple soul?" asked Joan, drawing her&lt;br /&gt;black brows together.  "Merciful Heavens, no!  What&lt;br /&gt;can you mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Their meeting's on tonight at the small Universal&lt;br /&gt;Hall, and Philip's taking the chair," explained the&lt;br /&gt;other lady.  "He's very annoyed that he has to leave&lt;br /&gt;early to get up to the House, but Mr. Leveson can&lt;br /&gt;take the chair for the last bit.  They've got Misysra&lt;br /&gt;Ammon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Got Mrs. Who?" asked Joan, in honest doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You make game of everything," said Lady Enid,&lt;br /&gt;in cheerless amiability.  "It's the man everyone's talking&lt;br /&gt;about--_you_ know as well as I do.  It's really his&lt;br /&gt;influence that has _made_ the Simple Souls."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh!" said Lady Joan Brett.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after a long silence, she added: "Who are the&lt;br /&gt;Simple Souls?  I should be interested in them, if I&lt;br /&gt;could meet any."  And she turned her dark, brooding&lt;br /&gt;face on the darkening purple sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you mean to say, my dear," asked Lady Enid&lt;br /&gt;Wimpole, "that you haven't met any of them yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said Joan, looking at the last dark line of sea.&lt;br /&gt;"I never met but one simple soul in my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But you must come to the meeting!" cried Lady&lt;br /&gt;Enid, with frosty and sparkling gaiety.  "You must&lt;br /&gt;come at once!  Philip is certain to be eloquent on a&lt;br /&gt;subject like this, and of course Misysra Ammon is&lt;br /&gt;_always_ so wonderful."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without any very distinct idea of where she was&lt;br /&gt;going or why she was going there, Joan allowed herself&lt;br /&gt;to be piloted to a low lead or tin shed, beyond the&lt;br /&gt;last straggling hotels, out of the echoing shell of which&lt;br /&gt;she could prematurely hear a voice that she thought&lt;br /&gt;she recognised.  When she came in Lord Ivywood was&lt;br /&gt;on his feet, in exquisite evening dress, but with a light&lt;br /&gt;overcoat thrown over the seat behind him.  Beside&lt;br /&gt;him, in less tasteful but more obvious evening dress,&lt;br /&gt;was the little old man she had heard on the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one else was on the platform, but just under it,&lt;br /&gt;rather to Joan's surprise, sat Miss Browning, her old&lt;br /&gt;typewriting friend in her old black dress, industriously&lt;br /&gt;taking down Lord Ivywood's words in shorthand.  A&lt;br /&gt;yard or two off, even more to her surprise, sat Miss&lt;br /&gt;Browning's more domestic sister, also taking down the&lt;br /&gt;same words in shorthand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That is Misysra Ammon," whispered Lady Enid,&lt;br /&gt;earnestly, pointing a delicate finger at the little old man&lt;br /&gt;beside the chairman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know him," said Joan.  "Where's the umbrella?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;". . . at least evident," Lord Ivywood was saying,&lt;br /&gt;"that one of those ancestral impossibilities is no&lt;br /&gt;longer impossible.  The East and the West are one.&lt;br /&gt;The East is no longer East nor the West West; for&lt;br /&gt;a small isthmus has been broken, and the Atlantic and&lt;br /&gt;Pacific are a single sea.  No man assuredly has done&lt;br /&gt;more of this mighty work of unity than the brilliant&lt;br /&gt;and distinguished philosopher to whom you will have&lt;br /&gt;the pleasure of listening tonight; and I profoundly&lt;br /&gt;wish that affairs more practical, for I will not call&lt;br /&gt;them more important, did not prevent my remaining&lt;br /&gt;to enjoy his eloquence, as I have so often enjoyed it&lt;br /&gt;before.  Mr. Leveson has kindly consented to take&lt;br /&gt;my place, and I can do no more than express my deep&lt;br /&gt;sympathy with the aims and ideals which will be&lt;br /&gt;developed before you tonight.  I have long been&lt;br /&gt;increasingly convinced that underneath a certain mask&lt;br /&gt;of stiffness which the Mahommedan religion has worn&lt;br /&gt;through certain centuries, as a somewhat similar mask&lt;br /&gt;has been worn by the religion of the Jews, Islam has&lt;br /&gt;in it the potentialities of being the most progressive of&lt;br /&gt;all religions; so that a century or two to come we may&lt;br /&gt;see the cause of peace, of science and of reform&lt;br /&gt;everywhere supported by Islam as it is everywhere&lt;br /&gt;supported by Israel.  Not in vain, I think, is the symbol&lt;br /&gt;of that faith the Crescent, the growing thing.  While&lt;br /&gt;other creeds carry emblems implying more or less of&lt;br /&gt;finality, for this great creed of hope its very imperfection&lt;br /&gt;is its pride, and men shall walk fearlessly in new&lt;br /&gt;and wonderful paths, following the increasing curve&lt;br /&gt;which contains and holds up before them the eternal&lt;br /&gt;promises of the orb."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was characteristic of Lord Ivywood that, though&lt;br /&gt;he was really in a hurry, he sat down slowly and&lt;br /&gt;gravely amid the outburst of applause.  The quiet&lt;br /&gt;resumption of the speaker's seat, like the applause itself,&lt;br /&gt;was an artistic part of the peroration.  When the last&lt;br /&gt;clap or stamp had subsided, he sprang up alertly, his&lt;br /&gt;light great-coat over his arm, shook hands with the&lt;br /&gt;lecturer, bowed to the audience and slid quickly out of&lt;br /&gt;the hall.  Mr. Leveson, the swarthy young man with&lt;br /&gt;the drooping double-eyeglass rather bashfully to the&lt;br /&gt;front, took the empty seat on the platform, and in a&lt;br /&gt;few words presented the eminent Turkish mystic&lt;br /&gt;Misysra Ammon, sometimes called the Prophet of the&lt;br /&gt;Moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan found the Prophet's English accent somewhat&lt;br /&gt;improved by good society, but he still elongated&lt;br /&gt;the letter "u" in the same bleating manner, and his&lt;br /&gt;remarks had exactly the same rabidly wrong-headed&lt;br /&gt;ingenuity as his lecture upon English inns.  It &lt;br /&gt;appeared that he was speaking on the higher Polygamy;&lt;br /&gt;but he began with a sort of general defence of the&lt;br /&gt;Moslem civilisation, especially against the charge of&lt;br /&gt;sterility and worldly ineffectiveness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It iss joost in the practical tings," he was saying, "it iss joost in&lt;br /&gt;the practical tings, if you could come to consider them in a manner&lt;br /&gt;quite equal, that our methods are better than your methods.  My&lt;br /&gt;ancestors invented the curved swords, because one cuts better with a&lt;br /&gt;curved sword.  Your ancestors possessed the straight swords out of&lt;br /&gt;some romantic fancy of being what you call straight; or, I will take a&lt;br /&gt;more plain example, of which I have myself experience.  When I first&lt;br /&gt;had the honour of meeting Lord Ivywood, I was unused to your various&lt;br /&gt;ceremonies and had a little difficulty, joost a little difficulty, in&lt;br /&gt;entering Mr.  Claridge's hotel, where his lordship had invited me.  A&lt;br /&gt;servant of the hotel was standing joost beside me on the doorstep.  I&lt;br /&gt;stoo-ooped down to take off my boo-oots, and he asked me what I was&lt;br /&gt;dooing.  I said to him: 'My friend, I am taking off my boo-oots.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A smothered sound came from Lady Joan Brett,&lt;br /&gt;but the lecturer did not notice it and went on with a&lt;br /&gt;beautiful simplicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I told him that in my country, when showing&lt;br /&gt;respect for any spot, we do not take off our hats; we take&lt;br /&gt;off our boo-oots.  And because I would keep on my&lt;br /&gt;hat and take off my boo-oots, he suggested to me that&lt;br /&gt;I had been afflicted by Allah, in the head.  Now was not&lt;br /&gt;that foony?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very," said Lady Joan, inside her handkerchief,&lt;br /&gt;for she was choking with laughter.  Something like a&lt;br /&gt;faint smile passed over the earnest faces of the two&lt;br /&gt;or three most intelligent of the Simple Souls, but for&lt;br /&gt;the most part the Souls seemed very simple indeed,&lt;br /&gt;helpless looking people with limp hair and gowns like&lt;br /&gt;green curtains, and their dry faces were as dry as&lt;br /&gt;ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I explained to him.  I explained to him for a long time, for a&lt;br /&gt;carefully occupied time, that it was more practical, more&lt;br /&gt;business-like, more altogether for utility, to take off the boo-oots&lt;br /&gt;than to remove the hat.  'Let us,' I said to him, 'consider what many&lt;br /&gt;complaints are made against the footwear, what few complaints against&lt;br /&gt;the headwear.  You complain if in your drawing-rooms is the marching&lt;br /&gt;about of muddy boo-oots.  Are any of your drawing-rooms marked thus&lt;br /&gt;with the marching about of muddy hats?  How very many of your husbands&lt;br /&gt;kick you with the boo-oot!  Yet how few of your husbands on any&lt;br /&gt;occasion butt you with the hat?'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked round with a radiant seriousness, which&lt;br /&gt;made Lady Joan almost as speechless for sympathy&lt;br /&gt;as she was for amusement.  With all that was most&lt;br /&gt;sound in his too complicated soul she realised the&lt;br /&gt;presence of a man really convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The man on the doorstep, he would not listen to&lt;br /&gt;me," went on Misysra Ammon, pathetically.  "He said&lt;br /&gt;there would be a crowd if I stood on the doorstep,&lt;br /&gt;holding in my hand my boo-oots.  Well, I do not know&lt;br /&gt;why, in your country you always send the young&lt;br /&gt;males to be the first of your crowds.  They certainly&lt;br /&gt;were making a number of noises, the young males."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan Brett stood up suddenly and displayed&lt;br /&gt;enormous interest in the rest of the audience in the&lt;br /&gt;back parts of the hall.  She felt that if she looked for&lt;br /&gt;one moment more at the serious face with the Jewish&lt;br /&gt;nose and the Persian beard, she would publicly&lt;br /&gt;disgrace herself; or, what was quite as bad (for she was&lt;br /&gt;the generous sort of aristocrat) publicly insult the&lt;br /&gt;lecturer.  She had a feeling that the sight of all the&lt;br /&gt;Simple Souls in bulk might have a soothing effect.  It&lt;br /&gt;had.  It had what might have been mistaken for a&lt;br /&gt;depressing effect.  Lady Joan resumed her seat with a&lt;br /&gt;controlled countenance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, why," asked the Eastern philosopher, "do I&lt;br /&gt;tell so simple a little story of your London streets--a&lt;br /&gt;thing happening any day?  The little mistake had no&lt;br /&gt;preju-udicial effect.  Lord Ivywood came out, at the&lt;br /&gt;end.  He made no attempt to explain the true view of&lt;br /&gt;so important matters to Mr. Claridge's servant, though&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Claridge's servant remained on the doorstep.&lt;br /&gt;But he commanded Mr. Claridge's servant to&lt;br /&gt;restore to me one of my boo-oots, which had fallen&lt;br /&gt;down the front steps, while I was explaining this&lt;br /&gt;harmlessness of the hat in the home.  So all was, for me,&lt;br /&gt;very well.  But why do I tell such little tales?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spread out his hands again, in his fanlike&lt;br /&gt;eastern style.  Then he clapped them together, so suddenly&lt;br /&gt;that Joan jumped, and looked instinctively for the&lt;br /&gt;entrance of five hundred negro slaves, laden with jewels.&lt;br /&gt;But it was only his emphatic gesture of eloquence.&lt;br /&gt;He went on with an excited thickening of the accent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because, my friends, this is the best example I&lt;br /&gt;could give of the wrong and slanderous character of&lt;br /&gt;the charge that we fail in our domesticities.  That we&lt;br /&gt;fail especially in our treatment of the womankind.  I&lt;br /&gt;appeal to any lady, to any Christian lady.  Is not the&lt;br /&gt;boo-oot more devastating, more dreaded in the home&lt;br /&gt;than the hat?  The boot jumps, he bound, he run about,&lt;br /&gt;he break things, he leave on the carpet the earths of&lt;br /&gt;the garden.  The hat, he remain quiet on his hat-peg.&lt;br /&gt;Look at him on his hat-peg; how quiet and good he&lt;br /&gt;remain!  Why not let him remain quiet also on his&lt;br /&gt;head?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan applauded warmly, as did several other&lt;br /&gt;ladies, and the sage went on, encouraged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you not therefore trust, dear ladies, this great&lt;br /&gt;religion to understand you concerning other things,&lt;br /&gt;as it understands you regarding boo-oots?  What is&lt;br /&gt;the common objection our worthy enemies make&lt;br /&gt;against our polygamy?  That it is disdainful of the&lt;br /&gt;womanhood.  But how can this be so, my friends,&lt;br /&gt;when it allows the womanhood to be present in so&lt;br /&gt;large numbers?  When in your House of Commons&lt;br /&gt;you put a hundred English members and joost one little&lt;br /&gt;Welsh member, you do not say 'The Welshman is on&lt;br /&gt;top; he is our Sultan; may he live for ever!'  If your&lt;br /&gt;jury contained eleven great large ladies and one leetle&lt;br /&gt;man you would not say 'this is unfair to the great&lt;br /&gt;large ladies.'  Why should you shrink, then, ladies,&lt;br /&gt;from this great polygamical experiment which Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood himself--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joan's dark eyes were still fixed on the wrinkled,&lt;br /&gt;patient face of the lecturer, but every word of the rest&lt;br /&gt;of the lecture was lost to her.  Under her glowing&lt;br /&gt;Spanish tint she had turned pale with extraordinary&lt;br /&gt;emotions, but she did not stir a hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door of the hall stood open, and occasional&lt;br /&gt;sounds came even from that deserted end of the town.&lt;br /&gt;Two men seemed to be passing along the distant&lt;br /&gt;parade; one of them was singing.  It was common enough&lt;br /&gt;for workmen to sing going home at night, and the&lt;br /&gt;voice, though a loud one, would have been too far off&lt;br /&gt;for Joan to hear the words.  Only Joan happened to&lt;br /&gt;know the words.  She could almost see them before&lt;br /&gt;her, written in a round swaggering hand on the pink&lt;br /&gt;page of an old school-girl album at home.  She knew&lt;br /&gt;the words and the voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my sleeve,&lt;br /&gt; And any sword or pistol boy can hit ut with me leave,&lt;br /&gt; It shines there for an epaulette, as golden as a flame,&lt;br /&gt; As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name.&lt;br /&gt; For I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my&lt;br /&gt;    sleeve,&lt;br /&gt; But a lady stole it from me on St. Gallowglass's Eve."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Startlingly and with strong pain there sprang up&lt;br /&gt;before Joan's eyes a patch of broken heath with a very&lt;br /&gt;deep hollow of white sand, blinding in the sun.  No&lt;br /&gt;words, no name, only the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The folks that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots;&lt;br /&gt; They go to Hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots.&lt;br /&gt; Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may&lt;br /&gt;    dance all day;&lt;br /&gt; And men may not be smokin', but only chimneys may.&lt;br /&gt; But I come from Castlepatrick and my heart is on my&lt;br /&gt;    sleeve,&lt;br /&gt; But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleyander's Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The folks that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their&lt;br /&gt;    mouth;&lt;br /&gt; They see us making murders in the meadows of the South;&lt;br /&gt; They think a plough's a rack they do, and cattle-calls are&lt;br /&gt;    creeds,&lt;br /&gt; And they think we're burnin' witches when we're only&lt;br /&gt;    burnin' weeds.&lt;br /&gt; But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me&lt;br /&gt;    sleeve;&lt;br /&gt; But a lady stole it from me on St. Barnabas's Eve."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice had stopped suddenly, but the last lines&lt;br /&gt;were so much more distinct that it was certain the&lt;br /&gt;singer had come nearer, and was not marching away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only after all this, and through a sort of&lt;br /&gt;cloud, that Lady Joan heard the indomitable Oriental&lt;br /&gt;bringing his whole eloquent address to a conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;". . .  And if you do not refu-use the sun that&lt;br /&gt;returns and rises in the East with every morning, you&lt;br /&gt;will not refu-use either this great social experiment,&lt;br /&gt;this great polygamical method which also arose out&lt;br /&gt;of the East, and always returns.  For this is that&lt;br /&gt;Higher Polygamy which always comes, like the sun&lt;br /&gt;itself, out of the orient, but is only at its noontide&lt;br /&gt;splendour when the sun is high in heaven."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was but vaguely conscious of Mr. Leveson, the&lt;br /&gt;man with the dark face and the eyeglasses, acknowledging&lt;br /&gt;the entrancing lecture in suitable terms, and&lt;br /&gt;calling on any of the Simple Souls who might have&lt;br /&gt;questions to ask, to ask them.  It was only when the&lt;br /&gt;Simple Souls had displayed their simplicity with the&lt;br /&gt;usual parade of well-bred reluctance and fussy self-effacement, that anyone addressed the chair.  And it&lt;br /&gt;was only after somebody had been addressing the&lt;br /&gt;chair for some time that Joan gradually awoke to the&lt;br /&gt;fact that the address was somewhat unusual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER VIII&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VOX POPULI VOX DEI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I AM sure," Mr. Leveson, the Secretary, had said,&lt;br /&gt;with a somewhat constrained smile, "that after the&lt;br /&gt;eloquent and epoch-making speech to which we have&lt;br /&gt;listened there will be some questions asked, and we&lt;br /&gt;hope to have a debate afterwards.  I am sure somebody&lt;br /&gt;will ask a question."  Then he looked interrogatively&lt;br /&gt;at one weary looking gentleman in the fourth&lt;br /&gt;row and said, "Mr. Hinch?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Hinch shook his head with a pallid passion of&lt;br /&gt;refusal, wonderful to watch, and said, "I couldn't!&lt;br /&gt;I really couldn't!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We should be very pleased," said Mr. Leveson, "if&lt;br /&gt;any lady would ask a question."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the silence that followed it was somehow&lt;br /&gt;psychologically borne in on the whole audience that one&lt;br /&gt;particular great large lady (as the lecturer would say)&lt;br /&gt;sitting at the end of the second row was expected to&lt;br /&gt;ask a question.  Her own wax-work immobility was&lt;br /&gt;witness both to the expectation and its disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;"Are there any other questions?" asked Mr. Leveson&lt;br /&gt;--as if there had been any yet.  He seemed to speak&lt;br /&gt;with a slight air of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a sort of stir at the back of the hall and&lt;br /&gt;half way down one side of it.  Choked whispers&lt;br /&gt;could be heard of "Now then, Garge!"--"Go it&lt;br /&gt;Garge!  Is there any questions!  Gor!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Leveson looked up with an alertness somewhat&lt;br /&gt;akin to alarm.  He realised for the first time that a few&lt;br /&gt;quite common men in coarse, unclean clothes, had&lt;br /&gt;somehow strolled in through the open door.  They&lt;br /&gt;were not true rustics, but the semi-rustic labourers that&lt;br /&gt;linger about the limits of the large watering-places.&lt;br /&gt;There was no "Mr." among them.  There was a&lt;br /&gt;general tendency to call everybody George.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Leveson saw the situation and yielded to it.&lt;br /&gt;He modelled himself on Lord Ivywood and did much&lt;br /&gt;what he would have done in all cases, but with a&lt;br /&gt;timidity Lord Ivywood would not have shown.  And the&lt;br /&gt;same social training that made him ashamed to be&lt;br /&gt;with such men, made him ashamed to own his shame.&lt;br /&gt;The same modern spirit that taught him to loathe&lt;br /&gt;such rags, also taught him to lie about his loathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am sure we should be very glad," he said,&lt;br /&gt;nervously, "if any friends from outside care to join in&lt;br /&gt;our inquiry.  Of course, we're all Democrats," and&lt;br /&gt;he looked round at the grand ladies with a ghastly&lt;br /&gt;smile, "and believe in the Voice of the People and so&lt;br /&gt;on.  If our friend at the back of the hall will put his&lt;br /&gt;question briefly, we need not insist, I think, on his&lt;br /&gt;putting it in writing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were renewed hoarse encouragements to&lt;br /&gt;George (that rightly christened champion) and he&lt;br /&gt;wavered forward on legs tied in the middle with&lt;br /&gt;string.  He did not appear to have had any seat since&lt;br /&gt;his arrival, and made his remarks standing half way&lt;br /&gt;down what we may call the central aisle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I want to ask the proprietor," he began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Questions," said Mr. Leveson, swiftly seizing a&lt;br /&gt;chance for that construction of debate which is the&lt;br /&gt;main business of a modern chairman, "must be asked&lt;br /&gt;of the chair, if they are points of order.  If they&lt;br /&gt;concern the address, they should be asked of the lecturer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I ask the lecturer," said the patient Garge,&lt;br /&gt;"whether it ain't right that when you 'ave the thing&lt;br /&gt;outside you should 'ave the thing inside."  (Hoarse&lt;br /&gt;applause at the back.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Leveson was evidently puzzled and already&lt;br /&gt;suspicious that something was quite wrong.  But the&lt;br /&gt;enthusiasm of the Prophet of the Moon sprang up&lt;br /&gt;instantly at any sort of question and swept the&lt;br /&gt;Chairman along with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But it iss the essence of our who-ole message," he&lt;br /&gt;cried, spreading out his arms to embrace the world,&lt;br /&gt;"that the outer manifestation should be one with the&lt;br /&gt;inner manifestation.  My friendss, it iss this very&lt;br /&gt;tru-uth our friend has stated, that iss responsible for&lt;br /&gt;our apparent lack of symbolism in Islam!  We appear&lt;br /&gt;to neglect the symbol because we insist on the&lt;br /&gt;satisfactory symbol.  My friend in the middle will&lt;br /&gt;walk round all our mosques and say loudly, 'Where is&lt;br /&gt;the statue of Allah?'  But can my friend in the middle&lt;br /&gt;really execute a complete and generally approved&lt;br /&gt;statue of Allah?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Misysra Ammon sat down greatly satisfied with&lt;br /&gt;his answer, but it was doubted by many whether, he&lt;br /&gt;had conveyed the satisfaction to his friend in the&lt;br /&gt;middle.  That seeker after truth wiped his mouth with&lt;br /&gt;the back of his hand with an unsatisfied air and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No offence, sir.  But ain't it the Law, sir, that if&lt;br /&gt;you 'ave that outside we're all right?  I came in 'ere&lt;br /&gt;as natural as could be.  But Gorlumme, I never see a&lt;br /&gt;place like this afore."  (Hoarse laughter behind.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No apology is needed, my friend," cried the Eastern&lt;br /&gt;sage, eagerly, "I can conceive you are not perhaps&lt;br /&gt;du-uly conversant with such schools of truth.  But&lt;br /&gt;the Law is All.  The Law is Allah.  The inmost&lt;br /&gt;u-unity of--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, ain't it the Law?" repeated the dogged&lt;br /&gt;George, and every time he mentioned the Law the poor&lt;br /&gt;men who are its chief victims applauded loudly.  "I'm&lt;br /&gt;not one to make a fuss.  I never was one to make a&lt;br /&gt;fuss.  I'm a law-abidin' man, I am.  (More applause.)&lt;br /&gt;Ain't it the Law that if so be such is your sign and&lt;br /&gt;such is your profession, you ought to serve us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I fear I not quite follow," cried the eager Turk.&lt;br /&gt;"I ought?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To serve us," shouted a throng of thick voices&lt;br /&gt;from the back of the hall, which was already much&lt;br /&gt;more crowded than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Serve you!" cried Misysra, leaping up like a spring&lt;br /&gt;released, "The Holy Prophet came from Heaven to&lt;br /&gt;serve you!  The virtue and valour of a thousand&lt;br /&gt;years, my friends, has had no hunger but to serve you!&lt;br /&gt;We are of all faiths, the most the faith of service.&lt;br /&gt;Our highest prophet is no more than the servant of&lt;br /&gt;God, as I am, as you all are.  Even for our symbol&lt;br /&gt;we choose a satellite, and honour the Moon because it&lt;br /&gt;only serves the Earth, and does not pretend to be the&lt;br /&gt;Sun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sure," cried Mr. Leveson, jumping up with a&lt;br /&gt;tactful grin, "that the lecturer has answered this last&lt;br /&gt;point in a most eloquent and effective way, and the&lt;br /&gt;motor cars are waiting for some of the ladies who&lt;br /&gt;have come from some distance, and I really think the&lt;br /&gt;proceedings--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the artistic ladies were already getting on their&lt;br /&gt;wraps, with faces varying from bewilderment to blank&lt;br /&gt;terror.  Only Lady Joan lingered, trembling with&lt;br /&gt;unexplained excitement.  The hitherto speechless Hinch&lt;br /&gt;had slid up to the Chairman's seat and whispered to&lt;br /&gt;him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You must get all the ladies away.  I can't imagine&lt;br /&gt;what's up, but something's up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well?" repeated the patient George.  "So be it's&lt;br /&gt;the Law, where is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Mr. Leveson, in his&lt;br /&gt;most ingratiating manner, "I think we have had a most&lt;br /&gt;delightful evening, and--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, we ain't," cried a new and nastier voice from&lt;br /&gt;a corner of the room.  "Where is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's what we got a right to know," said the law-abiding George.  "Where is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where is what?" cried the nearly demented&lt;br /&gt;secretary in the chair.  "What do you want?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The law-abiding Mr. George made a half turn and&lt;br /&gt;a gesture towards the man in the corner and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's yours, Jim?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll 'ave a drop of Scotch," said the man in the&lt;br /&gt;corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Enid Wimpole, who had lingered a little in&lt;br /&gt;loyalty to Joan, the only other lady still left, caught&lt;br /&gt;both her wrists and cried in a thrilling whisper,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, we must go to the car, dear!  They're using the&lt;br /&gt;most awful language!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Away on the wettest edge of the sands by the sea the&lt;br /&gt;prints of two wheels and four hoofs were being slowly&lt;br /&gt;washed away by a slowly rising tide; which was,&lt;br /&gt;indeed, the only motive of the man Humphrey Pump,&lt;br /&gt;leading the donkey cart, in leading it almost ankle deep&lt;br /&gt;in water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I hope you're sober again now," he said with some&lt;br /&gt;seriousness to his companion, a huge man walking&lt;br /&gt;heavily and even humbly with a straight sword swinging&lt;br /&gt;to and fro at his hip--"for honestly it was a mug's&lt;br /&gt;game to go and stick up the old sign before that tin&lt;br /&gt;place.  I haven't often spoken to you like this,&lt;br /&gt;Captain, but I don't believe any other man in the county&lt;br /&gt;could get you out of the hole as I can.  But to go&lt;br /&gt;down there and frighten the ladies--why there's been&lt;br /&gt;nothing so silly here since Bishop's Folly.  You could&lt;br /&gt;hear the ladies screaming before we left."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I heard worse than that long before we left," said&lt;br /&gt;the large man, without lifting his head.  "I heard one&lt;br /&gt;of them laugh. . . .  Christ, do you think I shouldn't&lt;br /&gt;hear her laugh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a silence.  "I didn't mean to speak&lt;br /&gt;sharp," said Humphrey Pump with that incorruptible&lt;br /&gt;kindliness which was the root of his Englishry, and&lt;br /&gt;may yet save the soul of the English.  "But it's the&lt;br /&gt;truth I was pretty well bothered about how to get out&lt;br /&gt;of this business.  You're braver than I am, you see,&lt;br /&gt;and I own I was frightened about both of us.  If I&lt;br /&gt;hadn't known my way to the lost tunnel, I should be&lt;br /&gt;fairly frightened still."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Known your way to what?" asked the Captain,&lt;br /&gt;lifting his red head for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, you know all about No More Ivywood's lost&lt;br /&gt;tunnel," said Pump, carelessly.  "Why, we all used&lt;br /&gt;to look for it when we were boys.  Only I happened&lt;br /&gt;to find it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have mercy on an exile," said Dalroy, humbly.&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know which hurt him most, the things he&lt;br /&gt;forgets or the things he remembers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Pump was silent for a little while and then&lt;br /&gt;said, more seriously than usual, "Well, the people&lt;br /&gt;from London say you must put up placards and&lt;br /&gt;statues and subscriptions and epitaphs and the Lord&lt;br /&gt;knows what, to the people who've found some new&lt;br /&gt;trick and made it come off.  But only a man that&lt;br /&gt;knows his own land for forty miles round, knows&lt;br /&gt;what a lot of people, and clever people too, there were&lt;br /&gt;who found new tricks, and had to hide them because&lt;br /&gt;they didn't come off.  There was Dr. Boone, up by&lt;br /&gt;Gill-in-Hugby, who held out against Dr. Collison and&lt;br /&gt;the vaccination.  His treatment saved sixty patients&lt;br /&gt;who had got small-pox; and Dr. Collison's killed&lt;br /&gt;ninety-two patients who hadn't got anything.  But&lt;br /&gt;Boone had to keep it dark; naturally, because all his&lt;br /&gt;lady patients grew mustaches.  It was a result of the&lt;br /&gt;treatment.  But it wasn't a result he wishes to dwell&lt;br /&gt;on.  Then there was old Dean Arthur, who discovered&lt;br /&gt;balloons if ever a man did.  He discovered them&lt;br /&gt;long before they were discovered.  But people were&lt;br /&gt;suspicious about such things just then--there was a&lt;br /&gt;revival of the witch business in spite of all the parsons&lt;br /&gt;--and he had to sign a paper saying where he'd got the&lt;br /&gt;notion.  Well, it stands to reason, you wouldn't like to&lt;br /&gt;sign a paper saying you'd got it from the village idiot&lt;br /&gt;when you were both blowing soap-bubbles; and that's&lt;br /&gt;all he could have signed, for he was an honest gentleman,&lt;br /&gt;the poor old Dean.  Then there was Jack Arlingham&lt;br /&gt;and the diving bell--but you remember all about&lt;br /&gt;that.  Well, it was just the same with the man that&lt;br /&gt;made this tunnel--one of the mad Ivywoods.  There's&lt;br /&gt;many a man, Captain, that has a statue in the great&lt;br /&gt;London squares for helping to make the railway&lt;br /&gt;trains.  There's many a man has his name in&lt;br /&gt;Westminster Abbey for doing something in discovering&lt;br /&gt;steamboats.  Poor old Ivywood discovered both at&lt;br /&gt;once; and had to be put under control.  He had a&lt;br /&gt;notion that a railway train might be made to rush&lt;br /&gt;right into the sea and turn into a steamboat; and it&lt;br /&gt;seemed all right, according as he worked it out.  But&lt;br /&gt;his family were so ashamed of the thing, that they&lt;br /&gt;didn't like the tunnel even mentioned.  I don't think&lt;br /&gt;anybody knows where it is but me and Bunchy Robinson.&lt;br /&gt;We shall be there in a minute or two.  They've&lt;br /&gt;thrown the rocks about at this end; and let the thick&lt;br /&gt;plantation grow at the other, but I've got a race horse&lt;br /&gt;through before now, to save it from Colonel Chepstow's&lt;br /&gt;little games, and I think I can manage this&lt;br /&gt;donkey.  Honestly, I think it's the only place we'll&lt;br /&gt;be safe in after what we've left behind us at Pebblewick.&lt;br /&gt;But it's the best place in the world, there's no&lt;br /&gt;doubt, for lying low and starting afresh.  Here we&lt;br /&gt;are.  You think you can't get behind that rock, but&lt;br /&gt;you can.  In fact, you have."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy found himself, with some bewilderment,&lt;br /&gt;round the corner of a rock and in a long bore or&lt;br /&gt;barrel of blackness that ended in a very dim spot of&lt;br /&gt;green.  Hearing the hoofs of the ass and the feet of&lt;br /&gt;his friend behind him, he turned his head, but could&lt;br /&gt;see nothing but the pitch darkness of a closed coal&lt;br /&gt;cellar.  He turned again to the dim green speck, and&lt;br /&gt;marching forward was glad to see it grow larger and&lt;br /&gt;brighter, like a big emerald, till he came out on a&lt;br /&gt;throng of trees, mostly thin, but growing so thickly&lt;br /&gt;and so close to the cavernous entrance of the tunnel&lt;br /&gt;that it was quite clear the place was meant to be&lt;br /&gt;choked up by forests and forgotten.  The light that&lt;br /&gt;came glimmering through the trees was so broken&lt;br /&gt;and tremulous that it was hard to tell whether it was&lt;br /&gt;daybreak or moonrise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know there's water here," said Pump.  "They&lt;br /&gt;couldn't keep it out of the stone-work when they&lt;br /&gt;made the tunnel, and old Ivywood hit the hydraulic&lt;br /&gt;engineer with a spirit level.  With the bit of covert&lt;br /&gt;here and the sea behind us we ought to be able to get&lt;br /&gt;food of one kind or another, when the cheese has given&lt;br /&gt;out, and donkeys can eat anything.  By the way," he&lt;br /&gt;added with some embarrassment, "you don't mind my&lt;br /&gt;saying it, Captain, but I think we'd better keep that&lt;br /&gt;rum for rare occasions.  It's the best rum in England,&lt;br /&gt;and may be the last, if these mad games are going on.&lt;br /&gt;It'll do us good to feel it's there, so we can have it&lt;br /&gt;when we want it.  The cask's still nearly full."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy put out his hand and shook the other's.&lt;br /&gt;"Hump," he said, seriously, "you're right.  It's a&lt;br /&gt;sacred trust for Humanity; and we'll only drink it&lt;br /&gt;ourselves to celebrate great victories.  In token of&lt;br /&gt;which I will take a glass now, to celebrate our&lt;br /&gt;glorious victory over Leveson and his tin tabernacle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He drained one glass and then sat down on the&lt;br /&gt;cask, as if to put temptation behind him.  His blue&lt;br /&gt;ruminant bull's eye seemed to plunge deeper and deeper&lt;br /&gt;into the emerald twilight of the trees in front of him,&lt;br /&gt;and it was long before he spoke again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last he observed, "I think you said, Hump, that&lt;br /&gt;a friend of yours--a gentleman named Bunchy Robinson,&lt;br /&gt;I think--was also a _habituÈ_ here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, he knew the way," answered Pump, leading&lt;br /&gt;the donkey to the most suitable patch of pasturage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May we, do you think, have the pleasure of a visit&lt;br /&gt;from Mr. Robinson?" inquired the Captain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not unless they're jolly careless up in Blackstone&lt;br /&gt;Gaol," replied Pump.  And he moved the cheese well&lt;br /&gt;into the arch of the tunnel.  Dalroy still sat with his&lt;br /&gt;square chin on his hand, staring at the mystery of the&lt;br /&gt;little wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You seem absent-minded, Captain," remarked&lt;br /&gt;Humphrey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The deepest thoughts are all commonplaces," said&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy.  "That is why I believe in Democracy, which&lt;br /&gt;is more than you do, you foul blood-stained old British&lt;br /&gt;Tory.  And the deepest commonplace of all is that&lt;br /&gt;Vanitas Vanitatem, which is not pessimism but is&lt;br /&gt;really the opposite of pessimism.  It is man's futility&lt;br /&gt;that makes us feel he must be a god.  And I think&lt;br /&gt;of this tunnel, and how the poor old lunatic walked&lt;br /&gt;about on this grass, watching it being built, the soul&lt;br /&gt;in him on fire with the future.  And he saw the whole&lt;br /&gt;world changed and the seas thronged with his new&lt;br /&gt;shipping; and now," and Dalroy's voice changed and&lt;br /&gt;broke, "now there is good pasture for the donkey&lt;br /&gt;and it is very quiet here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," said Pump, in some way that conveyed his&lt;br /&gt;knowledge that the Captain was thinking of other&lt;br /&gt;things also.  The Captain went on dreamily:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And I think about another Lord Ivywood recorded&lt;br /&gt;in history who also had a great vision.  For it is a&lt;br /&gt;great vision after all, and though the man is a prig,&lt;br /&gt;he is brave.  He also wants to drive a tunnel--between&lt;br /&gt;East and West--to make the Indian Empire more&lt;br /&gt;British; to effect what he calls the orientation of&lt;br /&gt;England, and I call the ruin of Christendom.  And I am&lt;br /&gt;wondering just now whether the clear intellect and&lt;br /&gt;courageous will of a madman will be strong enough&lt;br /&gt;to burst and drive that tunnel, as everything seems to&lt;br /&gt;show at this moment that it will.  Or whether there&lt;br /&gt;be indeed enough life and growth in your England to&lt;br /&gt;leave it at last as this is left, buried in English forests&lt;br /&gt;and wasted by an English sea."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The silence fell between them again, and again there&lt;br /&gt;was only the slight sound the animal made in eating.&lt;br /&gt;As Dalroy had said, it was very quiet there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was not quiet in Pebblewick that night;&lt;br /&gt;when the Riot Act was read, and all the people who had&lt;br /&gt;seen the sign-board outside fought all the people who&lt;br /&gt;hadn't seen the sign-board outside; or when babies and&lt;br /&gt;scientists next morning, seeking for shells and other&lt;br /&gt;common objects of the sea-shore, found that their&lt;br /&gt;study included fragments of the outer clothing of&lt;br /&gt;Leveson and scraps of corrugated iron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER IX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE HIGHER CRITICISM AND MR. HIBBS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PEBBLEWICK boasted an enterprising evening paper&lt;br /&gt;of its own, called "The Pebblewick Globe," and it was&lt;br /&gt;the great vaunt of the editor's life that he had got out&lt;br /&gt;an edition announcing the mystery of the vanishing&lt;br /&gt;sign-board, almost simultaneously with its vanishing.&lt;br /&gt;In the rows that followed sandwich men found no little&lt;br /&gt;protection from the blows indiscriminately given&lt;br /&gt;them behind and before, in the large wooden boards&lt;br /&gt;they carried inscribed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        THE VANISHING PUB&lt;br /&gt;     PEBBLEWICK'S FAIRY TALE&lt;br /&gt;             SPECIAL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the paper contained a categorical and mainly&lt;br /&gt;correct account of what had happened, or what seemed&lt;br /&gt;to have happened, to the eyes of the amazed Garge&lt;br /&gt;and his crowd of sympathisers.  "George Burn,&lt;br /&gt;carpenter of this town, with Samuel Gripes, drayman in&lt;br /&gt;the service of Messrs. Jay and Gubbins, brewers,&lt;br /&gt;together with a number of other well-known residents,&lt;br /&gt;passed by the new building erected on the West Beach&lt;br /&gt;for various forms of entertainment and popularly&lt;br /&gt;called the small Universal Hall.  Seeing outside it&lt;br /&gt;one of the old inn-signs now so rare, they drew the&lt;br /&gt;quite proper inference that the place retained the&lt;br /&gt;license to sell alcoholic liquors, which so many other&lt;br /&gt;places in this neighbourhood have recently lost.  The&lt;br /&gt;persons inside, however, appear to have denied all&lt;br /&gt;knowledge of the fact, and when the party (after some&lt;br /&gt;regrettable scenes in which no life was lost) came out&lt;br /&gt;on the beach again, it was found that the inn-sign&lt;br /&gt;had been destroyed or stolen.  All parties were quite&lt;br /&gt;sober, and had indeed obtained no opportunity to be&lt;br /&gt;anything else.  The mystery is underlying inquiry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this comparatively realistic record was local and&lt;br /&gt;spontaneous, and owed not a little to the accidental&lt;br /&gt;honesty of the editor.  Moreover, evening papers are&lt;br /&gt;often more honest than morning papers, because they&lt;br /&gt;are written by ill-paid and hardworked underlings in&lt;br /&gt;a great hurry, and there is no time for more timid&lt;br /&gt;people to correct them.  By the time the morning&lt;br /&gt;papers came out next day a faint but perceptible change&lt;br /&gt;had passed over the story of the vanishing sign-board.&lt;br /&gt;In the daily paper which had the largest circulation and&lt;br /&gt;the most influence in that part of the world, the&lt;br /&gt;problem was committed to a gentleman known by what&lt;br /&gt;seemed to the non-journalistic world the singular&lt;br /&gt;name of Hibbs However.  It had been affixed to him&lt;br /&gt;in jest in connection with the almost complicated&lt;br /&gt;caution with which all his public criticisms were qualified&lt;br /&gt;at every turn; so that everything came to depend upon&lt;br /&gt;the conjunctions; upon "but" and "yet" and "though"&lt;br /&gt;and similar words.  As his salary grew larger (for&lt;br /&gt;editors and proprietors like that sort of thing) and his&lt;br /&gt;old friends fewer (for the most generous of friends&lt;br /&gt;cannot but feel faintly acid at a success which has in&lt;br /&gt;it nothing of the infectious flavour of glory) he grew&lt;br /&gt;more and more to value himself as a diplomatist; a&lt;br /&gt;man who always said the right thing.  But he was&lt;br /&gt;not without his intellectual nemesis; for at last he&lt;br /&gt;became so very diplomatic as to be darkly and densely&lt;br /&gt;unintelligible.  People who knew him had no difficulty&lt;br /&gt;in believing that what he had said was the right thing,&lt;br /&gt;the tactful thing, the thing that should save the&lt;br /&gt;situation; but they had great difficulty in discovering what&lt;br /&gt;it was.  In his early days he had had a great talent&lt;br /&gt;for one of the worst tricks of modern journalism, the&lt;br /&gt;trick of dismissing the important part of a question&lt;br /&gt;as if it could wait, and appearing to get to business on&lt;br /&gt;the unimportant part of it.  Thus, he would say,&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever we may think of the rights and wrongs of&lt;br /&gt;the vivisection of pauper children, we shall all agree&lt;br /&gt;that it should only be done, in any event, by fully qualified&lt;br /&gt;practitioners."  But in the later and darker days of&lt;br /&gt;his diplomacy, he seemed rather to dismiss the&lt;br /&gt;important part of a subject, and get to grips with some&lt;br /&gt;totally different subject, following some timid and&lt;br /&gt;elusive train of associations of his own.  In his late&lt;br /&gt;bad manner, as they say of painters, he was just as&lt;br /&gt;likely to say, "Whatever we may think of the rights&lt;br /&gt;and wrongs of the vivisection of pauper children, no&lt;br /&gt;progressive mind can doubt that the influence of the&lt;br /&gt;Vatican is on the decline."  His nickname had stuck&lt;br /&gt;to him in honour of a paragraph he was alleged to have&lt;br /&gt;written when the American President was wounded&lt;br /&gt;by a bullet fired by a lunatic in New Orleans, and&lt;br /&gt;which was said to have run, "The President passed&lt;br /&gt;a good night and his condition is greatly improved.&lt;br /&gt;The assassin is not, however, a German, as was at first&lt;br /&gt;supposed."  Men stared at that mysterious conjunction&lt;br /&gt;till they wanted to go mad and to shoot somebody&lt;br /&gt;themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hibbs However was a long, lank man, with straight,&lt;br /&gt;yellowish hair and a manner that was externally soft&lt;br /&gt;and mild but secretly supercilious.  He had been, when&lt;br /&gt;at Cambridge, a friend of Leveson, and they had both&lt;br /&gt;prided themselves on being moderate politicians.  But&lt;br /&gt;if you have had your hat smashed over your nose by&lt;br /&gt;one who has very recently described himself as a "law-abidin' man," and if you have had to run for your&lt;br /&gt;life with one coat-tail, and encouraged to further bodily&lt;br /&gt;activity by having irregular pieces of a corrugated iron&lt;br /&gt;roof thrown after you by men more energetic than&lt;br /&gt;yourself, you will find you emerge with emotions which&lt;br /&gt;are not solely those of a moderate politician.  Hibbs&lt;br /&gt;However had already composed a leaderette on the&lt;br /&gt;Pebblewick incident, which rather pointed to the truth&lt;br /&gt;of the story, so far as his articles ever pointed to&lt;br /&gt;anything.  His motives for veering vaguely in this&lt;br /&gt;direction were, as usual, complex.  He knew the millionaire&lt;br /&gt;who owned the paper had a hobby of Spiritualism, and&lt;br /&gt;something might always come out of not suppressing a&lt;br /&gt;marvellous story.  He knew that two at least of the&lt;br /&gt;prosperous artisans or small tradesmen who had&lt;br /&gt;attested the tale were staunch supporters of The Party.&lt;br /&gt;He knew that Lord Ivywood must be mildly but not&lt;br /&gt;effectually checked; for Lord Ivywood was of The&lt;br /&gt;Other Party.  And there could be no milder or less&lt;br /&gt;effectual way of checking him than by allowing the paper&lt;br /&gt;to lend at least a temporary credit to a well-supported&lt;br /&gt;story that came from outside, and certainly had not&lt;br /&gt;been (like so many stories) created in the office.  Amid&lt;br /&gt;all these considerations had Hibbs However steered&lt;br /&gt;his way to a more or less confirmatory article, when&lt;br /&gt;the sudden apparition of J. Leveson, Secretary, in the&lt;br /&gt;sub-editor's room with a burst collar and broken&lt;br /&gt;eyeglasses, led Mr. Hibbs into a long, private conversation&lt;br /&gt;with him and a comparative reversal of his plans.  But&lt;br /&gt;of course he did not write a new article; he was not&lt;br /&gt;of that divine order who make all things new.  He&lt;br /&gt;chopped and changed his original article in such a way&lt;br /&gt;that it was something quite beyond the most bewildering&lt;br /&gt;article he had written in the past; and is still&lt;br /&gt;prized by those highly cultured persons who collect&lt;br /&gt;the worst literature of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It began, indeed, with the comparatively familiar&lt;br /&gt;formula, "Whether we take the more lax or the more&lt;br /&gt;advanced view of the old disputed problem of the&lt;br /&gt;morality or immorality of the wooden sign-board as&lt;br /&gt;such, we shall all agree that the scenes enacted at&lt;br /&gt;Pebblewick were very discreditable, to most, though&lt;br /&gt;not all, concerned."  After that, tact degenerated into&lt;br /&gt;a riot of irrelevance.  It was a wonderful article.  The&lt;br /&gt;reader could get from it a faint glimpse of Mr. Hibbs's&lt;br /&gt;opinion on almost every other subject except the&lt;br /&gt;subject of the article.  The first half of the next sentence&lt;br /&gt;made it quite clear that Mr. Hibbs (had he been&lt;br /&gt;present) would not have lent his active assistance to&lt;br /&gt;the Massacre of St. Bartholomew or the Massacres of&lt;br /&gt;September.  But the second half of the sentence&lt;br /&gt;suggested with equal clearness that, since these two acts&lt;br /&gt;were no longer, as it were, in contemplation, and all&lt;br /&gt;attempts to prevent them would probably arrive a&lt;br /&gt;little late, he felt the warmest friendship for the French&lt;br /&gt;nation.  He merely insisted that his friendship should&lt;br /&gt;never be mentioned except in the French language.&lt;br /&gt;It must be called an "entente" in the language taught&lt;br /&gt;to tourists by waiters.  It must on no account be called&lt;br /&gt;an "understanding," in a language understanded of&lt;br /&gt;the people.  From the first half of the sentence&lt;br /&gt;following it might safely be inferred that Mr. Hibbs had&lt;br /&gt;read Milton, or at least the passage about sons of&lt;br /&gt;Belial; from the second half that he knew nothing&lt;br /&gt;about bad wine, let alone good.  The next sentence&lt;br /&gt;began with the corruption of the Roman Empire and&lt;br /&gt;contrived to end with Dr. Clifford.  Then there was a&lt;br /&gt;weak plea for Eugenics; and a warm plea against&lt;br /&gt;Conscription, which was not True Eugenics.  That&lt;br /&gt;was all; and it was headed "The Riot at Pebblewick."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet some injustice would be done to Hibbs However&lt;br /&gt;if we concealed the fact that this chaotic leader&lt;br /&gt;was followed by quite a considerable mass of public&lt;br /&gt;correspondence.  The people who write to newspapers&lt;br /&gt;are, it may be supposed, a small, eccentric body, like&lt;br /&gt;most of those that sway a modern state.  But at least,&lt;br /&gt;unlike the lawyers, or the financiers, or the members&lt;br /&gt;of Parliament, or the men of science, they are people&lt;br /&gt;of all kinds scattered all over the country, of all classes,&lt;br /&gt;counties, ages, sects, sexes, and stages of insanity.  The&lt;br /&gt;letters that followed Hibbs's article are still worth&lt;br /&gt;looking up in the dusty old files of his paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dear old lady in the densest part of the Midlands&lt;br /&gt;wrote to suggest that there might really have been&lt;br /&gt;an old ship wrecked on the shore, during the&lt;br /&gt;proceedings.  "Mr. Leveson may have omitted to notice it,&lt;br /&gt;or, at that late hour of the evening, it may have been&lt;br /&gt;mistaken for a sign-board, especially by a person of&lt;br /&gt;defective sight.  My own sight has been failing for&lt;br /&gt;some time; but I am still a diligent reader of your&lt;br /&gt;paper."  If Mr. Hibbs's diplomacy had left one nerve&lt;br /&gt;in his soul undrugged, he would have laughed, or burst&lt;br /&gt;into tears, or got drunk, or gone into a monastery over&lt;br /&gt;a letter like that.  As it was, he measured it with a&lt;br /&gt;pencil, and decided that it was just too long to get into&lt;br /&gt;the column.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a letter from a theorist, and a theorist&lt;br /&gt;of the worst sort.  There is no great harm in the&lt;br /&gt;theorist who makes up a new theory to fit a new event.&lt;br /&gt;But the theorist who starts with a false theory and then&lt;br /&gt;sees everything as making it come true is the most&lt;br /&gt;dangerous enemy of human reason.  The letter began&lt;br /&gt;like a bullet let loose by the trigger.  "Is not the whole&lt;br /&gt;question met by Ex. iv. 3?  I enclose pamphlets in&lt;br /&gt;which I have proved the point quite plainly, and which&lt;br /&gt;none of the Bishops or the so-called Free Church&lt;br /&gt;Ministers have attempted to answer.  The connection&lt;br /&gt;between the rod or pole and the snake so clearly indicated&lt;br /&gt;in Scripture is no less clear in this case.  It is well&lt;br /&gt;known that those who follow after strong drink often&lt;br /&gt;announce themselves as having seen a snake.  Is it not&lt;br /&gt;clear that those unhappy revellers beheld it in its&lt;br /&gt;transformed state as a pole; see also Deut. xviii. 2.&lt;br /&gt;If our so-called religious leaders," etc.  The letter&lt;br /&gt;went on for thirty-three pages and Hibbs was perhaps&lt;br /&gt;justified in this case in thinking the letter rather too&lt;br /&gt;long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the scientific correspondent who&lt;br /&gt;said--Might it not be due to the acoustic qualities of&lt;br /&gt;the hall?  He had never believed in the corrugated&lt;br /&gt;iron hall.  The very word "hall" itself (he added&lt;br /&gt;playfully) was often so sharpened and shortened by the&lt;br /&gt;abrupt echoes of those repeated metallic curves, that it&lt;br /&gt;had every appearance of being the word "hell," and&lt;br /&gt;had caused many theological entanglements, and some&lt;br /&gt;police prosecutions.  In the light of these facts, he&lt;br /&gt;wished to draw the editor's attention to some very&lt;br /&gt;curious details about this supposed presence or absence&lt;br /&gt;of an inn-sign.  It would be noted that many of the&lt;br /&gt;witnesses, and especially the most respectable of them,&lt;br /&gt;constantly refer to something that is supposed to be&lt;br /&gt;outside.  The word "outside" occurs at least five times&lt;br /&gt;in the depositions of the complaining persons.  Surely&lt;br /&gt;by all scientific analogy we may infer that the unusual&lt;br /&gt;phrase "inn-sign" is an acoustic error for "inside."&lt;br /&gt;The word "inside" would so naturally occur in any&lt;br /&gt;discussion either about the building or the individual,&lt;br /&gt;when the debate was of a hygienic character.  This&lt;br /&gt;letter was signed "Medical Student," and the less&lt;br /&gt;intelligent parts of it were selected for publication in the&lt;br /&gt;paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a really humorous man, who wrote&lt;br /&gt;and said there was nothing at all inexplicable or&lt;br /&gt;unusual about the case.  He himself (he said) had often&lt;br /&gt;seen a sign-board outside a pub when he went into it,&lt;br /&gt;and been quite unable to see it when he came out.&lt;br /&gt;This letter (the only one that had any quality of&lt;br /&gt;literature) was sternly set aside by Mr. Hibbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came a cultured gentleman with a light touch,&lt;br /&gt;who merely made a suggestion.  Had anyone read&lt;br /&gt;H. G. Wells's story about the kink in space?  He&lt;br /&gt;contrived, indescribably, to suggest that no one had even&lt;br /&gt;heard of it except himself; or, perhaps, of Mr. Wells&lt;br /&gt;either.  The story indicated that men's feet might be&lt;br /&gt;in one part of the world and their eyes in another.&lt;br /&gt;He offered the suggestion for what it was worth.&lt;br /&gt;The particular pile of letters on which Hibbs However&lt;br /&gt;threw it, showed only too clearly what it was worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a man, of course, who called it all&lt;br /&gt;a plot of frenzied foreigners against Britain's shore.&lt;br /&gt;But as he did not make it quite clear whether the chief&lt;br /&gt;wickedness of these aliens had lain in sticking the&lt;br /&gt;sign up or in pulling it down, his remarks (the remainder&lt;br /&gt;of which referred exclusively to the conversational&lt;br /&gt;misconduct of an Italian ice-cream man, whose side&lt;br /&gt;of the case seemed insufficiently represented) carried&lt;br /&gt;the less weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, last but the reverse of least, there plunged&lt;br /&gt;in all the people who think they can solve a problem&lt;br /&gt;they cannot understand by abolishing everything that&lt;br /&gt;has contributed to it.  We all know these people.  If a&lt;br /&gt;barber has cut his customer's throat because the girl&lt;br /&gt;has changed her partner for a dance or donkey ride on&lt;br /&gt;Hampstead Heath, there are always people to protest&lt;br /&gt;against the mere institutions that led up to it.  This&lt;br /&gt;would not have happened if barbers were abolished,&lt;br /&gt;or if cutlery were abolished, or if the objection felt by&lt;br /&gt;girls to imperfectly grown beards were abolished, or if&lt;br /&gt;the girls were abolished, or if heaths and open spaces&lt;br /&gt;were abolished, or if dancing were abolished, or if&lt;br /&gt;donkeys were abolished.  But donkeys, I fear, will&lt;br /&gt;never be abolished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were plenty of such donkeys in the common&lt;br /&gt;land of this particular controversy.  Some made it an&lt;br /&gt;argument against democracy, because poor Garge was&lt;br /&gt;a carpenter.  Some made it an argument against Alien&lt;br /&gt;Immigration, because Misysra Ammon was a Turk.&lt;br /&gt;Some proposed that ladies should no longer be admitted&lt;br /&gt;to any lectures anywhere, because they had constituted&lt;br /&gt;a slight and temporary difficulty at this one, without&lt;br /&gt;the faintest fault of their own.  Some urged that all&lt;br /&gt;holiday resorts should be abolished; some urged that&lt;br /&gt;all holidays should be abolished.  Some vaguely&lt;br /&gt;denounced the sea-side; some, still more vaguely,&lt;br /&gt;proposed to remove the sea.  All said that if this or that,&lt;br /&gt;stones or sea-weed or strange visitors or bad weather&lt;br /&gt;or bathing machines were swept away with a strong&lt;br /&gt;hand, this which had happened would not have&lt;br /&gt;happened.  They only had one slight weakness, all of&lt;br /&gt;them; that they did not seem to have the faintest&lt;br /&gt;notion of what _had_ happened.  And in this they were&lt;br /&gt;not inexcusable.  Nobody did know what had&lt;br /&gt;happened; nobody knows it to this day, of course, or it&lt;br /&gt;would be unnecessary to write this story.  No one can&lt;br /&gt;suppose this story is written from any motive save that&lt;br /&gt;of telling the plain, humdrum truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That queer confused cunning which was the only&lt;br /&gt;definable quality possessed by Hibbs However had&lt;br /&gt;certainly scored a victory so far, for the tone of the&lt;br /&gt;weekly papers followed him, with more intelligence&lt;br /&gt;and less trepidation; but they followed him.  It seemed&lt;br /&gt;more and more clear that some kind of light and sceptical&lt;br /&gt;explanation was to be given of the whole business,&lt;br /&gt;and that the whole business was to be dropped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story of the sign-board and the ethical chapel&lt;br /&gt;of corrugated iron was discussed and somewhat&lt;br /&gt;disparaged in all the more serious and especially in the&lt;br /&gt;religious weeklies, though the Low Church papers&lt;br /&gt;seemed to reserve their distaste chiefly for the sign-board; and the High Church papers chiefly for the&lt;br /&gt;Chapel.  All agreed that the combination was&lt;br /&gt;incongruous, and most treated it as fabulous.  The only&lt;br /&gt;intellectual organs which seemed to think it might have&lt;br /&gt;happened were the Spiritualist papers, and their&lt;br /&gt;interpretation had not that solidity which would have&lt;br /&gt;satisfied Mr. George.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not until almost a year after that it was&lt;br /&gt;felt in philosophical circles that the last word had&lt;br /&gt;been said on the matter.  An estimate of the incident&lt;br /&gt;and of its bearing on natural and supernatural history&lt;br /&gt;occurred in Professor Widge's celebrated "Historicity&lt;br /&gt;of the Petro-Piscatorial Phenomena"; which so&lt;br /&gt;profoundly affected modern thought when it came out in&lt;br /&gt;parts in the _Hibbert Journal_.  Everyone remembers&lt;br /&gt;Professor Widge's main contention, that the modern&lt;br /&gt;critic must apply to the thaumaturgics of the Lake of&lt;br /&gt;Tiberias the same principle of criticism which Dr.&lt;br /&gt;Bunk and others have so successfully applied to the&lt;br /&gt;thaumaturgics of the Cana narrative: "Authorities&lt;br /&gt;as final as Pink and Toscher," wrote the Professor,&lt;br /&gt;"have now shown with an emphasis that no emancipated&lt;br /&gt;mind is entitled to question, that the Aqua-Vinic&lt;br /&gt;thaumaturgy at Cana is wholly inconsistent with the&lt;br /&gt;psychology of the 'master of the feast,' as modern&lt;br /&gt;research has analysed it; and indeed with the whole&lt;br /&gt;Judaeo-Aramaic psychology at that stage of its&lt;br /&gt;development, as well as being painfully incongruous with&lt;br /&gt;the elevated ideals of the ethical teacher in question.&lt;br /&gt;But as we rise to higher levels of moral achievement,&lt;br /&gt;it will probably be found necessary to apply the Canaic&lt;br /&gt;principle to other and later events in the narrative.&lt;br /&gt;This principle has, of course, been mainly expounded&lt;br /&gt;by Huscher in the sense that the whole episode is&lt;br /&gt;unhistorical, while the alternative theory, that the wine&lt;br /&gt;was non-alcoholic and was naturally infused into the&lt;br /&gt;water, can claim on its side the impressive name of&lt;br /&gt;Minns.  It is clear that if we apply the same alternative&lt;br /&gt;to the so-called Miraculous Draught of Fishes we must&lt;br /&gt;either hold with Gilp, that the fishes were stuffed&lt;br /&gt;representations of fishes artificially placed in the lake&lt;br /&gt;(see the Rev. Y. Wyse's "Christo-Vegetarianism as&lt;br /&gt;a World-System," where this position is forcibly set&lt;br /&gt;forth), or we must, on the Huscherian hypothesis,&lt;br /&gt;deprive the Piscatorial narrative of all claim to&lt;br /&gt;historicity whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The difficulty felt by the most daring critics (even&lt;br /&gt;Pooke) in adopting this entirely destructive attitude,&lt;br /&gt;is the alleged improbability of so detailed a narrative&lt;br /&gt;being founded on so slight a phrase as the anti-historical&lt;br /&gt;critics refer it to.  It is urged by Pooke, with&lt;br /&gt;characteristic relentless reasoning, that according to&lt;br /&gt;Huscher's theory a metaphorical but at least noticeable&lt;br /&gt;remark, such as, 'I will make you fishers of men,' was&lt;br /&gt;expanded into a realistic chronicle of events which&lt;br /&gt;contains no mention, even in the passages evidently&lt;br /&gt;interpolated, of any men actually found in the nets&lt;br /&gt;when they were hauled up out of the sea; or, more&lt;br /&gt;properly, lagoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It must appear presumptuous or even bad taste&lt;br /&gt;for anyone in the modern world to differ on any&lt;br /&gt;subject from Pooke; but I would venture to suggest that&lt;br /&gt;the very academic splendour and unique standing of&lt;br /&gt;the venerable professor (whose ninety-seventh birthday&lt;br /&gt;was so beautifully celebrated in Chicago last year),&lt;br /&gt;may have forbidden him all but intuitive knowledge of&lt;br /&gt;how errors arise among the vulgar.  I crave pardon&lt;br /&gt;for mentioning a modern case known to myself (not&lt;br /&gt;indeed by personal presence, but by careful study of&lt;br /&gt;all the reports) which presents a curious parallel to&lt;br /&gt;such ancient expansions of a text into an incident, in&lt;br /&gt;accordance with Huscher's law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It occurred at Pebblewick, in the south of England.&lt;br /&gt;The town had long been in a state of dangerous&lt;br /&gt;religious excitement.  The great religious genius who&lt;br /&gt;has since so much altered our whole attitude to the&lt;br /&gt;religions of the world, Misysra Ammon, had been&lt;br /&gt;lecturing on the sands to thousands of enthusiastic&lt;br /&gt;hearers.  Their meetings were often interrupted, both&lt;br /&gt;by children's services run on the most ruthless lines&lt;br /&gt;of orthodoxy and by the League of the Red Rosette,&lt;br /&gt;the formidable atheist and anarchist organization.  As&lt;br /&gt;if this were not enough to swell the whirlpool of&lt;br /&gt;fanaticism, the old popular controversy between the Milnian&lt;br /&gt;and the Complete Sublapsarians broke out again on&lt;br /&gt;the fated beach.  It is natural to conjecture that in&lt;br /&gt;the thickening atmosphere of theology in Pebblewick,&lt;br /&gt;some controversialist quoted the text 'An evil and&lt;br /&gt;adulterous generation _seek for a sign_.  But no sign&lt;br /&gt;shall be given it save the sign of the prophet Jonas.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A mind like that of Pooke will find it hard to&lt;br /&gt;credit, but it seems certain that the effect of this text&lt;br /&gt;on the ignorant peasantry of southern England was&lt;br /&gt;actually to make them go about looking for a sign,&lt;br /&gt;in the sense of those old tavern signs now so happily&lt;br /&gt;disappearing.  The 'sign of the Prophet Jonas,' they&lt;br /&gt;somehow translated in their stunted minds into a sign-board of the ship out of which Jonah was thrown.&lt;br /&gt;They went about literally looking for 'The Sign of&lt;br /&gt;the Ship,' and there are some cases of their suffering&lt;br /&gt;Smail's Hallucination and actually seeing it.  The&lt;br /&gt;whole incident is a curious parallel to the Gospel&lt;br /&gt;narrative and a triumphant vindication of Huscher's law."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood paid a public compliment to Professor&lt;br /&gt;Widge, saying that he had rolled back from his&lt;br /&gt;country what might have been an ocean of superstitions.&lt;br /&gt;But, indeed, poor Hibbs had struck the first&lt;br /&gt;and stunning blow that scattered the brains of all men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE CHARACTER OF QUOODLE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THERE lay about in Lord Ivywood's numerous gardens,&lt;br /&gt;terraces, outhouses, stable yards and similar&lt;br /&gt;places, a dog that came to be called by the name of&lt;br /&gt;Quoodle.  Lord Ivywood did not call him Quoodle.&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood was almost physically incapable of&lt;br /&gt;articulating such sounds.  Lord Ivywood did not care&lt;br /&gt;for dogs.  He cared for the Cause of dogs, of course;&lt;br /&gt;and he cared still more for his own intellectual self-respect and consistency.  He would never have permitted&lt;br /&gt;a dog in his house to be physically ill-treated; nor,&lt;br /&gt;for that matter, a rat; nor, for that matter, even a&lt;br /&gt;man.  But if Quoodle was not physically ill-treated,&lt;br /&gt;he was at least socially neglected, and Quoodle did&lt;br /&gt;not like it.  For dogs care for companionship more&lt;br /&gt;than for kindness itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood would probably have sold the dog,&lt;br /&gt;but he consulted experts (as he did on everything&lt;br /&gt;he didn't understand and many things that he did),&lt;br /&gt;and the impression he gathered from them was that&lt;br /&gt;the dog, technically considered, would fetch very&lt;br /&gt;little; mostly, it seemed, because of the mixture of&lt;br /&gt;qualities that it possessed.  It was a sort of mongrel&lt;br /&gt;bull-terrier, but with rather too much of the bull-dog;&lt;br /&gt;and this fact seemed to weaken its price as much as&lt;br /&gt;it strengthened its jaw.  His Lordship also gained a&lt;br /&gt;hazy impression that the dog might have been valuable&lt;br /&gt;as a watch-dog if it had not been able to follow game&lt;br /&gt;like a pointer; and that even in the latter walk of life it&lt;br /&gt;would always be discredited by an unfortunate talent&lt;br /&gt;for swimming as well as a retriever.  But Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood's impressions may very well have been slightly&lt;br /&gt;confused, as he was probably thinking about the&lt;br /&gt;Black stone of Mecca, or some such subject at the&lt;br /&gt;moment.  The victim of this entanglement of virtues,&lt;br /&gt;therefore, still lay about in the sunlight of Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;exhibiting no general result of that entanglement&lt;br /&gt;except the most appalling ugliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Lady Joan Brett did appreciate dogs.  It was&lt;br /&gt;the whole of her type and a great deal of her tragedy&lt;br /&gt;that all that was natural in her was still alive under all&lt;br /&gt;that was artificial; and she could smell hawthorn or the&lt;br /&gt;sea as far off as a dog can smell his dinner.  Like most&lt;br /&gt;aristocrats she would carry cynicism almost to the&lt;br /&gt;suburbs of the city of Satan; she was quite as&lt;br /&gt;irreligious as Lord Ivywood, or rather more.  She could&lt;br /&gt;be quite equally frigid or supercilious when she felt&lt;br /&gt;inclined.  And in the great social talent of being tired,&lt;br /&gt;she could beat him any day of the week.  But the&lt;br /&gt;difference remained in spite of her sophistries and&lt;br /&gt;ambitions; that her elemental communications were&lt;br /&gt;not cut, and his were.  For her the sunrise was still&lt;br /&gt;the rising of a sun, and not the turning on of a light&lt;br /&gt;by a convenient cosmic servant.  For her the Spring&lt;br /&gt;was really the Season in the country, and not merely&lt;br /&gt;the Season in town.  For her cocks and hens were&lt;br /&gt;natural appendages to an English house; and not (as&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood had proved to her from an encyclopaedia)&lt;br /&gt;animals of Indian origin, recently imported by&lt;br /&gt;Alexander the Great.  And so for her a dog was a dog,&lt;br /&gt;and not one of the higher animals, nor one of the lower&lt;br /&gt;animals, nor something that had the sacredness of life,&lt;br /&gt;nor something that ought to be muzzled, nor something&lt;br /&gt;that ought not to be vivisected.  She knew that in every&lt;br /&gt;practical sense proper provision would be made for the&lt;br /&gt;dog; as, indeed, provision was made for the yellow&lt;br /&gt;dogs in Constantinople by Abdul Hamid, whose life&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood was writing for the _Progressive Potentates_&lt;br /&gt;series.  Nor was she in the least sentimental about&lt;br /&gt;the dog or anxious to turn him into a pet.  It simply&lt;br /&gt;came natural to her in passing to rub all his hair the&lt;br /&gt;wrong way and call him something which she&lt;br /&gt;instantly forgot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man who was mowing the garden lawn looked&lt;br /&gt;up for a moment, for he had never seen the dog&lt;br /&gt;behave in exactly that way before.  Quoodle arose,&lt;br /&gt;shook himself, and trotted on in front of the lady,&lt;br /&gt;leading her up an iron side staircase, of which, as it&lt;br /&gt;happened, she had never made use before.  It was&lt;br /&gt;then, most probably, that she first took any special&lt;br /&gt;notice of him; and her pleasure, like that which she&lt;br /&gt;took in the sublime prophet from Turkey, was of a&lt;br /&gt;humorous character.  For the complex quadruped&lt;br /&gt;had retained the bow legs of the bull-dog; and, seen&lt;br /&gt;from behind, reminded her ridiculously of a&lt;br /&gt;swaggering little Major waddling down to his Club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog and the iron stairway between them led&lt;br /&gt;her into a series of long rooms, one opening into the&lt;br /&gt;other.  They formed part of what she had known&lt;br /&gt;in earlier days as the disused Wing of Ivywood House,&lt;br /&gt;which had been neglected or shut up, probably because&lt;br /&gt;it bore some defacements from the fancies of the mad&lt;br /&gt;ancestor, the memory of whom the present Lord Ivywood&lt;br /&gt;did not think helpful to his own political career.&lt;br /&gt;But it seemed to Joan that there were indications of&lt;br /&gt;a recent attempt to rehabilitate the place.  There was&lt;br /&gt;a pail of whitewash in one of the empty rooms, a step-ladder in another, here and there a curtain rod, and&lt;br /&gt;at last, in the fourth room a curtain.  It hung all&lt;br /&gt;alone on the old woodwork, but it was a very gorgeous&lt;br /&gt;curtain, being a kind of orange-gold relieved with&lt;br /&gt;wavy bars of crimson, which somehow seemed to suggest&lt;br /&gt;the very spirit and presence of serpents, though&lt;br /&gt;they had neither eyes nor mouths among them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the next of the endless series of rooms she came&lt;br /&gt;upon a kind of ottoman, striped with green and silver&lt;br /&gt;standing alone on the bare floor.  She sat down on it&lt;br /&gt;from a mixed motive of fatigue and of impudence, for&lt;br /&gt;she dimly remembered a story which she had always&lt;br /&gt;thought one of the funniest in the world, about a lady&lt;br /&gt;only partly initiated in Theosophy who had been in&lt;br /&gt;the habit of resting on a similar object, only to&lt;br /&gt;discover afterward that it was a Mahatma, covered with&lt;br /&gt;his eastern garment and prostrate and rigid in ecstasy.&lt;br /&gt;She had no hopes of sitting on a Mahatma herself,&lt;br /&gt;but the very thought of it made her laugh, because it&lt;br /&gt;would make Lord Ivywood look such a fool.  She was&lt;br /&gt;not sure whether she liked or disliked Lord Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;but she felt quite certain that it would gratify her to&lt;br /&gt;make him look a fool.  The moment she had sat down&lt;br /&gt;on the ottoman, the dog, who had been trotting beside&lt;br /&gt;her, sat down also, and on the edge of her skirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a minute or two she rose (and the dog rose),&lt;br /&gt;and she looked yet farther down that long perspective&lt;br /&gt;of large rooms, in which men like Philip Ivywood&lt;br /&gt;forget that they are only men.  The next was more&lt;br /&gt;ornate and the next yet more so; it was plain that the&lt;br /&gt;scheme of decoration that was in progress had been&lt;br /&gt;started at the other end.  She could now see that the&lt;br /&gt;long lane ended in rooms that from afar off looked&lt;br /&gt;like the end of a kaleidoscope, rooms like nests made&lt;br /&gt;only from humming birds or palaces built of fixed&lt;br /&gt;fireworks.  Out of this furnace of fragmentary&lt;br /&gt;colours she saw Ivywood advancing toward her, with&lt;br /&gt;his black suit and his white face accented by the&lt;br /&gt;contrast.  His lips were moving, for he was talking to&lt;br /&gt;himself, as many orators do.  He did not seem to see&lt;br /&gt;her, and she had to strangle a subconscious and utterly&lt;br /&gt;senseless cry, "He is blind!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next moment he was welcoming her intrusion&lt;br /&gt;with the well-bred surprise and rather worldly&lt;br /&gt;simplicity suitable to such a case, and Joan fancied she&lt;br /&gt;understood why his face had seemed a little bleaker&lt;br /&gt;and blinder than usual.  It was by contrast.  He was&lt;br /&gt;carrying clutched to his forefinger, as his ancestors&lt;br /&gt;might have carried a falcon clutched to the wrist, a&lt;br /&gt;small bright coloured semi-tropical bird, the expression&lt;br /&gt;of whose head, neck and eye was the very opposite&lt;br /&gt;of his own.  Joan thought she had never seen a living&lt;br /&gt;creature with a head so lively and insulting.  Its&lt;br /&gt;provocative eye and pointed crest seemed to be offering to&lt;br /&gt;fight fifty game-cocks.  It was no wonder (she told&lt;br /&gt;herself) that by the side of this gaudy gutter-snipe&lt;br /&gt;with feathers Ivywood's faint-coloured hair and frigid&lt;br /&gt;face looked like the hair and face of a corpse walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You'll never know what this is," said Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;in his most charming manner.  "You've heard of him a&lt;br /&gt;hundred times and never had a notion of what he&lt;br /&gt;was.  This is the Bulbul."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I never knew," replied Joan.  "I am afraid I never&lt;br /&gt;cared.  I always thought it was something like a &lt;br /&gt;nightingale."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, yes," answered Ivywood, "but this is the real&lt;br /&gt;Bulbul peculiar to the East, _Pycnonotus Haemorrhous_.&lt;br /&gt;You are thinking of _Daulias Golzii_."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I suppose I am," replied Lady Joan with a faint&lt;br /&gt;smile.  "It is an obsession.  When shall I not be&lt;br /&gt;thinking of Daulias Galsworthy?  Was it &lt;br /&gt;Galsworthy?"  Then feeling quite touched by the soft&lt;br /&gt;austerity of her companion's face, she caressed the&lt;br /&gt;gaudy and pugnacious bird with one finger and said,&lt;br /&gt;"It's a dear little thing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quadruped intimately called Quoodle did not&lt;br /&gt;approve of all this at all.  Like most dogs, he liked&lt;br /&gt;to be with human beings when they were silent, and he&lt;br /&gt;extended a magnificent toleration to them as long as&lt;br /&gt;they were talking to each other.  But conversational&lt;br /&gt;attention paid to any other animal at all remote from&lt;br /&gt;a mongrel bull-terrier wounded Mr. Quoodle in his&lt;br /&gt;most sensitive and gentlemanly feelings.  He emitted&lt;br /&gt;a faint growl.  Joan, with all the instincts that were in&lt;br /&gt;her, bent down and pulled his hair about once more,&lt;br /&gt;and felt the instant necessity of diverting the general&lt;br /&gt;admiration from _Pycnonotus Haemorrhous_.  She&lt;br /&gt;turned it to the decoration at the end of the refurnished&lt;br /&gt;wing; for they had already come to the last of the&lt;br /&gt;long suite of rooms, which ended in some unfinished&lt;br /&gt;but exquisite panelling in white and coloured woods,&lt;br /&gt;inlaid in the oriental manner.  At one corner the whole&lt;br /&gt;corridor ended by curving into a round turret chamber&lt;br /&gt;overlooking the landscape; and which Joan, who&lt;br /&gt;had known the house in childhood, was sure was an&lt;br /&gt;innovation.  On the other hand a black gap, still left&lt;br /&gt;in the lower left-hand corner of the oriental&lt;br /&gt;woodwork, suddenly reminded her of something she had&lt;br /&gt;forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Surely," she said (after much mere aesthetic&lt;br /&gt;ecstasy), "there used to be a staircase there, leading to&lt;br /&gt;the old kitchen garden, or the old chapel or something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood nodded gravely.  "Yes," he said, "it did&lt;br /&gt;lead to the ruins of a Mediaeval Chapel, as you say.&lt;br /&gt;The truth is it led to several things that I cannot&lt;br /&gt;altogether consider a credit to the family in these days.&lt;br /&gt;All that scandal and joking about the unsuccessful&lt;br /&gt;tunnel (your mother may have told you of it), well,&lt;br /&gt;it did us no good in the County, I'm afraid; so as it's&lt;br /&gt;a mere scrap of land bordering on the sea, I've fenced&lt;br /&gt;it off and let it grow wild.  But I'm boarding up the&lt;br /&gt;end of the room here for quite another reason.  I&lt;br /&gt;want you to come and see it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He led her into the round corner turret in which the&lt;br /&gt;new architecture ended, and Joan, with her thirst&lt;br /&gt;for the beautiful, could not stifle a certain thrill of&lt;br /&gt;beatitude at the prospect.  Five open windows of a&lt;br /&gt;light and exquisite Saracenic outline looked out over&lt;br /&gt;the bronze and copper and purple of the Autumn parks&lt;br /&gt;and forests to the peacock colours of the sea.  There&lt;br /&gt;was neither house nor living thing in sight, and, familiar&lt;br /&gt;as she had been with that coast, she knew she was&lt;br /&gt;looking out from a new angle of vision on a new&lt;br /&gt;landscape of Ivywood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can write sonnets?" said Ivywood with something&lt;br /&gt;more like emotion in his voice than she had&lt;br /&gt;ever heard in it.  "What comes first into your mind&lt;br /&gt;with these open windows?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know what you mean," said Joan after a silence.&lt;br /&gt;"The same hath oft . . ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," he said.  "That is how I felt . . . of&lt;br /&gt;perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was another silence and the dog sniffed round&lt;br /&gt;and round the circular turret chamber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want it to be like that," said Ivywood in a low&lt;br /&gt;and singularly moved intonation.  "I want this to be&lt;br /&gt;the end of the house.  I want this to be the end of the&lt;br /&gt;world.  Don't you feel that is the real beauty of all&lt;br /&gt;this eastern art; that it is coloured like the edges of&lt;br /&gt;things, like the little clouds of morning and the&lt;br /&gt;islands of the blest?  Do you know," and he lowered&lt;br /&gt;his voice yet more, "it has the power over me of&lt;br /&gt;making me feel as if I were myself absent and distant;&lt;br /&gt;some oriental traveller who was lost and for whom&lt;br /&gt;men were looking.  When I see that greenish lemon&lt;br /&gt;yellow enamel there let into the white, I feel that&lt;br /&gt;I am standing thousands of leagues from where I&lt;br /&gt;stand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are right," said Joan, looking at him with&lt;br /&gt;some wonder, "I have felt like that myself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This art," went on Ivywood as in a dream, "does&lt;br /&gt;indeed take the wings of the morning and abide in the&lt;br /&gt;uttermost parts of the sea.  They say it contains no&lt;br /&gt;form of life, but surely we can read its alphabet as&lt;br /&gt;easily as the red hieroglyphics of sunrise and sunset&lt;br /&gt;which are on the fringes of the robe of God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I never heard you talk like that before," said the&lt;br /&gt;lady, and again stroked the vivid violet feathers of the&lt;br /&gt;small eastern bird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Quoodle could stand it no longer.  He had&lt;br /&gt;evidently formed a very low opinion of the turret&lt;br /&gt;chamber and of oriental art generally, but seeing Joan's&lt;br /&gt;attention once more transferred to his rival, he trotted&lt;br /&gt;out into the longer room, and finding the gap in the&lt;br /&gt;woodwork which was soon to be boarded up, but&lt;br /&gt;which still opened on an old dark staircase, he went&lt;br /&gt;"galumphing" down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood gently placed the bird on the girl's&lt;br /&gt;own finger, and went to one of the open windows,&lt;br /&gt;leaning out a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look here," he said, "doesn't this express what we&lt;br /&gt;both feel?  Isn't this the sort of fairy-tale house that&lt;br /&gt;ought to hang on the last wall of the world?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he motioned her to the window-sill, just outside&lt;br /&gt;which hung the bird's empty cage, beautifully wrought&lt;br /&gt;in brass or some of the yellow metals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why that is the best of all!" cried Lady Joan.  "It&lt;br /&gt;makes one feel as if it really were the Arabian Nights.&lt;br /&gt;As if this were a tower of the gigantic Genii with&lt;br /&gt;turrets up to the moon; and this were an enchanted&lt;br /&gt;Prince caged in a golden palace suspended by the&lt;br /&gt;evening star."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something stirred in her dim but teeming subconsciousness,&lt;br /&gt;something like a chill or change like that by&lt;br /&gt;which we half know that weather has altered, or distant&lt;br /&gt;and unnoticed music suddenly ceased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where is the dog?" she asked suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood turned with a mild, grey eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Was there a dog here?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," said Lady Joan Brett, and gave him back the&lt;br /&gt;bird, which he restored carefully to its cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog after whom she inquired had in truth trundled&lt;br /&gt;down a dark, winding staircase and turned into the&lt;br /&gt;daylight, into a part of the garden he had never seen&lt;br /&gt;before; nor, indeed, had anybody else for some time&lt;br /&gt;past.  It was altogether tangled and overgrown with&lt;br /&gt;weeds, and the only trace of human handiwork, the&lt;br /&gt;wreck of an old Gothic Chapel, stood waist high in&lt;br /&gt;numberless nettles and soiled with crawling fungoids.&lt;br /&gt;Most of these merely discoloured the grey crumbling&lt;br /&gt;stone with shades of bronze or brown; but some of&lt;br /&gt;them, particularly on the side farthest from the house,&lt;br /&gt;were of orange or purple tints almost bright enough for&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood's oriental decoration.  Some fanciful&lt;br /&gt;eyes that fell on the place afterward found something&lt;br /&gt;like an allegory in those graven and broken saints or&lt;br /&gt;archangels feeding such fiery and ephemeral parasites&lt;br /&gt;as those toadstools like blood or gold.  But Mr. Quoodle&lt;br /&gt;had never set himself up as an allegorist, and he&lt;br /&gt;merely trotted deeper and deeper into the grey-green&lt;br /&gt;English jungle.  He grumbled very much at the thistles&lt;br /&gt;and nettles, much as a city man will grumble at the&lt;br /&gt;jostling of a crowd.  But he continued to press forward,&lt;br /&gt;with his nose near the ground, as if he had already&lt;br /&gt;smelt something that interested him.  And, indeed, he&lt;br /&gt;had smelt something in which a dog, except on special&lt;br /&gt;occasions, is much more interested than he is in dogs.&lt;br /&gt;Breaking through a last barrier of high and hoary&lt;br /&gt;purple thistles he came out on a semicircle of somewhat&lt;br /&gt;clearer ground, dotted with slender trees, and&lt;br /&gt;having, by way of back scene, the brown brick arch of&lt;br /&gt;an old tunnel.  The tunnel was boarded up with a very&lt;br /&gt;irregular fence or mask made of motley wooden&lt;br /&gt;lathes, and looked, somehow, rather like a pantomime&lt;br /&gt;cottage.  In front of this a sturdy man in very shabby&lt;br /&gt;shooting clothes was standing attending to a battered&lt;br /&gt;old frying-pan which he held over a rather irregular&lt;br /&gt;flame which, small as it was, smelt strongly of burnt&lt;br /&gt;rum.  In the frying-pan, and also on the top of a cask&lt;br /&gt;or barrel that served for a table hard by, were a number&lt;br /&gt;of the grey, brown, and even orange fungi which&lt;br /&gt;were plastered over the stone angels and dragons of&lt;br /&gt;the fallen chapel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hullo, old man," said the person in the shooting&lt;br /&gt;jacket with tranquillity and without looking up from&lt;br /&gt;his cooking.  "Come to pay us a visit?  Come along&lt;br /&gt;then."  He flashed one glance at the dog and returned&lt;br /&gt;to the frying pan.  "If your tail were two inches&lt;br /&gt;shorter, you'd be worth a hundred pounds.  Had any&lt;br /&gt;breakfast?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog trotted across to him and began nosing&lt;br /&gt;and sniffing round his dilapidated leather gaiters.&lt;br /&gt;The man did not interrupt his cookery, on which his&lt;br /&gt;eyes were fixed and both his hands were busy; but he&lt;br /&gt;crooked his knee and foot so as to caress the quadruped&lt;br /&gt;in a nerve under the angle of the jaw, the stimulation&lt;br /&gt;of which (as some men of science have held) is for&lt;br /&gt;a dog what a good cigar is for a man.  At the same&lt;br /&gt;moment a huge voice like on ogre's came from within&lt;br /&gt;the masked tunnel, calling out, "And who are ye&lt;br /&gt;talking to?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very crooked kind of window in the upper part of&lt;br /&gt;the pantomime cottage burst open and an enormous&lt;br /&gt;head, with erect, startling, and almost scarlet hair and&lt;br /&gt;blue eyes as big as a bullfrog's, was thrust out above&lt;br /&gt;the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hump," cried the ogre.  "Me moral counsels have&lt;br /&gt;been thrown away.  In the last week I've sung you&lt;br /&gt;fourteen and a half songs of me own composition;&lt;br /&gt;instead of which you go about stealing dogs.  You're&lt;br /&gt;following in the path of Parson Whats-his-name in&lt;br /&gt;every way, I'm afraid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," said the man with the frying pan, impartially,&lt;br /&gt;"Parson Whitelady struck a very good path for&lt;br /&gt;doubling on Pebblewick, that I was glad to follow.&lt;br /&gt;But I think he was quite silly to steal dogs.  He was&lt;br /&gt;young and brought up pious.  I know too much about&lt;br /&gt;dogs to steal one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," asked the large red-haired man, "and how&lt;br /&gt;do you get a dog like that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I let him steal me," said the person stirring the pan.&lt;br /&gt;And indeed the dog was sitting erect and even arrogant&lt;br /&gt;at his feet, as if he was a watch-dog at a high salary,&lt;br /&gt;and had been there before the building of the tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER XI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VEGETARIANISM IN THE DRAWING-ROOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE Company that assembled to listen to the Prophet&lt;br /&gt;of the Moon, on the next occasion of his delivering any&lt;br /&gt;formal address, was much more select than the&lt;br /&gt;comparatively mixed and middle-class society of the&lt;br /&gt;Simple Souls.  Miss Browning and her sister, Mrs.&lt;br /&gt;Mackintosh, were indeed present; for Lord Ivywood&lt;br /&gt;had practically engaged them both as private secretaries,&lt;br /&gt;and kept them pretty busy, too.  There was also&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Leveson, because Lord Ivywood believed in his&lt;br /&gt;organizing power; and also Mr. Hibbs, because Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Leveson believed in his political judgment, whenever he&lt;br /&gt;could discover what it was.  Mr. Leveson had straight,&lt;br /&gt;dark hair, and looked nervous.  Mr. Hibbs had straight,&lt;br /&gt;fair hair, and also looked nervous.  But the rest of the&lt;br /&gt;company were more of Ivywood's own world, or&lt;br /&gt;the world of high finance with which it mixes both&lt;br /&gt;here and on the continent.  Lord Ivywood welcomed,&lt;br /&gt;with something approaching to warmth, a distinguished&lt;br /&gt;foreign diplomatist, who was, indeed, none other than&lt;br /&gt;that silent German representative who had sat beside&lt;br /&gt;him in that last conference on the Island of the Olives.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Gluck was no longer in his quiet, black suit, but&lt;br /&gt;wore an ornate, diplomatic uniform with a sword and&lt;br /&gt;Prussian, Austrian or Turkish Orders; for he was&lt;br /&gt;going on from Ivywood to a function at Court.  But&lt;br /&gt;his curl of red lips, his screw of black mustache, and&lt;br /&gt;his unanswering almond eyes had no more changed&lt;br /&gt;than the face of a wax figure in a barber's shop&lt;br /&gt;window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prophet had also effected an improvement in&lt;br /&gt;his dress.  When he had orated on the sands his&lt;br /&gt;costume, except for the fez, was the shabby but respectable&lt;br /&gt;costume of any rather unsuccessful English clerk.&lt;br /&gt;But now that he had come among aristocrats who&lt;br /&gt;petted their souls as they did their senses, there must&lt;br /&gt;be no such incongruity.  He must be a proper, fresh-picked&lt;br /&gt;oriental tulip or lotus.  So--he wore long, flowing&lt;br /&gt;robes of white, relieved here and there by flame-coloured threads of tracery, and round his head was&lt;br /&gt;a turban of a kind of pale golden green.  He had to&lt;br /&gt;look as if he had come flying across Europe on the&lt;br /&gt;magic carpet, or fallen a moment before from his&lt;br /&gt;paradise in the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ladies of Lord Ivywood's world were much as&lt;br /&gt;we have already found them.  Lady Enid Wimpole&lt;br /&gt;still overwhelmed her earnest and timid face with a&lt;br /&gt;tremendous costume, that was more like a procession&lt;br /&gt;than a dress.  It looked rather like the funeral&lt;br /&gt;procession of Aubrey Beardsley.  Lady Joan Brett still&lt;br /&gt;looked like a very beautiful Spaniard with no illusions&lt;br /&gt;left about her castle in Spain.  The large and resolute&lt;br /&gt;lady who had refused to ask any questions at Misysra's&lt;br /&gt;earlier lecture, and who was known as Lady Crump,&lt;br /&gt;the distinguished Feminist, still had the air of being&lt;br /&gt;so full and bursting with questions fatal to Man as to&lt;br /&gt;have passed the speaking and reached the speechless&lt;br /&gt;stage of hostility.  Throughout the proceedings she&lt;br /&gt;contributed nothing but bursting silence and a malevolent&lt;br /&gt;eye.  And old Lady Ivywood, under the oldest and&lt;br /&gt;finest lace and the oldest and finest manners, had a look&lt;br /&gt;like death on her, which can often be seen in the&lt;br /&gt;parents of pure intellectuals.  She had that face of&lt;br /&gt;a lost mother that is more pathetic than the face of a&lt;br /&gt;lost child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And what are you going to delight us with today?"&lt;br /&gt;Lady Enid was asking of the Prophet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My lecture," answered Misysra, gravely, "is on the&lt;br /&gt;Pig."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was part of a simplicity really respectable in him&lt;br /&gt;that he never saw any incongruity in the arbitrary and&lt;br /&gt;isolated texts or symbols out of which he spun his&lt;br /&gt;thousand insane theories.  Lady Enid endured the&lt;br /&gt;impact of this singular subject for debate without losing&lt;br /&gt;that expression of wistful sweetness which she wore&lt;br /&gt;on principle when talking to such people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Pig, he is a large subject," continued the&lt;br /&gt;Prophet, making curves in the air, as if embracing&lt;br /&gt;some particularly prize specimen.  "He includes many&lt;br /&gt;subjects.  It is to me very strange that the Christians&lt;br /&gt;should so laugh and be surprised because we hold&lt;br /&gt;ourselves to be defiled by pork; we and also another of&lt;br /&gt;the Peoples of the Book.  But, surely, you Christians&lt;br /&gt;yourselves consider the pig as a manner of pollution;&lt;br /&gt;since it is your most usual expression of your&lt;br /&gt;despising, of your very great dislike.  You say 'swine,'&lt;br /&gt;my dear lady; you do not say animals far more&lt;br /&gt;unpopular, such as the alligator."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see," said the lady, "how wonderful!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you are annoyed," went on the encouraged and&lt;br /&gt;excited gentleman, "if you are annoyed with anyone,&lt;br /&gt;with a--what you say?--a lady's maid, you do not&lt;br /&gt;say to her 'Horse.'  You do not say to her 'Camel.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah, no," said Lady Enid, earnestly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"'Pig of a lady's maid,' you say in your colloquial&lt;br /&gt;English," continued the Prophet, triumphantly.  "And&lt;br /&gt;yet this great and awful Pig, this monster whose very&lt;br /&gt;name, when whispered, you think will wither all your&lt;br /&gt;enemies, you allow, my dear lady, to approach yet&lt;br /&gt;closer to you.  You incorporate this great Pig in the&lt;br /&gt;substance of your own person."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Enid Wimpole was looking a little dazed at&lt;br /&gt;last, at this description of her habits, and Joan gave&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood a hint that the lecturer had better be&lt;br /&gt;transferred to his legitimate sphere of lecturing.&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood led the way into a larger room that was full of&lt;br /&gt;ranked chairs, with a sort of lectern at the other end,&lt;br /&gt;and flanked on all four sides with tables laden with&lt;br /&gt;all kinds of refreshments.  It was typical of the&lt;br /&gt;strange, half-fictitious enthusiasm and curiosity of that&lt;br /&gt;world, that one long table was set out entirely with&lt;br /&gt;vegetarian foods, especially of an eastern sort (like&lt;br /&gt;a table spread in the desert for a rather fastidious&lt;br /&gt;Indian hermit); but that tables covered with game&lt;br /&gt;patties, lobster and champagne were equally provided,&lt;br /&gt;and very much more frequented.  Even Mr. Hibbs,&lt;br /&gt;who would honestly have thought entering a public-house more disgraceful than entering a brothel, could&lt;br /&gt;not connect any conception of disgrace with Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood's champagne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the purpose of the lecture was not wholly&lt;br /&gt;devoted to the great and awful Pig, and the purpose of&lt;br /&gt;the meeting even less.  Lord Ivywood, the white&lt;br /&gt;furnace of whose mind was always full of new fancies&lt;br /&gt;hardening into ambitions, wanted to have a debate on&lt;br /&gt;the diet of East and West, and felt that Misysra might&lt;br /&gt;very appropriately open with an account of the&lt;br /&gt;Moslem veto on pork or other coarse forms of flesh food.&lt;br /&gt;He reserved it to himself to speak second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prophet began, indeed, with some of his dizziest&lt;br /&gt;flights.  He informed the Company that they,&lt;br /&gt;the English, had always gone in hidden terror and&lt;br /&gt;loathing of the Pig, as a sacred symbol of evil.  He&lt;br /&gt;proved it by the common English custom of drawing&lt;br /&gt;a pig with one's eyes shut.  Lady Joan smiled, and yet&lt;br /&gt;she asked herself (in a doubt that had been darkening&lt;br /&gt;round her about many modern things lately) whether&lt;br /&gt;it was really much more fanciful than many things&lt;br /&gt;the scientists told her: as, the traces of Marriage by&lt;br /&gt;Capture which they found in that ornamental and even&lt;br /&gt;frivolous being, the Best Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said that the dawn of greater enlightenment is&lt;br /&gt;shown in the use of the word "gammon," which still&lt;br /&gt;expresses disgust at "the porcine image," but no longer&lt;br /&gt;fear of it, but rather a rational disdain and disbelief.&lt;br /&gt;"Rowley," said the Prophet, solemnly, and then after&lt;br /&gt;a long pause, "Powley, _Gammon_ and Spinach."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan smiled again, but again asked herself if it&lt;br /&gt;was much more farfetched than a history book she had&lt;br /&gt;read, which proved the unpopularity of Catholicism in&lt;br /&gt;Tudor times from the word "hocus pocus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got into a most amazing labyrinth of philology&lt;br /&gt;between the red primeval sins of the first pages of&lt;br /&gt;Genesis and the Common English word "ham."  But,&lt;br /&gt;again, Joan wondered whether it was much wilder&lt;br /&gt;than the other things she had heard said about&lt;br /&gt;Primitive Man by people who had never seen him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He suggested that the Irish were set to keep pigs&lt;br /&gt;because they were a low and defiled caste, and the&lt;br /&gt;serfs of the pig-scorning Saxon; and Joan thought it&lt;br /&gt;was about as sensible as what the dear old Archdeacon&lt;br /&gt;had said about Ireland years ago; which had caused an&lt;br /&gt;Irishman of her acquaintance to play "the Shan Van&lt;br /&gt;Voght" and then smash the piano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joan Brett had been thoughtful for the last few&lt;br /&gt;days.  It was partly due to the scene in the turret,&lt;br /&gt;where she had struck a sensitive and artistic side of&lt;br /&gt;Philip Ivywood she had never seen before, and partly&lt;br /&gt;to disturbing news of her mother's health, which,&lt;br /&gt;though not menacing, made her feel hypothetically how&lt;br /&gt;isolated she was in the world.  On all previous&lt;br /&gt;occasions she had merely enjoyed the mad lecturer now at&lt;br /&gt;the reading-desk.  Today she felt a strange desire to&lt;br /&gt;analyse him, and imagine how a man could be so&lt;br /&gt;connected and so convinced and yet so wildly wide of the&lt;br /&gt;mark.  As she listened carefully, looking at the hands&lt;br /&gt;in her lap, she began to think she understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lecturer did really try to prove that the "porcine&lt;br /&gt;image" had never been used in English history&lt;br /&gt;or literature, except in contempt.  And the lecturer&lt;br /&gt;really did know a very great deal about English&lt;br /&gt;history and literature: much more than she did; much&lt;br /&gt;more than the aristocrats round her did.  But she&lt;br /&gt;noted that in every case what he knew was a fragmentary&lt;br /&gt;fact.  In every case what he did not know was&lt;br /&gt;the truth behind the fact.  What he did not know was&lt;br /&gt;the atmosphere.  What he did not know was the&lt;br /&gt;tradition.  She found herself ticking off the cases like&lt;br /&gt;counts in an indictment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Misysra Ammon knew, what next to none of the&lt;br /&gt;English present knew, that Richard III was called a&lt;br /&gt;"boar" by an eighteenth century poet and a "hog" by&lt;br /&gt;a fifteenth century poet.  What he did not know was&lt;br /&gt;the habit of sport and of heraldry.  He did not know&lt;br /&gt;(what Joan knew instantly, though she had never&lt;br /&gt;thought of it before in her life) that beasts courageous&lt;br /&gt;and hard to kill are noble beasts, by the law of chivalry.&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, the boar was a noble beast, and a common&lt;br /&gt;crest for great captains.  Misysra tried to show that&lt;br /&gt;Richard had only been called a pig after he was cold&lt;br /&gt;pork at Bosworth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Misysra Ammon knew, what next to none of the&lt;br /&gt;English present knew, that there never was such a&lt;br /&gt;person as Lord Bacon.  The phrase is a falsification of&lt;br /&gt;what should be Lord Verulam or Lord St. Albans.&lt;br /&gt;What he did not know was exactly what Joan did know&lt;br /&gt;(though it had never crossed her mind till that moment)&lt;br /&gt;that when all is said and done, a title is a sort of&lt;br /&gt;joke, while a surname is a serious thing.  Bacon was&lt;br /&gt;a gentleman, and his name was Bacon; whatever titles&lt;br /&gt;he took.  But Misysra seriously tried to prove that&lt;br /&gt;"Bacon" was a term of abuse applied to him during&lt;br /&gt;his unpopularity or after his fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Misysra Ammon knew, what next to none of the&lt;br /&gt;English present knew, that the poet Shelley had a&lt;br /&gt;friend called Hogg, who treated him on one occasion&lt;br /&gt;with grave treachery.  He instantly tried to prove that&lt;br /&gt;the man was only called "Hogg" because he had treated&lt;br /&gt;Shelley with grave treachery.  And he actually adduced&lt;br /&gt;the fact that another poet, practically contemporary,&lt;br /&gt;was called "Hogg" as completing the connection&lt;br /&gt;with Shelley.  What he did not know was just what&lt;br /&gt;Joan had always known without knowing it: the kind&lt;br /&gt;of people concerned, the traditions of aristocrats like&lt;br /&gt;the Shelleys or of Borderers like the Ettrick Shepherd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lecturer concluded with a passage of impenetrable&lt;br /&gt;darkness about pig-iron and pigs of lead, which&lt;br /&gt;Joan did not even venture to understand.  She could&lt;br /&gt;only say that if it did not mean that some day our diet&lt;br /&gt;might become so refined that we ate lead and iron, she&lt;br /&gt;could form no fancy of what it did mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can Philip Ivywood believe this kind of thing?"&lt;br /&gt;she asked herself; and even as she did so, Philip&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had, as Pitt and Gladstone had, an impromptu&lt;br /&gt;classicism of diction, his words wheeling and deploying&lt;br /&gt;into their proper places like a well-disciplined army&lt;br /&gt;in its swiftest advance.  And it was not long before&lt;br /&gt;Joan perceived that the last phase of the picture,&lt;br /&gt;obscure and monstrous as it seemed, gave Ivywood exactly&lt;br /&gt;the opening he wanted.  Indeed, she felt, no doubt,&lt;br /&gt;that he had arranged for it beforehand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is within my memory," said Lord Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;"though it need in no case have encumbered yours,&lt;br /&gt;that when it was my duty to precede the admired&lt;br /&gt;lecturer whom I now feel it a privilege even to follow, I&lt;br /&gt;submitted a suggestion which, however simple, would&lt;br /&gt;appear to many paradoxical.  I affirmed or implied the&lt;br /&gt;view that the religion of Mahomet was, in a peculiar&lt;br /&gt;sense, a religion of progress.  This is so contrary, not&lt;br /&gt;only to historical convention but to common platitude,&lt;br /&gt;that I shall find no ground either of surprise or censure&lt;br /&gt;if it takes a perceptible time before it sinks into the&lt;br /&gt;mind of the English public.  But I think, ladies and&lt;br /&gt;gentlemen, that this period is notably abbreviated by&lt;br /&gt;the remarkable exposition which we have heard today.&lt;br /&gt;For this question of the attitude of Islam toward&lt;br /&gt;food affords as excellent an example of its special&lt;br /&gt;mode of progressive purification as the more popular&lt;br /&gt;example of its attitude toward drink.  For it illustrates&lt;br /&gt;that principle which I have ventured to call the&lt;br /&gt;principle of the Crescent: the principle of perpetual&lt;br /&gt;growth toward an implied and infinite perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The great religion of Islam does not of itself&lt;br /&gt;forbid the eating of flesh foods.  But, in accordance with&lt;br /&gt;that principle of growth which is its life, it has pointed&lt;br /&gt;the way to a perfection not yet perhaps fully attainable&lt;br /&gt;by our nature; it has taken a plain and strong example&lt;br /&gt;of the dangers of meat-eating; and hung up the&lt;br /&gt;repellent carcass as a warning and a sign.  In the&lt;br /&gt;gradual emergence of mankind from a gross and&lt;br /&gt;sanguinary mode of sustenance, the Semite has led the way.&lt;br /&gt;He has laid, as it were, a symbolic embargo upon the&lt;br /&gt;beast typical, the beast of beasts.  With the instinct&lt;br /&gt;of the true mystic, he selected for exemption from&lt;br /&gt;such cannibal feasts the creature which appeals to&lt;br /&gt;both sides of the higher vegetarian ethic.  The pig&lt;br /&gt;is at once the creature whose helplessness most moves&lt;br /&gt;our pity and whose ugliness most repels our taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It would be foolish to affirm that no difficulty&lt;br /&gt;arises out of the different stages of moral evolution&lt;br /&gt;in which the different races find themselves.  Thus it&lt;br /&gt;is constantly said, and such things are not said&lt;br /&gt;without some excuse in document or incident, that&lt;br /&gt;followers of the Prophet have specialised in the arts of&lt;br /&gt;war and have come into a contact, not invariably&lt;br /&gt;friendly, with those Hindoos of India who have&lt;br /&gt;specialised in the arts of Peace.  In the same way the&lt;br /&gt;Hindoos, it must be confessed, have been almost as&lt;br /&gt;much in advance of Islam in the question of meat as&lt;br /&gt;Islam is in advance of Christianity in the matter of&lt;br /&gt;drink.  It must be remembered again and again, ladies&lt;br /&gt;and gentlemen, that every allegation we have of any&lt;br /&gt;difference between Hindoo and Moslem comes&lt;br /&gt;through a Christian channel, and is therefore tainted&lt;br /&gt;evidence.  But in this matter, even, can we not see the&lt;br /&gt;perils of disregarding such plain danger signals as the&lt;br /&gt;veto on pork?  Did not an Empire nearly slip out of&lt;br /&gt;our hands because our hands were greased with cow-fat?  And did not the well of Cawnpore brim with&lt;br /&gt;blood instead of water because we would not listen to&lt;br /&gt;the instinct of the Oriental about the shedding of&lt;br /&gt;sacred blood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But if it be proposed, with whatever graduation,&lt;br /&gt;to approach that repudiation of flesh food which&lt;br /&gt;Buddhism mainly and Islam partly recommends, it will&lt;br /&gt;always be asked by those who hate the very vision of&lt;br /&gt;Progress--'Where do you draw the line?  May I eat&lt;br /&gt;oysters?  May I eat eggs?  May I drink milk?'  You&lt;br /&gt;may.  You may eat or drink anything essential to your&lt;br /&gt;stage of evolution, so long as you are evolving toward&lt;br /&gt;a clearer and cleaner ideal of bodily life.  If," he said&lt;br /&gt;gravely, "I may employ a phrase of flippancy, I would&lt;br /&gt;say that you may eat six dozen oysters today, but I&lt;br /&gt;should strongly advise five dozen oysters tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;For how else has all progress in public or private&lt;br /&gt;manners been achieved?  Would not the primitive&lt;br /&gt;cannibals be surprised at the strange distinction we draw&lt;br /&gt;between men and beasts?  All historians pay high&lt;br /&gt;honour to the Huguenots, and the great Huguenot Prince,&lt;br /&gt;Henri Quatre.  None need deny that his aspiration&lt;br /&gt;that every Frenchman should have a chicken in his&lt;br /&gt;pot was, for his period, a high aspiration.  It is no&lt;br /&gt;disrespect to him that we, mounting to higher levels,&lt;br /&gt;and looking down longer perspectives, consider the&lt;br /&gt;chicken.  And this august march of discovery passes&lt;br /&gt;figures higher than that of Henry of Navarre.  I shall&lt;br /&gt;always give a high place, as Islam has always given a&lt;br /&gt;high place, to that figure, mythical or no, which we&lt;br /&gt;find presiding over the foundations of Christianity.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot doubt that the fable, incredible and revolting&lt;br /&gt;otherwise, which records the rush of swine into the&lt;br /&gt;sea, was an allegory of his early realisation that a&lt;br /&gt;spirit, evil indeed, does reside in all animals in so far&lt;br /&gt;as they tempt us to devour them.  I cannot doubt that&lt;br /&gt;the Prodigal leaving his sins among the swine is&lt;br /&gt;another illustration of the great thesis of the Prophet&lt;br /&gt;of the Moon.  But here, also, progress and relativity&lt;br /&gt;are relentless in their advance; and not a few of us&lt;br /&gt;may have risen today to the point of regretting that&lt;br /&gt;the joyful sounds around the return of the Prodigal&lt;br /&gt;should be marred by the moaning of a calf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For the rest, he who asks us whither we go knows&lt;br /&gt;not the meaning of Progress.  If we come at last to&lt;br /&gt;live on light, as men said of the chameleon, if some&lt;br /&gt;cosmic magic closed to us now, as radium was but&lt;br /&gt;recently closed, allows us to transmute the very metals&lt;br /&gt;into flesh without breaking into the bloody house of&lt;br /&gt;life, we shall know these things when we have achieved&lt;br /&gt;them.  It is enough for us now if we have reached a&lt;br /&gt;spiritual station, in which at least the living head we&lt;br /&gt;lop has not eyes to reproach us; and the herbs we&lt;br /&gt;gather cannot cry against our cruelty like the&lt;br /&gt;mandrake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood resumed his seat, his colourless lips&lt;br /&gt;still moving.  By some previous arrangement, probably,&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Leveson rose to move a motion about Vegetarianism.&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Leveson was of opinion that the Jewish&lt;br /&gt;and Moslem veto on pork had been the origin of&lt;br /&gt;Vegetarianism.  He thought it was a great step, and&lt;br /&gt;showed how progressive the creed could be.  He&lt;br /&gt;thought the persecution of the Hindoos by Moslems&lt;br /&gt;had probably been much exaggerated; he thought our&lt;br /&gt;experience in the Indian Mutiny showed we considered&lt;br /&gt;the feeling of Easterners too little in such matters.&lt;br /&gt;He thought Vegetarianism in some ways an advance&lt;br /&gt;on orthodox Christianity.  He thought we must be&lt;br /&gt;ready for yet further advances; and he sat down.&lt;br /&gt;And as he had said precisely, clause by clause, everything&lt;br /&gt;that Lord Ivywood had said, it is needless to say&lt;br /&gt;that that nobleman afterward congratulated him on&lt;br /&gt;the boldness and originality of his brilliant speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a similar sort of preconcerted signal, Hibbs&lt;br /&gt;However rose rather vaguely to his feet to second the&lt;br /&gt;motion.  He rather prided himself on being a man of&lt;br /&gt;few words, in the vocal sense; he was no orator, as&lt;br /&gt;Brutus was.  It was only with pen in hand, in an&lt;br /&gt;office lined with works of reference, that he could feel&lt;br /&gt;that sense of confused responsibility that was the one&lt;br /&gt;pleasure of his life.  But on this occasion he was&lt;br /&gt;brighter than usual; partly because he liked being in&lt;br /&gt;a lord's house; partly because he had never tasted&lt;br /&gt;champagne before, and he felt as if it agreed with&lt;br /&gt;him; partly because he saw in the subject of Progress&lt;br /&gt;an infinite opportunity of splitting hairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever," said Hibbs, with a solemn cough,&lt;br /&gt;"whatever we may think of the old belief that&lt;br /&gt;Moslems have differed from Buddhism in a regrettable&lt;br /&gt;way, there can be no doubt the responsibility lay with&lt;br /&gt;the Christian Churches.  Had the Free Churches put&lt;br /&gt;their foot down and met Messrs. Opalstein's demand,&lt;br /&gt;we should have heard nothing of these old differences&lt;br /&gt;between one belief and another."  As it was, it&lt;br /&gt;reminded him of Napoleon.  He gave his own opinion&lt;br /&gt;for what it was worth, but he was not afraid to say at&lt;br /&gt;any cost, even there and in that company, that this&lt;br /&gt;business of Asiatic vegetation had occupied less of the&lt;br /&gt;time of the Wesleyan Conference than it should have&lt;br /&gt;done.  He would be the last to say, of course, that&lt;br /&gt;anyone was in any sense to blame.  They all knew&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Coon's qualifications.  They all knew as well as&lt;br /&gt;he did, that a more strenuous social worker than&lt;br /&gt;Charles Chadder had never rallied the forces of&lt;br /&gt;progress.  But that which was not really an indiscretion&lt;br /&gt;might be represented as an indiscretion, and perhaps&lt;br /&gt;we had had enough of that just lately.  It was all very&lt;br /&gt;well to talk about Coffe but it should be remembered,&lt;br /&gt;with no disrespect to those in Canada to whom we&lt;br /&gt;owe so much, that all that happened before 1891.  No&lt;br /&gt;one had less desire to offend our Ritualistic friends&lt;br /&gt;than he did, but he had no hesitation in saying that&lt;br /&gt;the question was a question that could be asked, and&lt;br /&gt;though no doubt, from one point of view the goat's--.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan moved sharply in her chair, as if gripped&lt;br /&gt;by sudden pain.  And, indeed, she had suddenly felt&lt;br /&gt;the chronic and recurrent pain of her life.  She was&lt;br /&gt;brave about bodily pain, as are most women, even&lt;br /&gt;luxurious women: but the torment that from time to time&lt;br /&gt;returned and tore her was one to which many&lt;br /&gt;philosophical names have been given, but no name so&lt;br /&gt;philosophical as Boredom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She felt she could not stand a minute more of Mr.&lt;br /&gt;Hibbs.  She felt she would die if she heard about the&lt;br /&gt;goats--from one or any point of view.  She slipped&lt;br /&gt;from her chair and somehow slid round the corner, in&lt;br /&gt;pretence of seeking one of the tables of refreshment in&lt;br /&gt;the new wing.  She was soon among the new oriental&lt;br /&gt;apartments, now almost completed; but she took no&lt;br /&gt;refreshments, though attenuated tables could still be&lt;br /&gt;found here and there.  She threw herself on an&lt;br /&gt;ottoman and stared toward the empty and elfin turret&lt;br /&gt;chambers in which Ivywood had made her understand&lt;br /&gt;that he, also, could thirst for beauty and desire to be&lt;br /&gt;at peace.  He certainly had a poetry of his own, after&lt;br /&gt;all; a poetry that never touched earth; the poetry of&lt;br /&gt;Shelley rather than Shakespeare.  His phrase about&lt;br /&gt;the fairy turret was true: it did look like the end of&lt;br /&gt;the world.  It did seem to teach her that there is&lt;br /&gt;always some serene limit at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She started and half rose on her elbow with a small&lt;br /&gt;laugh.  A dog of ludicrous but familiar appearance&lt;br /&gt;came shuffling toward her and she lifted herself in the&lt;br /&gt;act of lifting him.  She also lifted her head, and saw&lt;br /&gt;something that seemed to her, in a sense more Christian&lt;br /&gt;and catastrophic, very like the end of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER XII&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VEGETARIANISM IN THE FOREST&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUMPHREY PUMP'S cooking of a fungus in an old&lt;br /&gt;frying-pan (which he had found on the beach) was&lt;br /&gt;extremely typical of him.  He was, indeed, without any&lt;br /&gt;pretence of book-learning, a certain kind of scientific&lt;br /&gt;man that science has really been unfortunate in losing.&lt;br /&gt;He was the old-fashioned English Naturalist like&lt;br /&gt;Gilbert White or even Isaac Walton, who learned things&lt;br /&gt;not academically like an American Professor, but&lt;br /&gt;actually, like an American Indian.  And every truth a&lt;br /&gt;man has found out as a man of science is always&lt;br /&gt;subtly different from any truth he has found out as a&lt;br /&gt;man, because a man's family, friends, habits and social&lt;br /&gt;type have always got well under way before he has&lt;br /&gt;thoroughly learned the theory of anything.  For&lt;br /&gt;instance, any eminent botanist at a _SoirÈe_ of the Royal&lt;br /&gt;Society could tell you, of course, that other edible&lt;br /&gt;fungi exist, as well as mushrooms and truffles.  But&lt;br /&gt;long before he was a botanist, still less an eminent&lt;br /&gt;botanist, he had begun, so to speak, on a basis of&lt;br /&gt;mushrooms and truffles.  He felt, in a vague way, that these&lt;br /&gt;were really edible, that mushrooms were a moderate&lt;br /&gt;luxury, proper to the middle classes, while truffles&lt;br /&gt;were a much more expensive luxury, more suitable to&lt;br /&gt;the Smart Set.  But the old English Naturalists, of&lt;br /&gt;whom Isaac Walton was perhaps the first, and Humphrey&lt;br /&gt;Pump perhaps the last, had in many cases really&lt;br /&gt;begun at the other end, and found by experience (often&lt;br /&gt;most disastrous experience) that some fungi are&lt;br /&gt;wholesome and some are not; but the wholesome ones&lt;br /&gt;are, on a whole, the majority.  So a man like Pump&lt;br /&gt;was no more afraid of a fungus as such than he was&lt;br /&gt;of an animal as such.  He no more started with the&lt;br /&gt;supposition that a grey or purple growth on a stone&lt;br /&gt;must be a poisonous growth than he started with the&lt;br /&gt;supposition that the dog who came to him out of the&lt;br /&gt;wood must be a mad dog.  Most of them he knew;&lt;br /&gt;those he did not know he treated with rational&lt;br /&gt;caution, but to him, as a whole race, these weird-hued&lt;br /&gt;and one-legged goblins of the forests were creatures&lt;br /&gt;friendly to man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You see," he said to his friend the Captain, "eating&lt;br /&gt;vegetables isn't half bad, so long as you know what&lt;br /&gt;vegetables there are and eat all of them that you can.&lt;br /&gt;But there are two ways where it goes wrong among&lt;br /&gt;the gentry.  First, they've never had to eat a carrot&lt;br /&gt;or a potato because it was all there was in the house; so&lt;br /&gt;they've never learnt how to be really hungry for&lt;br /&gt;carrots, as that donkey might be.  They only know the&lt;br /&gt;vegetables that are meant to help the meat.  They&lt;br /&gt;know you take duck and peas; and when they turn&lt;br /&gt;vegetarian they can only think of the peas without&lt;br /&gt;the duck.  They know you take lobster in a salad; and&lt;br /&gt;when they turn vegetarian they can only think of the&lt;br /&gt;salad without the lobster.  But the other reason is&lt;br /&gt;worse.  There's plenty of good people even round&lt;br /&gt;here, and still more in the north, who get meat very&lt;br /&gt;seldom.  But then, when they do get it, they gobble&lt;br /&gt;it up like good 'uns.  But the trouble with the gentry&lt;br /&gt;is different.  The trouble is, the same sort of gentry&lt;br /&gt;that don't want to eat meat don't really want to eat&lt;br /&gt;anything.  The man called a Vegetarian who goes&lt;br /&gt;to Ivywood House is generally like a cow trying to&lt;br /&gt;live on a blade of grass a day.  You and I, Captain,&lt;br /&gt;have pretty well been vegetarians for some time, so as&lt;br /&gt;not to break into the cheese, and we haven't found it&lt;br /&gt;so difficult, because we eat as much as we can."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's not so difficult as being teetotallers," answered&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy, "so as not to break into the cask.  But I'll&lt;br /&gt;never deny that I feel the better for that, too, on the&lt;br /&gt;whole.  But only because I could leave off being one&lt;br /&gt;whenever I chose.  And, now I come to think of it,"&lt;br /&gt;he cried, with one of his odd returns of animal energy,&lt;br /&gt;"if I'm to be a vegetarian why shouldn't I drink?&lt;br /&gt;Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink?&lt;br /&gt;Why shouldn't I take vegetables in their highest form,&lt;br /&gt;so to speak?  The modest vegetarians ought obviously&lt;br /&gt;to stick to wine or beer, plain vegetarian drinks,&lt;br /&gt;instead of filling their goblets with the blood of bulls&lt;br /&gt;and elephants, as all conventional meat-eaters do, I&lt;br /&gt;suppose.  What is the matter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing," answered Pump.  "I was looking out&lt;br /&gt;for somebody who generally turns up about this time.&lt;br /&gt;But I think I'm fast."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I should never have thought so from the look of&lt;br /&gt;you," answered the Captain, "but what I'm saying is&lt;br /&gt;that the drinking of decent fermented liquor is just&lt;br /&gt;simply the triumph of vegetarianism.  Why, it's an&lt;br /&gt;inspiring idea!  I could write a sort of song about it.&lt;br /&gt;As, for instance--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "You will find me drinking rum&lt;br /&gt;     Like a sailor in a slum,&lt;br /&gt;      You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian;&lt;br /&gt;     You will find me drinking gin&lt;br /&gt;     In the lowest kind of inn,&lt;br /&gt;      Because I am a rigid Vegetarian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, it's a vista of verbal felicity and spiritual&lt;br /&gt;edification!  It has I don't know how many hundred&lt;br /&gt;aspects!  Let's see; how could the second verse go?&lt;br /&gt;Something like--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "So I cleared the inn of wine,&lt;br /&gt;     And I tried to climb the Sign;&lt;br /&gt;       And I tried to hail the constable as 'Marion';&lt;br /&gt;     But he said I couldn't speak,&lt;br /&gt;     And he bowled me to the Beak,&lt;br /&gt;       Because I was a Happy Vegetarian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I really think something instructive to the human race&lt;br /&gt;may come out of all this . . . Hullo!  Is that&lt;br /&gt;what you were looking for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quadruped Quoodle came in out of the woods a&lt;br /&gt;whole minute later than the usual time and took his&lt;br /&gt;seat beside Humphrey's left foot with a preoccupied&lt;br /&gt;air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good old boy," said the Captain.  "You seem to&lt;br /&gt;have taken quite a fancy to us.  I doubt, Hump, if&lt;br /&gt;he's properly looked after up at the house.  I&lt;br /&gt;particularly don't want to talk against Ivywood, Hump.  I&lt;br /&gt;don't want his soul to be able in all eternity to accuse&lt;br /&gt;my soul of a mean detraction.  I want to be fair to&lt;br /&gt;him, because I hate him like hell, and he has taken&lt;br /&gt;from me all for which I lived.  But I don't think, with&lt;br /&gt;all this in my mind, I don't think I say anything beyond&lt;br /&gt;what he would own himself (for his brain is clear)&lt;br /&gt;when I say that he could never understand an animal.&lt;br /&gt;And so he could never understand the animal side of&lt;br /&gt;a man.  He doesn't know to this day, Hump, that&lt;br /&gt;your sight and hearing are sixty times quicker than&lt;br /&gt;his.  He doesn't know that I have a better circulation.&lt;br /&gt;That explains the extraordinary people he picks up and&lt;br /&gt;acts with; he never looks at them as you and I look&lt;br /&gt;at that dog.  There was a fellow calling himself&lt;br /&gt;Gluck who was (mainly by Ivywood's influence, I&lt;br /&gt;believe) his colleague on the Turkish Conferences,&lt;br /&gt;being supposed to represent Germany.  My dear&lt;br /&gt;Hump, he was a man that a great gentleman like&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood ought not to have touched with a barge-pole.  It's&lt;br /&gt;not the race he was--if it was one race--it's the Sort&lt;br /&gt;he was.  A coarse, common, Levantine nark and eaves-dropper--but you mustn't lose your temper, Hump.  I&lt;br /&gt;implore you, Hump, to control this tendency to lose&lt;br /&gt;your temper when talking at any length about such&lt;br /&gt;people.  Have recourse, Hump, to that consoling system&lt;br /&gt;of versification which I have already explained to&lt;br /&gt;you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Oh I knew a Doctor Gluck,&lt;br /&gt;     And his nose it had a hook,&lt;br /&gt;       And his attitudes were anything but Aryan;&lt;br /&gt;     So I gave him all the pork&lt;br /&gt;     That I had, upon a fork;&lt;br /&gt;       Because I am myself a Vegetarian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you are," said Humphrey Pump, "You'd better&lt;br /&gt;come and eat some vegetables.  The White Hat can&lt;br /&gt;be eaten cold--or raw, for that matter.  But&lt;br /&gt;Bloodspots wants some cooking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are right, Hump," said Dalroy, seating&lt;br /&gt;himself with every appearance of speechless greed.  "I&lt;br /&gt;will be silent.  As the poet says--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "I am silent in the Club,&lt;br /&gt;     I am silent in the pub,&lt;br /&gt;       I am silent on a bally peak in Darien;&lt;br /&gt;     For I stuff away for life,&lt;br /&gt;     Shoving peas in with a knife,&lt;br /&gt;       Because I am at heart a Vegetarian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He fell to his food with great gusto, dispatched a&lt;br /&gt;good deal of it in a very short time, threw a glance of&lt;br /&gt;gloomy envy at the cask, and then sprang to his feet&lt;br /&gt;again.  He caught up the inn-sign from where it&lt;br /&gt;leant against the Pantomime Cottage, and planted it&lt;br /&gt;like a pike in the ground beside him.  Then he began&lt;br /&gt;to sing again, in an even louder voice than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "O, Lord Ivywood may lop,&lt;br /&gt;       And his privilege is sylvan and riparian;&lt;br /&gt;     And is also free to top,&lt;br /&gt;     But--."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know," said Hump, also finishing his lunch,&lt;br /&gt;"that I'm rather tired of that particular tune?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tired, is it?" said the indignant Irishman, "then&lt;br /&gt;I'll sing you a longer song, to an even worse tune,&lt;br /&gt;about more and more vegetarians, and you shall see&lt;br /&gt;me dance as well; and I will dance till you burst into&lt;br /&gt;tears and offer me the half of your kingdom; and I&lt;br /&gt;shall ask for Mr. Leveson's head on the frying-pan.&lt;br /&gt;For this, let me tell you, is a song of oriental origin,&lt;br /&gt;celebrating the caprices of an ancient Babylonian&lt;br /&gt;Sultan and should be performed in palaces of ivory with&lt;br /&gt;palm trees and a bulbul accompaniment."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he began to bellow another and older lyric of&lt;br /&gt;his own on vegetarianism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Nebuchadnezzar, the King of the Jews,&lt;br /&gt;     Suffered from new and original views,&lt;br /&gt;     He crawled on his hands and knees it's said,&lt;br /&gt;     With grass in his mouth and a crown on his head,&lt;br /&gt;        With a wowtyiddly, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Those in traditional paths that trod,&lt;br /&gt;     Thought the thing was a curse from God;&lt;br /&gt;     But a Pioneer men always abuse,&lt;br /&gt;     Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy, as he sang this, actually began to dance&lt;br /&gt;about like a ballet girl, an enormous and ridiculous&lt;br /&gt;figure in the sunlight, waving the wooden sign around&lt;br /&gt;his head.  Quoodle opened his eyes and pricked up&lt;br /&gt;his ears and seemed much interested in these&lt;br /&gt;extraordinary evolutions.  Suddenly, with one of those&lt;br /&gt;startling changes that will transfigure the most sedentary&lt;br /&gt;dogs, Quoodle decided that the dance was a game, and&lt;br /&gt;began to bark and bound round the performer, sometimes&lt;br /&gt;leaping so far into the air as almost to threaten&lt;br /&gt;the man's throat.  But, though the sailor naturally&lt;br /&gt;knew less about dogs than the countryman, he knew&lt;br /&gt;enough about them (as about many other things) not&lt;br /&gt;to be afraid, and the voice he sang with might have&lt;br /&gt;drowned the baying of a pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Black Lord Foulon the Frenchmen slew,&lt;br /&gt;     Thought it a Futurist thing to do;&lt;br /&gt;     He offered them grass instead of bread,&lt;br /&gt;     So they stuffed him with grass when they cut off his head.&lt;br /&gt;        With a wowtyiddly, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "For the pride of his soul he perished then,&lt;br /&gt;     But of course it is always of Pride that men&lt;br /&gt;     A Man in Advance of his Age accuse&lt;br /&gt;     Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Simeon Scudder of Styx, in Maine,&lt;br /&gt;     Thought of the thing and was at it again;&lt;br /&gt;     He gave good grass and water in pails&lt;br /&gt;     To a thousand Irishmen hammering rails,&lt;br /&gt;        With a wowtyiddly, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Appetites differ, and tied to a stake,&lt;br /&gt;     He was tarred and feathered for Conscience Sake;&lt;br /&gt;     But stoning the prophets is ancient news,&lt;br /&gt;     Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an abandon, unusual even for him, he had danced&lt;br /&gt;his way down through the thistles into the jungle of&lt;br /&gt;weeds risen round the sunken Chapel.  And the dog,&lt;br /&gt;now fully convinced that it was not only a game but&lt;br /&gt;an expedition, perhaps a hunting expedition, ran barking&lt;br /&gt;in front of him, along the path that his own dog's&lt;br /&gt;paws had already burst through the tangle.  Before&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Dalroy well knew what he was doing, or even&lt;br /&gt;remembered that he still carried the ridiculous sign-board in his hand, he found himself outside the open&lt;br /&gt;porch of a sort of narrow tower at the angle of a&lt;br /&gt;building which, to the best of his recollection, he had&lt;br /&gt;never seen before.  Quoodle instantly ran up four or&lt;br /&gt;five steps in the dark staircase inside, and then, lifting&lt;br /&gt;his ears again, looked back for his companion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is, perhaps, such a thing as asking too much&lt;br /&gt;of a man.  If there is, it was asking too much of&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Dalroy to ask him not to accept so eccentric an&lt;br /&gt;invitation.  Hurriedly plunging his unwieldy wooden&lt;br /&gt;ensign upright in the thick of thistles and grass, he&lt;br /&gt;bent his gigantic neck and shoulders to enter the&lt;br /&gt;porch, and proceeded to climb the stairs.  It was quite&lt;br /&gt;dark, and it was only after at least two twists of the&lt;br /&gt;stone spiral that he saw light ahead of him, and then&lt;br /&gt;it was a sort of rent in the wall that seemed to him&lt;br /&gt;as ragged as the mouth of a Cornish cave.  It was&lt;br /&gt;also so low that he had some difficulty in squeezing&lt;br /&gt;his bulk through it, but the dog had jumped through&lt;br /&gt;with an air of familiarity, and once more looked back&lt;br /&gt;to see him follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If he had found himself inside any ordinary domestic&lt;br /&gt;interior, he would instantly have repented his&lt;br /&gt;escapade and gone back.  But he found himself in&lt;br /&gt;surroundings which he had never seen before, or even,&lt;br /&gt;in one sense, believed possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first feeling was that he was walking in the&lt;br /&gt;most sealed and secret suite of apartments in the castle&lt;br /&gt;of a dream.  All the chambers had that air of&lt;br /&gt;perpetually opening inwards which is the soul of the&lt;br /&gt;Arabian Nights.  And the ornament was of the same&lt;br /&gt;tradition; gorgeous and flamboyant, yet featureless&lt;br /&gt;and stiff.  A purple mansion seemed to be built inside&lt;br /&gt;a green mansion and a golden mansion inside that.&lt;br /&gt;And the quaintly cut doorways or fretted lattices all&lt;br /&gt;had wavy lines like a dancing sea, and for some reason&lt;br /&gt;(sea-sickness for all he knew) this gave him a feeling&lt;br /&gt;as if the place were beautiful but faintly evil: as if it&lt;br /&gt;were bored and twisted for the fallen palace of the&lt;br /&gt;Worm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he had also another sensation which he could&lt;br /&gt;not analyze; for it reminded him of being a fly on the&lt;br /&gt;ceiling or the wall.  Was it the Hanging Gardens of&lt;br /&gt;Babylon coming back to his imagination; or the Castle&lt;br /&gt;East of the Sun and West of the Moon?  Then he&lt;br /&gt;remembered that in some boyish illness he had stared&lt;br /&gt;at a rather Moorish sort of wall paper, which was like&lt;br /&gt;rows and rows of brightly coloured corridors, empty&lt;br /&gt;and going on forever.  And he remembered that a fly&lt;br /&gt;was walking along one of the parallel lines; and it&lt;br /&gt;seemed to his childish fancy that the corridors were&lt;br /&gt;all dead in front of the fly, but all came to life as he&lt;br /&gt;passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"By George!" he cried, "I wonder whether that's&lt;br /&gt;the real truth about East and West!  That the&lt;br /&gt;gorgeous East offers everything needed for adventures&lt;br /&gt;except the man to enjoy them.  It would explain the&lt;br /&gt;tradition of the Crusades uncommonly well.  Perhaps&lt;br /&gt;that's what God meant by Europe and Asia.  We&lt;br /&gt;dress the characters and they paint the scenery.  Well,&lt;br /&gt;anyhow, three of the least Asiatic things in the world&lt;br /&gt;are lost in this endless Asiatic palace--a good dog, a&lt;br /&gt;straight sword, and an Irishman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as he went down this telescope of tropical colours&lt;br /&gt;he really felt something of that hard fatalistic&lt;br /&gt;freedom of the heroes (or should we say villains?)&lt;br /&gt;in the Arabian Nights.  He was prepared for any&lt;br /&gt;impossibility.  He would hardly have been surprised&lt;br /&gt;if from under the lid of one of the porcelain pots&lt;br /&gt;standing in a corner had come a serpentine string of&lt;br /&gt;blue or yellow smoke, as if some wizard's oil were&lt;br /&gt;within.  He would hardly have been surprised if from&lt;br /&gt;under the curtains or closed doors had crawled out a&lt;br /&gt;snaky track of blood, or if a dumb negro dressed in&lt;br /&gt;white had come out with a bow string, having done&lt;br /&gt;his work.  He would not have been surprised if he had&lt;br /&gt;walked suddenly into the still chamber of some Sultan&lt;br /&gt;asleep, whom to wake was a death in torments.  And&lt;br /&gt;yet he was very much more surprised by what he did&lt;br /&gt;see, and when he saw it, he was certain at last that&lt;br /&gt;he was only wandering in the labyrinth of his own&lt;br /&gt;brain.  For what he saw was what was really in the&lt;br /&gt;core of all his dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What he saw, indeed, was more appropriate to that&lt;br /&gt;inmost eastern chamber than anything he had imagined.&lt;br /&gt;On a divan of blood-red and orange cushions&lt;br /&gt;lay a startlingly beautiful woman, with a skin almost&lt;br /&gt;swarthy enough for an Arab's, and who might well&lt;br /&gt;have been the Princess proper to such an Arabian&lt;br /&gt;tale.  But in truth it was not her appropriateness to&lt;br /&gt;the scene, but rather her inappropriateness, that made&lt;br /&gt;his heart bound.  It was not her strangeness but her&lt;br /&gt;familiarity that made his big feet suddenly stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog ran on yet more rapidly, and the princess&lt;br /&gt;on the sofa welcomed him warmly, lifting him on&lt;br /&gt;his short hind legs.  Then she looked up, and seemed&lt;br /&gt;turned to stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bismillah," said the oriental traveller, affably, "may&lt;br /&gt;your shadow never grow less--or more, as the ladies&lt;br /&gt;would say.  The Commander of the Faithful has deputed&lt;br /&gt;his least competent slave to bring you back a dog.&lt;br /&gt;Owing to temporary delay in collecting the fifteen&lt;br /&gt;largest diamonds in the moon, he has been compelled&lt;br /&gt;to send the animal without any collar.  Those responsible&lt;br /&gt;for the delay will instantly be beaten to death,&lt;br /&gt;with the tails of dragons--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The frightful shock, which had not yet left the&lt;br /&gt;lady's face, brought him back to responsible speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In short," he said, "in the name of the Prophet,&lt;br /&gt;dog.  I say, Joan, I wish this wasn't a dream."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It isn't," said the girl, speaking for the first time,&lt;br /&gt;"and I don't know yet whether I wish it was."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," argued the dreamer, rationally, "what are&lt;br /&gt;you, anytime, if you're not a dream--or a vision?&lt;br /&gt;And what are all these rooms, if they aren't a dream&lt;br /&gt;--or rather a nightmare?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is the new wing of Ivywood House," said&lt;br /&gt;the lady addressed as Joan, speaking with great&lt;br /&gt;difficulty.  "Lord Ivywood has fitted them up in the&lt;br /&gt;eastern style; he is inside conducting a most interesting&lt;br /&gt;debate in defence of Eastern Vegetarianism.  I only&lt;br /&gt;came out because the room was rather hot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Vegetarian!" cried Dalroy, with abrupt and rather&lt;br /&gt;unreasonable exasperation.  "That table seems to fall&lt;br /&gt;a bit short of Vegetarianism."  And he pointed to one&lt;br /&gt;of the long, narrow tables, laid somewhere in almost&lt;br /&gt;all the central rooms, and loaded with elaborate cold&lt;br /&gt;meats and expensive wines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He must be liberal-minded," cried Joan, who&lt;br /&gt;seemed to be on the verge of something, possibly&lt;br /&gt;temper.  "He can't expect people suddenly to begin being&lt;br /&gt;Vegetarians when they've never been before."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It has been done," said Dalroy, tranquilly, walking&lt;br /&gt;across to look at the table.  "I say, your ascetical&lt;br /&gt;friends seem to have made a pretty good hole in the&lt;br /&gt;champagne.  You may not believe it, Joan, but I&lt;br /&gt;haven't touched what you call alcohol for a month."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With which words he filled with champagne a large&lt;br /&gt;tumbler intended for claret cup and swallowed it at a&lt;br /&gt;draught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lady Joan Brett stood up straight but trembling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now that's really wrong, Pat," she cried.  "Oh,&lt;br /&gt;don't be silly--you know I don't care about the alcohol&lt;br /&gt;or all that.  But you're in the man's house, uninvited,&lt;br /&gt;and he doesn't know.  That wasn't like you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He shall know, all right," said the large man,&lt;br /&gt;quietly.  "I know the exact price of a tumbler of that&lt;br /&gt;champagne."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he scribbled some words in pencil on the back&lt;br /&gt;of a bill of fare on the table, and then carefully laid&lt;br /&gt;three shillings on top of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And there you do Philip the worst wrong of all,"&lt;br /&gt;cried Lady Joan, flaming white.  "You know as well&lt;br /&gt;as I do, anyhow, that he would not take your money."&lt;br /&gt;Patrick Dalroy stood looking at her for some&lt;br /&gt;seconds with an expression on his broad and unusually&lt;br /&gt;open face which she found utterly puzzling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Curiously enough," he observed, at last, and with&lt;br /&gt;absolutely even temper, "curiously enough, it is you&lt;br /&gt;who are doing Philip Ivywood a wrong.  I think&lt;br /&gt;him quite capable of breaking England or Creation.&lt;br /&gt;But I do honestly think he would never break his word.&lt;br /&gt;And what is more, I think the more arbitrary and&lt;br /&gt;literal his word had been, the more he would keep it.&lt;br /&gt;You will never understand a man like that, till you&lt;br /&gt;understand that he can have devotion to a definition;&lt;br /&gt;even a new definition.  He can really feel about an&lt;br /&gt;amendment to an Act of Parliament, inserted at the&lt;br /&gt;last moment, as you feel about England or your&lt;br /&gt;mother."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, don't philosophise," cried Joan suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;"Can't you see this has been a shock?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I only want you to see the point," he replied.  "Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood clearly told me, with his own careful lips,&lt;br /&gt;that I might go in and pay for fermented liquor in any&lt;br /&gt;place displaying a public sign outside.  And he won't&lt;br /&gt;go back on that definition or on any definition.  If he&lt;br /&gt;finds me here, he may quite possibly put me in prison&lt;br /&gt;on some other charge, as a thief or a vagabond, or&lt;br /&gt;what not.  But he will not grudge the champagne.&lt;br /&gt;And he will accept the three shillings.  And I shall&lt;br /&gt;honour him for his glorious consistency."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand," said Joan, "one word of what&lt;br /&gt;you are talking about.  Which way did you come?&lt;br /&gt;How can I get you away?  You don't seem to grasp&lt;br /&gt;that you're in Ivywood House."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You see there's a new name outside the gate,"&lt;br /&gt;observed Patrick, conversationally, and led the lady to&lt;br /&gt;the end of the corridor by which he had entered and&lt;br /&gt;into its ultimate turret chamber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following his indications, Lady Joan peered a little&lt;br /&gt;over the edge of the window where hung the brilliant&lt;br /&gt;purple bird in its brilliant golden cage.  Almost&lt;br /&gt;immediately below, outside the entrance to the half-closed&lt;br /&gt;stairway, stood a wooden tavern sign, as solid and still&lt;br /&gt;as if it had been there for centuries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All back at the sign of 'The Old Ship,' you see,"&lt;br /&gt;said the Captain.  "Can I offer you anything in a lady-like way?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a vast impudence in the slight, hospitable&lt;br /&gt;movement of his hand, that disturbed Lady Joan's&lt;br /&gt;features with an emotion other than any that she desired&lt;br /&gt;to show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well!" cried Patrick, with a wild geniality, "I've&lt;br /&gt;made you laugh again, my dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He caught her to him as in a whirlwind, and then&lt;br /&gt;vanished from the fairy turret like a blast, leaving her&lt;br /&gt;standing with her hand up to her wild black hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER XIII&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE BATTLE OF THE TUNNEL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT Joan Brett really felt, as she went back from the&lt;br /&gt;second tÍte-–-tÍte she had experienced in the turret, it&lt;br /&gt;is doubtful if anyone will ever know.  But she was full&lt;br /&gt;of the pungent feminine instinct to "drive at practice,"&lt;br /&gt;and what she did clearly realise was the pencil writing&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy had left on the back of Lord Ivywood's _menu_.&lt;br /&gt;Heaven alone knew what it was, and (as it pleased&lt;br /&gt;her profane temper to tell herself) she was not&lt;br /&gt;satisfied with Heaven alone knowing.  She went swiftly&lt;br /&gt;back, with swishing skirts, to the table where it had&lt;br /&gt;been left.  But her skirts fell more softly and her feet&lt;br /&gt;trailed slower and more in her usual manner as she&lt;br /&gt;came near the table.  For standing at it was Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood, reading the card with tranquil lowered eyelids,&lt;br /&gt;that set off perfectly the long and perfect oval&lt;br /&gt;of his face.  He put down the card with a quite natural&lt;br /&gt;action; and, seeing Joan, smiled at her in his most&lt;br /&gt;sympathetic way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So you've come out too," he said.  "So have I;&lt;br /&gt;it's really too hot for anything.  Dr. Gluck is making&lt;br /&gt;an uncommonly good speech, but I couldn't stop even&lt;br /&gt;for that.  Don't you think my eastern decorations are&lt;br /&gt;rather a success after all?  A sort of Vegetarianism&lt;br /&gt;in design, isn't it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He led her up and down the corridors, pointing out&lt;br /&gt;lemon-coloured crescents or crimson pomegranates in&lt;br /&gt;the scheme of ornament, with such utter detachment&lt;br /&gt;that they twice passed the open mouth of the hall of&lt;br /&gt;debate, and Joan could distinctly hear the voice of&lt;br /&gt;the diplomatic Gluck saying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Indeed, we owe our knowledge of the pollution of&lt;br /&gt;the pork primarily to the Jewth and not the Mothlemth.&lt;br /&gt;I do not thare that prejudithe against the Jewth, which&lt;br /&gt;ith too common in my family and all the arithtocratic&lt;br /&gt;and military Prutthian familieth.  I think we Prutthian&lt;br /&gt;arithtocrats owe everything to the Jewth.  The&lt;br /&gt;Jewth have given to our old Teutonic rugged virtueth,&lt;br /&gt;jutht that touch of refinement, jutht that intellectual&lt;br /&gt;thuperiority which--."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the voice would die away behind, as Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood lectured luxuriantly, and very well, on the&lt;br /&gt;peacock tail in decoration, or some more extravagant&lt;br /&gt;eastern version of the Greek Key.  But the third time&lt;br /&gt;they turned, they heard the noise of subdued applause&lt;br /&gt;and the breaking up the meeting; and people came&lt;br /&gt;pouring forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With stillness and swiftness, Ivywood pitched on&lt;br /&gt;the people he wanted and held them.  He button-holed&lt;br /&gt;Leveson and was evidently asking him to do something&lt;br /&gt;which neither of the two liked doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If your lordship insists," she heard Leveson&lt;br /&gt;whispering, "of course I will go myself; but there is&lt;br /&gt;a great deal to be done here with your lordship's&lt;br /&gt;immediate matters.  And if there were anyone else--."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Philip, Lord Ivywood, had ever looked at a&lt;br /&gt;human being in his life, he would have seen that J.&lt;br /&gt;Leveson, Secretary, was suffering from a very ancient&lt;br /&gt;human malady, excusable in all men and rather more&lt;br /&gt;excusable in one who has had his top-hat smashed over&lt;br /&gt;his eyes and has run for his life.  As it was, he saw&lt;br /&gt;nothing, but merely said, "Oh, well, get someone else.&lt;br /&gt;What about your friend Hibbs?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leveson ran across to Hibbs, who was drinking&lt;br /&gt;another glass of champagne at one of the innumerable&lt;br /&gt;buffets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hibbs," said Leveson, rather nervously, "will you&lt;br /&gt;do Lord Ivywood a favour?  He says you have so&lt;br /&gt;much tact.  It seems possible that a man may be hanging&lt;br /&gt;about the grounds just below that turret there.&lt;br /&gt;He is a man it would certainly be Lord Ivywood's&lt;br /&gt;public duty to put into the hands of the police, if he&lt;br /&gt;is there.  But then, again, he is quite capable of not&lt;br /&gt;being there at all--I mean of having sent his message&lt;br /&gt;from somewhere else and in some other way.  Naturally,&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood doesn't want to alarm the ladies&lt;br /&gt;and perhaps turn the laugh against himself, by getting&lt;br /&gt;up a sort of police raid about nothing.  He wants some&lt;br /&gt;sensible, tactful friend of his to go down and look&lt;br /&gt;round the place--it's a sort of disused garden--and&lt;br /&gt;report if there's anyone about.  I'd go myself, but&lt;br /&gt;I'm wanted here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hibbs nodded, and filled another glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But there's a further difficulty," went on Leveson.&lt;br /&gt;"He's a clever brute, it seems, a 'remarkable and a&lt;br /&gt;dangerous man,' were his lordship's words; and it&lt;br /&gt;looks as if he'd spotted a very good hiding-place, a&lt;br /&gt;disused tunnel leading to the sands, just beyond the&lt;br /&gt;disused garden and chapel.  It's a smart choice, you&lt;br /&gt;see, for he can bolt into the woods if anyone comes&lt;br /&gt;from the shore, or on to the shore if anyone comes&lt;br /&gt;from the woods.  But it would take a good time even&lt;br /&gt;to get the police here, and it would take ten times&lt;br /&gt;longer to get 'em round to the sea end of the tunnel,&lt;br /&gt;especially as the sea comes up to the cliffs once or&lt;br /&gt;twice between here and Pebblewick.  So we mustn't&lt;br /&gt;frighten him away, or he'll get a start.  If you meet&lt;br /&gt;anyone down there talk to him quite naturally, and&lt;br /&gt;come back with the news.  We won't send for the&lt;br /&gt;police till you come.  Talk as if you were just&lt;br /&gt;wandering like himself.  His lordship wishes your presence&lt;br /&gt;to appear quite accidental."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wishes my presence to appear quite accidental,"&lt;br /&gt;repeated Hibbs, gravely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the feverish Leveson had flashed off satisfied,&lt;br /&gt;Hibbs took a glass or two more of wine; feeling&lt;br /&gt;that he was going on a great diplomatic mission to&lt;br /&gt;please a lord.  Then he went through the opening,&lt;br /&gt;picked his way down the stair, and somehow found his&lt;br /&gt;way out into the neglected garden and shrubbery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was already evening, and an early moon was&lt;br /&gt;brightening over the sunken chapel with its dragon-coloured scales of fungus.  The night breeze was very&lt;br /&gt;fresh and had a marked effect on Mr. Hibbs.  He&lt;br /&gt;found himself taking a meaningless pleasure in the&lt;br /&gt;scene; especially in one fungus that was white with&lt;br /&gt;brown spots.  He laughed shortly, to think that it&lt;br /&gt;should be white with brown spots.  Then he said, with&lt;br /&gt;carefully accurate articulation, "His lordship wishes&lt;br /&gt;my presence to appear quite accidental."  Then he&lt;br /&gt;tried to remember something else that Leveson had&lt;br /&gt;said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He began to wade through the waves of weed and&lt;br /&gt;thorn past the Chapel, but he found the soil much more&lt;br /&gt;uneven and obstructive than he had supposed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He slipped, and sought to save himself by throwing&lt;br /&gt;one arm round a broken stone angel at a corner of the&lt;br /&gt;heap of Gothic fragments; but it was loose and rocked&lt;br /&gt;in its socket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Hibbs presented for a moment the appearance&lt;br /&gt;of waltzing with the Angel in the moonlight, in a&lt;br /&gt;very amorous and irreverent manner.  Then the statue&lt;br /&gt;rolled over one way and he rolled over the other, and&lt;br /&gt;lay on his face in the grass, making inaudible remarks.&lt;br /&gt;He might have lain there for some time, or at least&lt;br /&gt;found some difficulty in rising, but for another&lt;br /&gt;circumstance.  The dog Quoodle, with characteristic&lt;br /&gt;officiousness, had followed him down the dark stairs and&lt;br /&gt;out of the doorway, and, finding him in this unusual&lt;br /&gt;posture, began to bark as if the house were on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This brought a heavy human footstep from the more&lt;br /&gt;hidden parts of the copse; and in a minute or two the&lt;br /&gt;large man with the red hair was looking down at him&lt;br /&gt;in undisguised wonder.  Hibbs said, in a muffled voice&lt;br /&gt;which came obscurely from under his hidden face,&lt;br /&gt;"Wish my presence to appear quite accidental."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It does," said the Captain, "can I help you up?  Are&lt;br /&gt;you hurt?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gently set the prostrate gentleman on his feet,&lt;br /&gt;and looked genuinely concerned.  The fall had somewhat&lt;br /&gt;sobered Lord Ivywood's representative; and he&lt;br /&gt;really had a red graze on the left cheek that looked&lt;br /&gt;more ugly than it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am so sorry," said Patrick Dalroy, cordially,&lt;br /&gt;"come and sit down in our camp.  My friend Pump&lt;br /&gt;will be back presently, and he's a capital doctor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His friend Pump may or may not have been a&lt;br /&gt;capital doctor, but the Captain himself was certainly&lt;br /&gt;a most inefficient one.  So small was his talent for&lt;br /&gt;diagnosing the nature of a disease at sight, that having&lt;br /&gt;given Mr. Hibbs a seat on a fallen tree by the tunnel,&lt;br /&gt;he proceeded to give him (in mere automatic hospitality)&lt;br /&gt;a glass of rum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Hibbs's eyes awoke again, when he had sipped&lt;br /&gt;it, but they awoke to a new world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wharever may be our invidual pinions," he said,&lt;br /&gt;and looked into space with an expression of humorous&lt;br /&gt;sagacity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then put his hand hazily in his pocket, as if to&lt;br /&gt;find some letter he had to deliver.  He found nothing&lt;br /&gt;but his old journalistic note book, which he often&lt;br /&gt;carried when there was a chance of interviewing anybody.&lt;br /&gt;The feel of it under his fingers changed the whole&lt;br /&gt;attitude of his mind.  He took it out and said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And wha' would you say of Vegetarianism, Colonel&lt;br /&gt;Pump?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think it palls," replied the recipient of this&lt;br /&gt;complex title, staring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sha' we say," asked Hibbs brightly, turning a leaf&lt;br /&gt;in his note book, "sha' we say long been strong&lt;br /&gt;vegetarian by conviction?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No; I have only once been convicted," answered&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy, with restraint, "and I hope to lead a better&lt;br /&gt;life when I come out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hopes lead better life," murmured Hibbs, writing&lt;br /&gt;eagerly, with the wrong end of his pencil.  "And&lt;br /&gt;wha' would you shay was best vegable food for really&lt;br /&gt;strong vegetarian by conviction?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thistles," said the Captain, wearily.  "But I don't&lt;br /&gt;know much about it, you know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywoo' strong veg'tarian by conviction,"&lt;br /&gt;said Mr. Hibbs, shaking his head with unction.  "Lord&lt;br /&gt;Ivywoo' says tact.  Talk to him naturally.  And so I&lt;br /&gt;do.  That's what I do.  Talk to him naturally."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humphrey Pump came through the clearer part of&lt;br /&gt;the wood, leading the donkey, who had just partaken&lt;br /&gt;of the diet recommended to a vegetarian by conviction;&lt;br /&gt;the dog sprang up and ran to them.  Pump was,&lt;br /&gt;perhaps, the most naturally polite man in the world, and&lt;br /&gt;said nothing.  But his eyes had accepted, with one&lt;br /&gt;snap of surprise, the other fact, also not unconnected&lt;br /&gt;with diet, which had escaped Dalroy's notice when&lt;br /&gt;he administered rum as a restorative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywoo' says," murmured the journalistic&lt;br /&gt;diplomatist.  "Lord Ivywoo' says, 'talk as if you were&lt;br /&gt;just wandering.'  That's it.  That's tact.  That's what&lt;br /&gt;I've got to do--talk as if I was just wandering.  Long&lt;br /&gt;way round to other end tunnel; sea and cliffs.  Don'&lt;br /&gt;sphose they can swim."  He seized his note book again&lt;br /&gt;and looked in vain for his pencil.  "Good subjec'&lt;br /&gt;correspondence.  Can policem'n swim?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Policemen?" said Dalroy, in a dead silence.  The&lt;br /&gt;dog looked up, and the innkeeper did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Get to Ivywoo' one thing," reasoned the diplomatist.&lt;br /&gt;"Get policemen beach other end other thing.  No&lt;br /&gt;good do one thing no' do other thing, 'no goo' do&lt;br /&gt;other thing no' do other thing.  Wish my presence&lt;br /&gt;appear quite accidental.  Haw!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll harness the donkey," said Pump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will he go through that door?" asked Dalroy,&lt;br /&gt;with a gesture toward the entrance of the rough boarding&lt;br /&gt;with which they had faced the tunnel, "or shall&lt;br /&gt;I smash it all at once?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He'll go through all right," answered Pump.  "I&lt;br /&gt;saw to that when I made it.  And I think I'll get&lt;br /&gt;him to the safe end of the tunnel before I load him&lt;br /&gt;up.  The best thing you can do is to pull up one of&lt;br /&gt;those saplings to bar the door with.  That'll delay&lt;br /&gt;them a minute or two; though I think we've got&lt;br /&gt;warning in pretty easy time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He led his donkey to the cart, and carefully&lt;br /&gt;harnessed the donkey; like all men cunning in the old&lt;br /&gt;healthy sense he knew that the last chance of leisure&lt;br /&gt;ought to be leisurely, in order that it may be lucid.&lt;br /&gt;Then he led the whole equipment through the&lt;br /&gt;temporary wooden door of the tunnel, the inquisitive&lt;br /&gt;Quoodle, of course, following at his heels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me if I take a tree," said Dalroy, politely,&lt;br /&gt;to his guest, like a man reaching across another man&lt;br /&gt;for a match.  And with that he rent up a young tree&lt;br /&gt;by its roots, as he had done in the Island of the Olives,&lt;br /&gt;and carried it on his shoulder, like the club of&lt;br /&gt;Hercules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up in Ivywood House Lord Ivywood had telephoned&lt;br /&gt;twice to Pebblewick.  It was a delay he seldom&lt;br /&gt;suffered; and, though he never expressed impatience in&lt;br /&gt;unnecessary words he expressed it in unnecessary&lt;br /&gt;walking.  He would not yet send for the police&lt;br /&gt;without news from his Ambassador, but he thought a&lt;br /&gt;preliminary conversation with some police authorities&lt;br /&gt;he knew well, might advance matters.  Seeing Leveson&lt;br /&gt;rather shrunk in a corner, he wheeled round in his walk&lt;br /&gt;and said abruptly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You must go and see what has happened to Hibbs.&lt;br /&gt;If you have any other duties here, I authorize you&lt;br /&gt;to neglect them.  Otherwise, I can only say--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this moment the telephone rang, and the&lt;br /&gt;impatient nobleman rushed for his delayed call with a&lt;br /&gt;rapidity he seldom showed.  There was simply nothing&lt;br /&gt;for Leveson to do except to do as he was told, or be&lt;br /&gt;sacked.  He walked swiftly toward the staircase, and&lt;br /&gt;only stopped once at the table where Hibbs had stood&lt;br /&gt;and gulped down two goblets of the same wine.  But&lt;br /&gt;let no man attribute to Mr. Leveson the loose and&lt;br /&gt;luxurious social motives of Mr. Hibbs.  Mr. Leveson did&lt;br /&gt;not drink for pleasure; in fact, he hardly knew what&lt;br /&gt;he was drinking.  His motive was something far more&lt;br /&gt;simple and sincere; a sentiment forcibly described in&lt;br /&gt;legal phraseology as going in bodily fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was partly nerved, but by no means reconciled&lt;br /&gt;to his adventure, when he crept carefully down the&lt;br /&gt;stairs and peered about the thicket for any signs of&lt;br /&gt;his diplomatic friend.  He could find neither sight nor&lt;br /&gt;sound to guide him, except a sort of distant singing,&lt;br /&gt;which greatly increased in volume of sound as he&lt;br /&gt;pursued it.  The first words he heard seemed to run&lt;br /&gt;something like--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "No more the milk of cows&lt;br /&gt;     Shall pollute my private house,&lt;br /&gt;     Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian;&lt;br /&gt;     I will stick to port and sherry,&lt;br /&gt;     For they are so very, very,&lt;br /&gt;     So very, very, very Vegetarian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leveson did not know the huge and horrible voice&lt;br /&gt;in which these words were shouted, but he had a most&lt;br /&gt;strange and even sickening suspicion that he did know&lt;br /&gt;the voice, however altered, the quavering and rather&lt;br /&gt;refined voice that joined in the chorus and sang,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Because they are so vegy,&lt;br /&gt;     So vegy, vegy, vegy Vegetarian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terror lit up his wits, and he made a wild guess at&lt;br /&gt;what had happened.  With a gasp of relief he realised&lt;br /&gt;that he had now good excuse for returning to the&lt;br /&gt;house with the warning.  He ran there like a hare,&lt;br /&gt;still hearing the great voice from the woods like the&lt;br /&gt;roaring of a lion in his ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He found Lord Ivywood in consultation with Dr.&lt;br /&gt;Gluck, and also with Mr. Bullrose the Agent, whose&lt;br /&gt;froglike eyes hardly seemed to have recovered yet from&lt;br /&gt;the fairy-tale of the flying sign-board in the English&lt;br /&gt;lane; but who, to do him justice, was more plucky and&lt;br /&gt;practical than most of Lord Ivywood's present&lt;br /&gt;advisers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm afraid Mr. Hibbs has inadvertently,"&lt;br /&gt;stammered Leveson.  "I'm afraid he has--I'm afraid&lt;br /&gt;the man is making his escape, my lord.  You had better&lt;br /&gt;send for the police."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood turned to the agent.  "You go and see&lt;br /&gt;what's happening," he said simply.  "I will come&lt;br /&gt;myself when I've rung them up.  And get some of the&lt;br /&gt;servants up with sticks and things.  Fortunately the&lt;br /&gt;ladies have gone to bed.  Hullo!  Is that the Police&lt;br /&gt;Station?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bullrose went down into the shrubbery and had,&lt;br /&gt;for many reasons, less difficulty in crossing it than the&lt;br /&gt;hilarious Hibbs.  The moon had increased to an almost&lt;br /&gt;unnatural brilliancy, so that the whole scene was like&lt;br /&gt;a rather silver daylight; and in this clear medium he&lt;br /&gt;beheld a very tall man with erect, red hair and a colossal&lt;br /&gt;cylinder of cheese carried under one arm, while he&lt;br /&gt;employed the other to wag a big forefinger at a dog&lt;br /&gt;with whom he was conversing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the Agent's duty and desire to hold the man,&lt;br /&gt;whom he recognised from the sign-board mystery, in&lt;br /&gt;play and conversation, and prevent his final escape.&lt;br /&gt;But there are some people who really cannot be courteous,&lt;br /&gt;even when they want to be, and Mr. Bullrose was&lt;br /&gt;one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lord Ivywood," he said abruptly, "wants to know&lt;br /&gt;what you want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do not, however, fall into the common error,&lt;br /&gt;Quoodle," Dalroy was saying to the dog, whose&lt;br /&gt;unfathomable eyes were fixed on his face, "of supposing&lt;br /&gt;that the phrase 'good dog' is used in its absolute sense.&lt;br /&gt;A dog is good or bad negatively to a limited scheme&lt;br /&gt;of duties created by human civilization--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing here?" asked Mr. Bullrose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A dog, my dear Quoodle," continued the Captain,&lt;br /&gt;"cannot be either so good or bad as a man.  Nay, I&lt;br /&gt;should go farther.  I would almost say a dog cannot be&lt;br /&gt;so stupid as a man.  He cannot be utterly wanting&lt;br /&gt;as a dog--as some men are as men."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Answer me, you there!" roared the Agent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is all the more pathetic," continued the Captain,&lt;br /&gt;to whose monologue Quoodle seemed to listen with&lt;br /&gt;magnetized attention.  "It is all the more pathetic&lt;br /&gt;because this mental insufficiency is sometimes found&lt;br /&gt;in the good; though there are, I should imagine, at&lt;br /&gt;least an equal number of opposite examples.  The&lt;br /&gt;person standing a few feet off us, for example, is both&lt;br /&gt;stupid and wicked.  But be very careful, Quoodle, to&lt;br /&gt;remember that any disadvantage under which we place&lt;br /&gt;him should be based on the _moral_ and not his _mental_&lt;br /&gt;defects.  Should I say to you at any time, 'Go for him,&lt;br /&gt;Quoodle,' or 'Hold him, Quoodle,' be certain in your&lt;br /&gt;own mind, please, that it is solely because he is _wicked_&lt;br /&gt;and not because he is _stupid_, that I am entitled to do&lt;br /&gt;so.  The fact that he is _stupid_ would not justify me&lt;br /&gt;in saying 'hold him, Quoodle,' with the realistic&lt;br /&gt;intonation I now employ--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Curse you, call him off!" cried Mr. Bullrose,&lt;br /&gt;retreating, for Quoodle was coming toward him with&lt;br /&gt;the bulldog part of his pedigree very prominently&lt;br /&gt;displayed, like a pennon.  "Should Mr. Bullrose find&lt;br /&gt;it expedient to climb a tree, or even a sign-post,"&lt;br /&gt;proceeded Dalroy, for indeed the Agent had already&lt;br /&gt;clasped the pole of "The Old Ship," which was stouter&lt;br /&gt;than the slender trees standing just around it, "you&lt;br /&gt;will keep an eye on him, Quoodle, and, I doubt not,&lt;br /&gt;constantly remind him that it is his _wickedness_, and&lt;br /&gt;not, as he might hastily be inclined to suppose, _stupidity_&lt;br /&gt;that has placed him on so conspicuous an elevation--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Some of you'll wish yourself dead for this," said&lt;br /&gt;the Agent; who was by this time clinging to the wooden&lt;br /&gt;sign like a monkey on a stick, while Quoodle watched&lt;br /&gt;him from below with an unsated interest.  "Some of&lt;br /&gt;you'll see something.  Here comes his lordship and&lt;br /&gt;the police, I reckon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning, my lord," said Dalroy, as Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;paler than ever in the strong moonshine, came through&lt;br /&gt;the thicket toward them.  It seemed to be his fate&lt;br /&gt;that his faultless and hueless face should always be&lt;br /&gt;contrasted with richer colours; and even now it was&lt;br /&gt;thrown up by the gorgeous diplomatic uniform of&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Gluck, who walked just behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am glad to see you, my lord," said Dalroy, in a&lt;br /&gt;stately manner, "it is always so awkward doing&lt;br /&gt;business with an Agent.  Especially for the Agent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Captain Dalroy," said Lord Ivywood, with a more&lt;br /&gt;serious dignity, "I am sorry we meet again like this,&lt;br /&gt;and such things are not of my seeking.  It is only&lt;br /&gt;right to tell you that the police will be here in a&lt;br /&gt;moment."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quite time, too!" said Dalroy, shaking his head.&lt;br /&gt;"I never saw anything so disgraceful in my life.  Of&lt;br /&gt;course, I am sorry it's a friend of yours; and I hope&lt;br /&gt;the police will keep Ivywood House out of the papers.&lt;br /&gt;But I won't be a party to one law for the rich and&lt;br /&gt;another for the poor, and it would be a great shame&lt;br /&gt;if a man in that state got off altogether merely&lt;br /&gt;because he had got the stuff at your house."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I do not understand you," said Ivywood.  "What&lt;br /&gt;are you talking of?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why of him," replied the Captain, with a genial&lt;br /&gt;gesture toward a fallen tree trunk that lay a yard or&lt;br /&gt;two from the tunnel wall, "the poor chap the police&lt;br /&gt;are coming for."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Ivywood looked at the forest log by the tunnel&lt;br /&gt;which he had not glanced at before, and in his pale&lt;br /&gt;eyes, perhaps for the first time, stood a simple&lt;br /&gt;astonishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above the log appeared two duplicate objects, which,&lt;br /&gt;after a prolonged stare, he identified as the soles of a&lt;br /&gt;pair of patent leather shoes, offered to his gaze, as if&lt;br /&gt;demanding his opinion in the matter of resoling.  They&lt;br /&gt;were all that was visible of Mr. Hibbs who had fallen&lt;br /&gt;backward off his woodland seat and seemed contented&lt;br /&gt;with his new situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His lordship put up the pince-nez that made him&lt;br /&gt;look ten years older, and said with a sharp, steely&lt;br /&gt;accent, "What is all this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only effect of his voice upon the faithful Hibbs&lt;br /&gt;was to cause him to feebly wave his legs in the air&lt;br /&gt;in recognition of a feudal superior.  He clearly considered&lt;br /&gt;it hopeless to attempt to get up, so Dalroy, striding&lt;br /&gt;across to him, lugged him up by his shirt collar and&lt;br /&gt;exhibited him, limp and wild-eyed to the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You won't want many policemen to take him to the&lt;br /&gt;station," said the Captain.  "I'm sorry, Lord Ivywood,&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid it's no use your asking me to overlook it&lt;br /&gt;again.  We can't afford it," and he shook his head&lt;br /&gt;implacably.  "We've always kept a respectable house,&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Pump and I.  'The Old Ship' has a reputation all&lt;br /&gt;over the country--in quite a lot of different parts, in&lt;br /&gt;fact.  People in the oddest places have found it a&lt;br /&gt;quiet, family house.  Nothing gadabout in 'The Old&lt;br /&gt;Ship.'  And if you think you can send all your&lt;br /&gt;staggering revellers--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Captain Dalroy," said Ivywood, simply, "you seem&lt;br /&gt;to be under a misapprehension, which I think it would&lt;br /&gt;be hardly honourable to leave undisturbed.  Whatever&lt;br /&gt;these extraordinary events may mean and whatever be&lt;br /&gt;fitting in the case of this gentleman, when I spoke of&lt;br /&gt;the police coming, I meant they were coming for you&lt;br /&gt;and your confederate."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For me!" cried the Captain, with a stupendous air&lt;br /&gt;of surprise.  "Why, I have never done anything&lt;br /&gt;naughty in my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have been selling alcohol contrary to Clause&lt;br /&gt;V. of the Act of--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I've got a sign," cried Dalroy, excitedly, "you&lt;br /&gt;told me yourself it was all right if I'd got a sign.  Oh,&lt;br /&gt;do look at our new sign!  The 'Sign of the Agile&lt;br /&gt;Agent.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Bullrose had remained silent, feeling his&lt;br /&gt;position none of the most dignified, and hoping his&lt;br /&gt;employer would go away.  But Lord Ivywood looked&lt;br /&gt;up at him, and thought he had wandered into a planet&lt;br /&gt;of monsters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he slowly recovered himself Patrick Dalroy said&lt;br /&gt;briskly, "All quite correct and conventional, you see.&lt;br /&gt;You can't run us in for not having a sign; we've&lt;br /&gt;rather an extra life-like one.  And you can't run us&lt;br /&gt;in as rogues and vagabonds either.  Visible means of&lt;br /&gt;subsistence," and he slapped the huge cheese under&lt;br /&gt;his arm with his great flat hand, so that it reverberated&lt;br /&gt;like a drum.  "Quite visible.  Perceptible," he added,&lt;br /&gt;holding it out suddenly almost under Lord Ivywood's&lt;br /&gt;nose.  "Perceptible to the naked eye through your&lt;br /&gt;lordship's eyeglasses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned abruptly, burst open the pantomime door&lt;br /&gt;behind him and bowled the big cheese down the tunnel&lt;br /&gt;with a noise like thunder, which ended in a cry of&lt;br /&gt;acceptation in the distant voice of Mr. Humphrey&lt;br /&gt;Pump.  It was the last of their belongings left at this&lt;br /&gt;end of the tunnel, and Dalroy turned again, a man&lt;br /&gt;totally transfigured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And now, Ivywood," he said, "what can I be&lt;br /&gt;charged with?  Well, I have a suggestion to make.&lt;br /&gt;I will surrender to the police quite quietly when they&lt;br /&gt;come, if you will do me one favour.  Let me choose&lt;br /&gt;my crime."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand you," answered the other coolly,&lt;br /&gt;"what crime?  What favour?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Dalroy unsheathed the straight sword that&lt;br /&gt;still hung on his now shabby uniform.  The slender&lt;br /&gt;blade sparkled splendidly in the moonlight as he&lt;br /&gt;pointed it straight at Dr. Gluck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take away his sword from the little pawnbroker,"&lt;br /&gt;he said.  "It's about the length of mine; or we'll change&lt;br /&gt;if you like.  Give me ten minutes on that strip of&lt;br /&gt;turf.  And then it may be, Ivywood, that I shall be&lt;br /&gt;removed from your public path in a way a little&lt;br /&gt;worthier of enemies who have once been friends, than&lt;br /&gt;if you tripped me up with Bow Street runners, of&lt;br /&gt;whose help every ancestor you have would have been&lt;br /&gt;ashamed.  Or, on the other hand, it may be--that&lt;br /&gt;when the police come there will be something to arrest&lt;br /&gt;me for."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a long silence, and the elf of irresponsibility&lt;br /&gt;peeped out again for an instant in Dalroy's&lt;br /&gt;mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Bullrose will see fair play for you, from a&lt;br /&gt;throne above the lists," he said.  "I have already put&lt;br /&gt;my honour in the hands of Mr. Hibbs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I must decline Captain Dalroy's invitation," said&lt;br /&gt;Ivywood at last, in a curious tone.  "Not so much&lt;br /&gt;because--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before he could proceed, Leveson came racing across&lt;br /&gt;the copse, hallooing, "The police are here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dalroy, who loved leaving everything to the last&lt;br /&gt;instant, tore up the sign, with Bullrose literally&lt;br /&gt;hanging to it, shook him off like a ripe fruit, and then&lt;br /&gt;plunged into the tunnel, the clamorous Quoodle at&lt;br /&gt;his heels.  Before even Ivywood (the promptest of&lt;br /&gt;his party) could reach the spot, he had clashed to the&lt;br /&gt;wood door and bolted it across with his wooden staple.&lt;br /&gt;He had not had time even to sheath his sword.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Break down this door," said Lord Ivywood, calmly.&lt;br /&gt;"I noticed they haven't finished loading their cart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under his directions, and vastly against their will,&lt;br /&gt;Bullrose and Leveson lifted the tree-trunk vacated by&lt;br /&gt;Hibbs, and swinging it thrice as a battering-ram,&lt;br /&gt;burst in the door.  Lord Ivywood instantly sprang&lt;br /&gt;into the entrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A voice called out to him quietly from the other end&lt;br /&gt;of the tunnel.  There was something touching and yet&lt;br /&gt;terrible about a voice so human coming out of that&lt;br /&gt;inhuman darkness.  If Philip Ivywood had been really&lt;br /&gt;a poet, and not rather its opposite, an aesthete, he would&lt;br /&gt;have known that all the past and people of Engla
