Heavenue

heavenue

Mr. and Mrs. Quiverful Are Made Happy. Mr. Slope is Encouraged by the Press

The Offshore Pirate

Kilmeny of the Orchard by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT CHAPTER V. A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT Shortly before sunset that evening Eric went for a walk. When he did not go to the shore he liked to indulge in long tramps through the Lindsay fields and woods, in the mellowness of “the sweet ‘o the year.” Most of the Lindsay houses were built along the main road, which ran parallel to the shore, or about the stores at “The Corner.” The farms ran back from them into solitudes of woods and pasture lands. Eric struck southwest from the Williamson homestead, in a direction he had not hitherto explored, and walked briskly along, enjoying the witchery of the season all about him in earth and air and sky. He felt it and loved it and yielded to it, as anyone of clean life and sane pulses must do. The spruce wood in which he presently found himself was smitten through with arrows of ruby light from the setting sun. He went through it, walking up a long, purple aisle where the wood-floor was brown and elastic under his feet, and came out beyond it on a scene which surprised him. No house was in sight, but he found himself looking into an orchard; an old orchard, evidently long neglected and forsaken. But an orchard dies hard; and this one, which must have been a very delightful spot once, was delightful still, none the less so for the air of gentle melancholy which seemed to pervade it, the melancholy which invests all places that have once been the scenes of joy and pleasure and young life, and are so no longer, places where hearts have throbbed, and pulses thrilled, and eyes brightened, and merry voices echoed. The ghosts of these things seem to linger in their old haunts through many empty years. The orchard was large and long, enclosed in a tumbledown old fence of longers bleached to a silvery gray in the suns of many lost summers. At regular intervals along the fence were tall, gnarled fir trees, and an evening wind, sweeter than that which blew over the beds of spice from Lebanon, was singing in their tops, an earth-old song with power to carry the soul back to the dawn of time. Eastward, a thick fir wood grew, beginning with tiny treelets just feathering from the grass, and grading up therefrom to the tall veterans of the mid-grove, unbrokenly and evenly, giving the effect of a solid, sloping green wall, so beautifully compact that it looked as if it had been clipped into its velvet surface by art. Most of the orchard was grown over lushly with grass; but at the end where Eric stood there was a square, treeless place which had evidently once served as a homestead garden. Old paths were still visible, bordered by stones and large pebbles. There were two clumps of lilac trees; one blossoming in royal purple, the other in white. Between them was a bed ablow with the starry spikes of June lilies. Their penetrating, haunting fragrance distilled on the dewy air in every soft puff of wind. Along the fence rosebushes grew, but it was as yet too early in the season for roses. Beyond was the orchard proper, three long rows of trees with green avenues between, each tree standing in a wonderful blow of pink and white. The charm of the place took sudden possession of Eric as nothing had ever done before. He was not given to romantic fancies; but the orchard laid hold of him subtly and drew him to itself, and he was never to be quite his own man again. He went into it over one of the broken panels of fence, and so, unknowing, went forward to meet all that life held for him. He walked the length of the orchard’s middle avenue between long, sinuous boughs picked out with delicate, rose-hearted bloom. When he reached its southern boundary he flung himself down in a grassy corner of the fence where another lilac bush grew, with ferns and wild blue violets at its roots. From where he now was he got a glimpse of a house about a quarter of a mile away, its gray gable peering out from a dark spruce wood. It seemed a dull, gloomy, remote place, and he did not know who lived there. He had a wide outlook to the west, over far hazy fields and misty blue intervales. The sun had just set, and the whole world of green meadows beyond swam in golden light. Across a long valley brimmed with shadow were uplands of sunset, and great sky lakes of saffron and rose where a soul might lose itself in colour. The air was very fragrant with the baptism of the dew, and the odours of a bed of wild mint upon which he had trampled. Robins were whistling, clear and sweet and sudden, in the woods all about him. “This is a veritable ‘haunt of ancient peace,’” quoted Eric, looking around with delighted eyes. “I could fall asleep here, dream dreams and see visions. What a sky! Could anything be diviner than that fine crystal eastern blue, and those frail white clouds that look like woven lace? What a dizzying, intoxicating fragrance lilacs have! I wonder if perfume could set a man drunk. Those apple trees now—why, what is that?” Eric started up and listened. Across the mellow stillness, mingled with the croon of the wind in the trees and the flute-like calls of the robins, came a strain of delicious music, so beautiful and fantastic that Eric held his breath in astonishment and delight. Was he dreaming? No, it was real music, the music of a violin played by some hand inspired with the very spirit of harmony. He had never heard anything like it; and, somehow, he felt quite sure that nothing exactly like it ever had been heard before; he believed that that wonderful music was coming straight from the soul of the unseen violinist, and translating itself into those most airy and delicate and exquisite sounds for the first time; the very soul of music, with all sense and earthliness refined away. It was an elusive, haunting melody, strangely suited to the time and place; it had in it the sigh of the wind in the woods, the eerie whispering of the grasses at dewfall, the white thoughts of the June lilies, the rejoicing of the apple blossoms; all the soul of all the old laughter and song and tears and gladness and sobs the orchard had ever known in the lost years; and besides all this, there was in it a pitiful, plaintive cry as of some imprisoned thing calling for freedom and utterance. At first Eric listened as a man spellbound, mutely and motionlessly, lost in wonderment. Then a very natural curiosity overcame him. Who in Lindsay could play a violin like that? And who was playing so here, in this deserted old orchard, of all places in the world? He rose and walked up the long white avenue, going as slowly and silently as possible, for he did not wish to interrupt the player. When he reached the open space of the garden he stopped short in new amazement and was again tempted into thinking he must certainly be dreaming. Under the big branching white lilac tree was an old, sagging, wooden bench; and on this bench a girl was sitting, playing on an old brown violin. Her eyes were on the faraway horizon and she did not see Eric. For a few moments he stood there and looked at her. The pictures she made photographed itself on his vision to the finest detail, never to be blotted from his book of remembrance. To his latest day Eric Marshall will be able to recall vividly that scene as he saw it then—the velvet darkness of the spruce woods, the overarching sky of soft brilliance, the swaying lilac blossoms, and amid it all the girl on the old bench with the violin under her chin. He had, in his twenty-four years of life, met hundreds of pretty women, scores of handsome women, a scant half dozen of really beautiful women. But he knew at once, beyond all possibility of question or doubt, that he had never seen or imagined anything so exquisite as this girl of the orchard. Her loveliness was so perfect that his breath almost went from him in his first delight of it. Her face was oval, marked in every cameo-like line and feature with that expression of absolute, flawless purity, found in the angels and Madonnas of old paintings, a purity that held in it no faintest strain of earthliness. Her head was bare, and her thick, jet-black hair was parted above her forehead and hung in two heavy lustrous braids over her shoulders. Her eyes were of such a blue as Eric had never seen in eyes before, the tint of the sea in the still, calm light that follows after a fine sunset; they were as luminous as the stars that came out over Lindsay Harbour in the afterglow, and were fringed about with very long, soot-black lashes, and arched over by most delicately pencilled dark eyebrows. Her skin was as fine and purely tinted as the heart of a white rose. The collarless dress of pale blue print she wore revealed her smooth, slender throat; her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows and the hand which guided the bow of her violin was perhaps the most beautiful thing about her, perfect in shape and texture, firm and white, with rosy-nailed taper fingers. One long, drooping plume of lilac blossom lightly touched her hair and cast a wavering shadow over the flower-like face beneath it. There was something very child-like about her, and yet at least eighteen sweet years must have gone to the making of her. She seemed to be playing half unconsciously, as if her thoughts were far away in some fair dreamland of the skies. But presently she looked away from “the bourne of sunset,” and her lovely eyes fell on Eric, standing motionless before her in the shadow of the apple tree. The sudden change that swept over her was startling. She sprang to her feet, the music breaking in mid-strain and the bow slipping from her hand to the grass. Every hint of colour fled from her face and she trembled like one of the wind-stirred June lilies. “I beg your pardon,” said Eric hastily. “I am sorry that I have alarmed you. But your music was so beautiful that I did not remember you were not aware of my presence here. Please forgive me.” He stopped in dismay, for he suddenly realized that the expression on the girl’s face was one of terror—not merely the startled alarm of a shy, childlike creature who had thought herself alone, but absolute terror. It was betrayed in her blanched and quivering lips and in the widely distended blue eyes that stared back into his with the expression of some trapped wild thing. It hurt him that any woman should look at him in such a fashion, at him who had always held womanhood in such reverence. “Don’t look so frightened,” he said gently, thinking only of calming her fear, and speaking as he would to a child. “I will not hurt you. You are safe, quite safe.” In his eagerness to reassure her he took an unconscious step forward. Instantly she turned, and, without a sound, fled across the orchard, through a gap in the northern fence and along what seemed to be a lane bordering the fir wood beyond and arched over with wild cherry trees misty white in the gathering gloom. Before Eric could recover his wits she had vanished from his sight among the firs. He stooped and picked up the violin bow, feeling slightly foolish and very much annoyed. “Well, this is a most mysterious thing,” he said, somewhat impatiently. “Am I bewitched? Who was she? WHAT was she? Can it be possible that she is a Lindsay girl? And why in the name of all that’s provoking should she be so frightened at the mere sight of me? I have never thought I was a particularly hideous person, but certainly this adventure has not increased my vanity to any perceptible extent. Perhaps I have wandered into an enchanted orchard, and been outwardly transformed into an ogre. Now that I have come to think of it, there is something quite uncanny about the place. Anything might happen here. It is no common orchard for the production of marketable apples, that is plain to be seen. No, it’s a most unwholesome locality; and the sooner I make my escape from it the better.” He glanced about it with a whimsical smile. The light was fading rapidly and the orchard was full of soft, creeping shadows and silences. It seemed to wink sleepy eyes of impish enjoyment at his perplexity. He laid the violin bow down on the old bench. “Well, there is no use in my following her, and I have no right to do so even if it were of use. But I certainly wish she hadn’t fled in such evident terror. Eyes like hers were never meant to express anything but tenderness and trust. Why—why—WHY was she so frightened? And who—who—WHO—can she be?” All the way home, over fields and pastures that were beginning to be moonlight silvered he pondered the mystery. “Let me see,” he reflected. “Mr. Williamson was describing the Lindsay girls for my benefit the other evening. If I remember rightly he said that there were four handsome ones in the district. What were their names? Florrie Woods, Melissa Foster—no, Melissa Palmer—Emma Scott, and Jennie May Ferguson. Can she be one of them? No, it is a flagrant waste of time and gray matter supposing it. That girl couldn’t be a Florrie or a Melissa or an Emma, while Jennie May is completely out of the question. Well, there is some bewitchment in the affair. Of that I’m convinced. So I’d better forget all about it.” But Eric found that it was impossible to forget all about it. The more he tried to forget, the more keenly and insistently he remembered. The girl’s exquisite face haunted him and the mystery of her tantalized him. True, he knew that, in all likelihood, he might easily solve the problem by asking the Williamsons about her. But somehow, to his own surprise, he found that he shrank from doing this. He felt that it was impossible to ask Robert Williamson and probably have the girl’s name overflowed in a stream of petty gossip concerning her and all her antecedents and collaterals to the third and fourth generation. If he had to ask any one it should be Mrs. Williamson; but he meant to find out the secret for himself if it were at all possible. He had planned to go to the harbour the next evening. One of the lobstermen had promised to take him out cod-fishing. But instead he wandered southwest over the fields again. He found the orchard easily—he had half expected NOT to find it. It was still the same fragrant, grassy, wind-haunted spot. But it had no occupant and the violin bow was gone from the old bench. “Perhaps she tiptoed back here for it by the light o’ the moon,” thought Eric, pleasing his fancy by the vision of a lithe, girlish figure stealing with a beating heart through mingled shadow and moonshine. “I wonder if she will possibly come this evening, or if I have frightened her away for ever. I’ll hide me behind this spruce copse and wait.” Eric waited until dark, but no music sounded through the orchard and no one came to it. The keenness of his disappointment surprised him, nay more, it vexed him. What nonsense to be so worked up because a little girl he had seen for five minutes failed to appear! Where was his common sense, his “gumption,” as old Robert Williamson would have said? Naturally a man liked to look at a pretty face. But was that any reason why he should feel as if life were flat, stale, and unprofitable simply because he could not look at it? He called himself a fool and went home in a petulant mood. Arriving there, he plunged fiercely into solving algebraical equations and working out geometry exercises, determined to put out of his head forthwith all vain imaginings of an enchanted orchard, white in the moonshine, with lilts of elfin music echoing down its long arcades. The next day was Sunday and Eric went to church twice. The Williamson pew was one of the side ones at the top of the church and its occupants practically faced the congregation. Eric looked at every girl and woman in the audience, but he saw nothing of the face which, setting will power and common sense flatly at defiance, haunted his memory like a star. Thomas Gordon was there, sitting alone in his long, empty pew near the top of the building; and Neil Gordon sang in the choir which occupied the front pew of the gallery. He had a powerful and melodious, though untrained voice, which dominated the singing and took the colour out of the weaker, more commonplace tones of the other singers. He was well-dressed in a suit of dark blue serge, with a white collar and tie. But Eric idly thought it did not become him so well as the working clothes in which he had first seen him. He was too obviously dressed up, and he looked coarser and more out of harmony with his surroundings. For two days Eric refused to let himself think of the orchard. Monday evening he went cod-fishing, and Tuesday evening he went up to play checkers with Alexander Tracy. Alexander won all the games so easily that he never had any respect for Eric Marshall again. “Played like a feller whose thoughts were wool gathering,” he complained to his wife. “He’ll never make a checker player—never in this world.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. L. M. Montgomery (2004). Kilmeny of the Orchard. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/5341/pg5341-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT

THE GULF BETWEEN

The Lion's Cave

The Cave Girl by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . DEATH'S DOORWAY DEATH'S DOORWAY Late in the afternoon the girl suggested that they start that night upon the journey toward her village. "The bad men will not be abroad after dark," she said. "With you at my side, I shall not fear Nagoola." "How far is it to your village?" asked Waldo. "It will take us three nights," she replied. "By day we must hide, for even you could not vanquish a great number of bad men should they attack you at once." "No," said Waldo; "I presume not." "It was very wonderful to watch you, though," she went on, "when you battled upon the cliff-side, beating them down as they came upon you. How brave you were! How terrible! You trembled from rage." "Yes," admitted Waldo, "I was quite angry. I always tremble like that when my ire is excited. Sometimes I get so bad that my knees knock together. If you ever see them do that you will realize how exceedingly angry I am." "Yes," murmured the girl. [Pg 39] Presently Waldo saw that she was laughing quietly to herself. A great fear rose in his breast. Could it be that she was less gullible than she had appeared? Did she, after all, penetrate the bombast with which he had sought to cloak his cowardice? He finally mustered sufficient courage to ask: "Why do you laugh?" "I think of the surprise that awaits old Flatfoot and Korth and the others when I lead you to them." "Why will they be surprised?" asked Waldo. "At the way you will crack their heads." Waldo shuddered. "Why should I crack their heads?" he asked. "Why should you crack their heads!" It was apparently incredible to the girl that he should not understand. "How little you know," she said. "You cannot swim, you do not know the language which men may understand, you would be lost in the woods were I to leave you, and now you say that you do not know that when you come to a strange tribe they will try to kill you, and only take you as one of them when you have proven your worth by killing at least one of their strongest men." "At least one!" said Waldo, half to himself. He was dazed by this information. He had expected to be welcomed with open arms into the best society that the girl's community afforded. He had thought of it in just this way, for he had not even yet learned that there might be a whole people living under entirely different conditions than those which existed in Boston, Massachusetts. [Pg 40] Her reference to his ignorance also came as a distinct shock to him. He had always considered himself a man of considerable learning. It had been his secret boast and his mother's open pride. And now to be pitied for his ignorance by one who probably thought the earth flat, if she ever thought about such matters at all—by one who could neither read nor write. And the worst of it all was that her indictment was correct—only she had not gone far enough. There was little of practical value that he did know. With the realization of his limitations Waldo Emerson took, unknown to himself, a great stride toward a broader wisdom than his narrow soul had ever conceived. That night, after the sun had set and the stars and moon come out, the two set forth from their retreat toward the northwest, where the girl said that the village of her people lay. They walked hand in hand through the dark wood, the girl directing their steps, the young man grasping his long cudgel in his right hand and searching into the shadows for the terrible creatures conjured by his cowardly brain, but mostly for the two awesome spots of fire which he had gathered from the girl's talk would mark the presence of Nagoola. [Pg 41] Strange noises assailed his ears, and once the girl crouched close to him as her quick ears caught the sound of the movement of a great body through the underbrush at their left. Waldo Emerson was almost paralyzed by terror; but at length the creature, whatever it may have been, turned off into the forest without molesting them. For several hours thereafter they suffered no alarm, but the constant tension of apprehension on the man's already over-wrought nerves had reduced him to a state of such abject nervous terror that he was no longer master of himself. So it was that when the girl suddenly halted him with an affrighted little gasp and, pointing straight ahead, whispered, "Nagoola," he went momentarily mad with fear. For a bare instant he paused in his tracks, and then breaking away from her, he raised his club above his head, and with an awful shriek dashed—straight toward the panther. In the minds of some there may be a doubt as to which of the two—the sleek, silent, black cat or the grinning, screaming Waldo—was the most awe-inspiring. [Pg 42] Be that as it may, it was quite evident that no doubt assailed the mind of the cat, for with a single answering scream, he turned and faded into the blackness of the black night. But Waldo did not see him go. Still shrieking, he raced on through the forest until he tripped over a creeper and fell exhausted to the earth. There he lay panting, twitching, and trembling until the girl found him, an hour after sunrise. At the sound of her voice he would have struggled to his feet and dashed on into the woods, for he felt that he could never face her again after the spectacle of cowardice with which he had treated her a few hours before. But even as he gained his feet her first words reassured him, and dissipated every vestige of his intention to elude her. "Did you catch him?" she cried. "No," panted Waldo Emerson quite truthfully. "He got away." They rested a little while, and then Waldo insisted that they resume their journey by day instead of by night. He had positively determined that he never should or could endure another such a night of mental torture. He would much rather take the chance of meeting with the bad men than suffer the constant feeling that unseen enemies were peering out of the darkness at him every moment. [Pg 43] In the day they would at least have the advantage of seeing their foes before they were struck. He did not give these reasons to the girl, however. Under the circumstances he felt that another explanation would be better adapted to her ears. "You see," he said, "if it hadn't been so dark Nagoola might not have escaped me. It is too bad—too bad." "Yes," agreed the girl, "it is too bad. We shall travel by day. It will be safe now. We have left the country of the bad men, and there are few men living between us and my people." That night they spent in a cave they found in the steep bank of a small river. It was damp and muddy and cold, but they were both very tired, and so they fell asleep and slept as soundly as though the best of mattresses lay beneath them. The girl probably slept better, since she had never been accustomed to anything much superior to this in all her life. The journey required five days, instead of three, and during all the time Waldo was learning more and more woodcraft from the girl. At first his attitude had been such that he could profit but little from her greater practical knowledge, for he had been inclined to look down upon her as an untutored savage. Now, however, he was a willing student, and when Waldo Emerson elected to study there was nothing that he could not master and retain in a remarkable manner. He had a well-trained mind—the principal trouble with it being that it had been crammed full of useless knowledge. His mother had always made the error of confusing knowledge with wisdom. [Pg 44] Waldo was not the only one to learn new things upon this journey. The girl learned something, too—something which had been threatening for days to rise above the threshold of her conscious mind, and now she realized that it had lain in her heart almost ever since the first moment that she had been with this strange young man. Waldo Emerson had been endowed by nature with a chivalrous heart, and his training had been such that he mechanically accorded to all women the gallant little courtesies and consideration which are of the fine things that go with breeding. Nor was he one whit less punctilious in his relations with this wild cave girl than he would have been with the daughter of the finest family of his own aristocracy. He had been kind and thoughtful and sympathetic always, and to the girl, who had never been accustomed to such treatment from men, nor had ever seen a man accord it to any woman, it seemed little short of miraculous that such gentle tender ness could belong to a nature so warlike and ferocious as that with which she had endowed Waldo Emerson. But she was quite satisfied that it should be so. [Pg 45] She would not have cared for him had he been gentle with her, yet cowardly. Had she dreamed of the real truth—had she had the slightest suspicion that Waldo Emerson was at heart the most arrant poltroon upon whom the sun had ever shone, she would have loathed and hated him, for in the primitive code of ethics which governed the savage community which was her world there was no place for the craven or the weakling—and Waldo Emerson was both. As the realization of her growing sentiment toward the man awakened, it imparted to her ways with him a sudden coyness and maidenly aloofness which had been entirely wanting before. Until then their companionship, in so far as the girl was concerned, had been rather that of one youth toward another; but now that she found herself thrilling at his slightest careless touch, she became aware of a paradoxical impulse to avoid him. For the first time in her life, too, she realized her nakedness, and was ashamed. Possibly this was due to the fact that Waldo appeared so solicitous in endeavoring to coerce his rags into the impossible feat of entirely covering his body. [Pg 46] As they neared their journey's end Waldo became more and more perturbed. During the last night horrible visions of Flatfoot and Korth haunted his dreams. He saw the great, hairy beasts rushing upon him in all the ferocity of their primeval savagery—tearing him limb from limb in their bestial rage. With a shriek he awoke. To the girl's startled inquiry he replied that he had been but dreaming. "Did you dream of Flatfoot and Korth?" she laughed. "Of the things that you will do to them tomorrow?" "Yes," replied Waldo; "I dreamed of Flatfoot and Korth." But the girl did not see how he trembled and hid his head in the hollow of his arm. The last day's march was the most agonizing experience of Waldo Emerson's life. He was positive that he was going to his death, but to him the horror of the thing lay more in the manner of his coming death than in the thought of death itself. As a matter of fact, he had again reached a point when he would have welcomed death. The future held for him nothing but a life of discomfort and misery and constant mental anguish, superinduced by the condition of awful fear under which he must drag out his existence in this strange and terrible land. [Pg 47] Waldo had not the slightest conception as to whether he was upon some mainland or an unknown island. That the tidal wave had come upon them somewhere in the South Pacific was all that he knew; but long since he had given up hope that succor would reach him in time to prevent him perishing miserably far from his home and his poor mother. He could not dwell long upon this dismal theme, because it always brought tears of self-pity to his eyes, and for some unaccountable reason Waldo shrunk from the thought of exhibiting this unmanly weakness before the girl. All day long he racked his brain for some valid excuse whereby he might persuade his companion to lead him elsewhere than to her village. A thousand times better would be some secluded little garden such as that which had harbored them for the ten days following their escape from the cave men. If they could but come upon such a place near the coast, where Waldo could keep a constant watch for passing vessels, he would have been as happy as he ever expected it would be possible for him in such a savage land. He wanted the girl with him for companionship; he was more afraid when he was alone. Of course, he realized that she was no fit companion for a man of his mental attainments; but then she was a human being, and her society much better than none at all. While hope had still lingered that he might live to escape and return to his beloved Boston, he had often wondered whether he would dare tell his mother of his unconventional acquaintance with this young woman. [Pg 48] Of course, it would be out of the question for him to go at all into details. He would not, for example, dare to attempt a description of her toilet to his prim parent. The fact that they had been alone together, day and night for weeks was another item which troubled Waldo considerably. He knew that the shock of such information might prostrate his mother, and for a long time he debated the wisdom of omitting any mention of the girl whatever. At length he decided that a little, white lie would be permissible, inasmuch as his mother's health and the girl's reputation were both at stake. So he had decided to mention that the girl's aunt had been with them in the capacity of chaperon; that fixed it nicely, and on this point Waldo's mind was more at ease. Late in the afternoon they wound down a narrow trail that led from the plateau into a narrow, beautiful valley. A tree-bordered river meandered through the center of the level plain that formed the valley's floor, while beyond rose precipitous cliffs, which trailed off in either direction as far as the eye could reach. [Pg 49] "There live my people," said the girl, pointing toward the distant barrier. Waldo groaned inwardly. "Let us rest here," he said, "until tomorrow, that we may come to your home rested and refreshed." "Oh, no," cried the girl; "we can reach the caves before dark. I can scarcely wait until I shall have seen how you shall slay Flatfoot, and maybe Korth also. Though I think that after one of them has felt your might the others will be glad to take you into the tribe at the price of your friendship." "Is there not some way," ventured the distracted Waldo, "that I may come into your village without fighting? I should dislike to kill one of your friends," said Waldo solemnly. The girl laughed. "Neither Flatfoot nor Korth are friends of mine," she replied; "I hate them both. They are terrible men. It would be better for all the tribe were they killed. They are so strong and cruel that we all hate them, since they use their strength to abuse those who are weaker. "They make us all work very hard for them. They take other men's mates, and if the other men object they kill them. There is scarcely a moon passes that does not see either Korth or Flatfoot kill some one. [Pg 50] "Nor is it always men they kill. Often when they are angry they kill women and little children just for the pleasure of killing; but when you come among us there will be no more of that, for you will kill them both if they be not good." Waldo was too horrified by this description of his soon-to-be antagonists to make any reply—his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth—all his vocal organs seemed paralyzed. But the girl did not notice. She went on joyously, ripping Waldo's nervous system out of him and tearing it into shreds. "You see," she continued, "Flatfoot and Korth are greater than the other men of my tribe. They can do as they will. They are frightful to look upon, and I have often thought that the hearts of others dried up when they saw either of them coming for them. "And they are so strong! I have seen Korth crush the skull of a full-grown man with a single blow from his open palm; while one of Flatfoot's amusements is the breaking of men's arms and legs with his bare hands." They had entered the valley now, and in silence they continued on toward the fringe of trees which grew beside the little river. [Pg 51] Nadara led the way toward a ford, which they quickly crossed. All the way across the valley Waldo had been searching for some avenue of escape. He dared not enter that awful village and face those terrible men, and he was almost equally averse to admitting to the girl that he was afraid. He would gladly have died to have escaped either alternative, but he preferred to choose the manner of his death. The thought of entering the village and meeting a horrible end at the hands of the brutes who awaited him there and of being compelled to demonstrate before the girl's eyes that he was neither a mighty fighter nor a hero was more than he could endure. Occupied with these harrowing speculations, Waldo and Nadara came to the farther side of the forest, whence they could see the towering cliffs rising steeply from the valley's bed, three hundred yards away. Along their face and at their feet Waldo descried a host of half-naked men, women, and children moving about in the consummation of their various duties. Involuntarily he halted. The girl came to his side. Together they looked out upon the scene, the like of which Waldo Emerson never before had seen. [Pg 52] It was as though he had been suddenly snatched back through countless ages to a long-dead past and dropped into the midst of the prehistoric life of his paleolithic progenitors. Upon the narrow ledges before their caves, women, with long, flowing hair, ground food in rude stone mortars. Naked children played about them, perilously close to the precipitous cliff edge. Hairy men squatted, gorillalike, before pieces of flat stone, upon which green hides were stretched, while they scraped, scraped, scraped with the sharp edge of smaller bits of stone. There was no laughter and no song. Occasionally Waldo saw one of the fierce creatures address another, and sometimes one would raise his thick lips in a nasty snarl that exposed his fighting fangs; but they were too far away for their words to reach the young man. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edgar Rice Burroughs (1993). The Cave Girl. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/69191/pg69191-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

DEATH'S DOORWAY

One Thousand Ways to Make Money, November 2017 by Page Fox is part of . You can jump to any chapter in this book . HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series here How to Get a Place by Page Fox You Can Get It—Positions Yawning for Young Men—Any Young Man May Become Rich—Men Who Began at the Bottom and Reached the Top—How A. T. Stewart Got His Start—John Jacob Astor’s Secret of Success—How Stephen Girard’s Drayman Made a Fortune—$100,000 for Being Polite—How One Man’s Error Made Another Man’s Fortune—Secret of the Bon Marché in Paris—How Edison Succeeded—A Sure Way to Rise—How a Young Man Got His Salary Increased $2,000—A Sharp Yankee Peddler. Young men are often discouraged because the desirable places all seem to be filled. But remember there is always room for the right man. Says a New York millionaire: “I hold that any young man, possessing a good constitution and a fair degree of intelligence, may become rich.” Says another business man: “I have made a personal canvass of a dozen of the largest business houses in five different commercial and professional lines to see to what extent there exist openings for young men.” In only two of the houses approached were the heads of the firms satisfied the positions of trust in those houses were filled by capable men. And in each of these two houses I was told that “of course, if the right sort of a young man came along who could tell us something about our business we did not already know, we should not let him slip through our fingers. Positions can always be created. In four of the houses, positions had been open for six months or more, and the sharpest kind of a lookout kept for possible occupants. These positions commanded salaries all the way from $2,000 to $5,000 a year. In the publishing business, I know of no less than six positions actually yawning for the men to come and fill them—not clerical positions, but positions of executive authority. Young men are desired in these places because of their progressive ideas and capacity to endure work.” Another prominent man who interviewed the heads of several large firms writes in a recent periodical as follows: “It is not with these firms a question of salary; it is a question of securing the highest skill with the most perfect reliability. This being secured, almost any salary to be named will be cheerfully paid. A characteristic of the business world to-day is that its institutions, empires in themselves, have grown to be too large for the handling of ordinary men. These institutions are multiplying in excess of the number of men whose business skill is broad and large enough to direct and command them. Hence, the really commanding business brain is at an immense premium in the market. A salary of $50,000 a year as president of a railroad or manufacturing company at first sight seems exorbitant; but the payment of such a salary usually means pure business. The right or the wrong man at the head of a great business interest means the making or the unmaking of fortunes for the stockholders. Only a single glance at the industrial world is needed to show that here is room for the advent of genius of the first order. This world, seething like a caldron, is boiling to the brim with questions of the most vexing and menacing kind.” Look at the men who reached the top of fortune’s ladder, and see under what discouraging circumstances they began. James Fisk, called the Prince of the Erie, rose to that position from a ragged newsboy. Stephen Girard began on nothing, and became the greatest millionaire of his time. Young men, would you scorn to row a boat for a living? Cornelius Vanderbilt plied a boat between Staten Island and New York. Would you tramp the country as a surveyor for a map? Jay Gould began in that way, and forty years later satisfied certain doubters of his financial standing by showing them certificates of stocks worth $80,000,000. Do you fear to have your hands calloused with ax or saw? John W. Mackay, who acquired a fortune of $20,000,000, started in life as a shipwright. Is it beneath your social station to handle butter and eggs? “Lucky” Baldwin, the multi-millionaire, kept a country store and made his first venture by taking his goods overland in a cart to Salt Lake City. Are your fingers too delicate for the broom handle? A. T. Stewart began his business career by sweeping out the store. Do you abhor vile odors? Peter Cooper made $6,000,000 in the glue business. Tens of thousands are looking for a place. Most of them have had places, but could not keep them. If you follow all the rules below, having obtained a place, you will never need to seek one again. The place will seek you. Employers are in search of the qualities herein to be considered, and they are willing to pay liberally for them. They are qualities that come high everywhere. If you possess them, you can in a short time command your own price. But do not scorn to take the humblest place. Merit, like murder, will out. Be sure you have the winning cards and wait. —Men will employ you if you mean business. When you find men working, work with them. Lend a hand. Every employer would rather employ a busy man than an idle man. When he sees you working, he will watch you. If he likes you, he will make you an offer. A glazier, being refused work at a place where a church was being erected, put down his kit of tools, picked up the broken pieces of glass which the workmen had thrown away, and, laboring just as if he had been hired to work, fashioned the finest church window in the world, and became rich and famous. The Secret of Work —Plow in nature’s furrow. In general, a man is fitted for the thing he likes. Do that which you can do best. What you want to do you are called to do, and what you are called to do you can do. Darwin says that the fittest survive because they have a slight advantage over those which do not survive. Your liking for an occupation is the advantage you have over those who do not like it. Follow the hint, whether it be to publish a paper or peg shoes. A leading merchant in New York found his calling through having loaned money to a friend. He had to take his friend’s store to secure his money, and thus learned his gift for merchandise. The man was A. T. Stewart. Nature’s Furrow —The best general is General Details. In business life, no matter is small enough to be despised. To master an infinite number of small things is to prepare yourself to master great things. When your employers see that you have everything at your fingers’ ends, they will intrust you with larger interests, and greater responsibility means greater pay. John Jacob Astor knew the minutest point about every part of his great business. That was the secret of his success.{17} General Details —Be many-sided, but transparent. Tell your employer where you have failed. Do not try to cover up a fault. Be absolutely honest. You may get along for a time on “shady” lines, but such success is only gained at the expense of ultimate loss. It is absolutely essential that your employer should have the utmost confidence in your integrity. Try by every means to gain that confidence. Court examination. Invite inspection. Remember that his profound belief in you—belief in you when out of business hours as well as in—is your surest stepping-stone to promotion. Character is power. Your success depends as much upon what you are as upon what you know or do. Stephen Girard once trusted his drayman to buy a shipload of tea worth $200,000. He trusted him because he knew his man, and he gave the young man the profits of the transaction, which amounted to $50,000. The Prismatic Brain —Do not cross your employer in any way. Never dispute with him. You may be sure that you are right, but do not say so. You need not be a Democrat or an Episcopalian because your employer is, but if you are wise you will avoid discussing with him questions of politics or religion. Courtesy pays. Ross Winans, of Philadelphia, secured a business that netted him $100,000 a year simply through his politeness to two Russian agents, to whom others in the same trade had accorded scant courtesy. The Bridled Tongue —Study, not stars, but stairs. Learn all about the position next above you. When you can point out new methods to your employer, advance new ideas, or suggest new channels of trade or lines of work, you are surely on the way to{18} promotion. Only, be sure that your new ideas are practical. There is no more direct road to the confidence of your employer than for him to see that you understand any part of his affairs better than he does himself. Employ your spare moments in studying the business. While the other clerks are joking, do you be learning. While the students at the boarding-house in Andover were chaffing each other during the wait for breakfast, Joseph Cook would turn to a big dictionary in one corner of the room and look out a word. He climbed many stairs above them. Studying the Stair Above **The Missing Factor—**Your employers are wrestling with a question. They are uncertain whether to invest or not. They are doubtful about the character or standing of some man with whom they are or may become heavily involved. It will be worth thousands to you if you can procure any scrap of information that will help to set them right. A young clerk who discovered an error in Bradstreet’s was soon admitted to partnership in his employer’s firm. —Make the most of your present position. Wear magnifying glasses. Exalt the importance of every item. Let not the smallest thing be done in a slipshod way. If you are answering letters for the firm, answer them briefly but completely. Remember that brevity is not brusqueness. If you are waiting on customers, treat the small customer just as courteously as the large one. You may be sure that your employer knows the market value of politeness. In the Bon Marché in Paris, the employers determined that something must be done more than was done in other stores so that every visitor would remember the place with pleasure and come again. The result{19} was the most exquisite politeness ever seen in a mercantile establishment, and it has developed the largest business of its kind in the world. The Magnifying Glass —The microscope shows a hundred things the naked eye cannot see. Endeavor to see what others fail to see—new possibilities of sales, new means of profit, new methods of doing things. It was by steadily looking at a thing until he saw what was not apparent to the superficial view that Thomas Edison became the greatest electrician of the world. The Microscopic Eye —Do something for your employer when you are out of the shop or store. You may be sure that he will appreciate it. It is a fallacy that he has no claim on you when off duty. Do not give him the idea that you have no interest in the business except to get your salary, and no time to spare him except what you are paid for. Do not watch the clock; do not filch a few moments at the beginning or end of the day’s work, and do not ask leave of absence except when absolutely necessary. Do overwork and unpaid-for work, and when you see a point in favor of your firm, fasten to it. Become essential to the place, and you will rise in the place. “I can’t spare you,” said the publisher of a New York magazine to his advertising agent when another publisher offered him an increase of $1,000. “Let’s see—you are getting $5,000 now; I’ll make it $7,000.” Scoring a Point When Off Duty —This is the very key to success. The proper study of mankind is man. The greatest college on earth is the business world. The man who can sell the most goods is the one who knows the weaknesses of human nature, and how to avail himself{20} of them. Your best diploma is a big bill of sale. Sell something to everybody—what the customer wants if you have it; if not, what he doesn’t want; but at any rate, sell him something. It is related of a Yankee book-peddler that he sold three copies of the same book to a family in one day—to the husband in the store, to the wife who was calling at a neighbor’s, and to the daughter at home. And not one of the family wanted the book. The Study of Men Following the above lines, and adding thereto good health and steady habits, you cannot fail to be promoted and to rise to the highest position of responsibility, if not even to actual partnership in the firm. These are the qualities that proprietors are yearning for—nay, actually groaning for, but which are hard to find in the average man. Employers are keeping the sharpest kind of a watch for the right man. It is stated on the best of authority that there are a thousand business firms in New York and vicinity each having one or more $5,000 positions awaiting the men who can fill them. If you have the right qualities or will acquire them, at least a thousand great firms want your services, and posts of responsibility with almost unlimited salary await your hand or brain. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Fox, Page(1900)FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK.One Thousand Ways to Make Money: Project Gutenberg. November 19, 2017 [EBook #56006] , from . https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56006 This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away, or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . https://www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The Secrets of Success: How Young Men Can Make Their Fortune

The Jungle: Chapter IX

Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord by Edwin Abbott Abbott is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . How Jesus now ruleth the world, sitting on the right hand of the Father in heaven. here How Jesus now ruleth the world, sitting on the right hand of the Father in heaven. Here must this history have an end. But I marvel how smoothly and easily the relation seemeth to have ascended from Jesus on earth to Jesus in heaven, as if by some ladder of easy ascent, and as though there were not seven heavens between. And perchance men would marvel the more, if I had been able to set down exactly the image of Jesus as he appeared to me at the first in my mother’s house at Sepphoris, or when he sat with us in the fishing-boat on the lake; so that the image of Jesus as he seemed then, might be compared with the image of Jesus as he seemeth now. But I know that I have not been able to do this. For my pen hath still outrun the story: and in adventuring to describe Jesus as he appeared to me on earth, I have often failed of my intent, and have described him, not as he appeared to me on earth, but as he was hereafter to appear to me from heaven. Oftentimes, musing on the difference between Jesus, as he was in deed and in truth, and Jesus, as we in Galilee supposed him to be, I have questioned myself and said, “Whence this waste of the life of the Lord Jesus? For if it be good for us to know him, and if the knowledge of him be eternal life, as we believe; then how much better had it been that we should have known him while he was alive, and not to have tarried for the knowledge till death had taken him from us?” Now, looking back, I seem to discern a reason for our ignorance, or, at the least, a certain wholesome fruit springing therefrom. For methinks, had we known the Lord Jesus as he was, and all his greatness and glory, and all that was to betide him, and his resurrection, and his ascension, even then when he sat with us at meat, and went in and out with us throughout the villages of Galilee; I say, had we known even then that Jesus was to be raised from the dead, and to sit at the right hand of God, methinks we could not have loved him so dearly, nor have spoken with him so familiarly, nor have questioned him so freely, revealing unto him all our infirmities, and trusting him as a friend, yea, loving him as a very son of man, even one of ourselves. But the Lord so ordained it that we should come to Jesus as to a great and good man, becoming infected with his spirit and imbued with the love of him as of a mortal being; and then, when he had caught our hearts as it were by guile, so that he had made himself now needful unto us even as the very breath of our lives, then began he to say unto us, “Whom say ye that I, the Son of man, am?” And lo, trying our hearts, we began to perceive that this same Son of man, who had so given life to our souls, could be none other than the very Son of the Living God. Hence it came to pass that, when he departed from us, and when we felt a void in our hearts, and when we questioned ourselves what it was that we had lost, and what it was that we most loved and trusted and revered, yea also, and what it was that we most worshipped as divine; then behold, searching our hearts, we found that there was nothing in heaven above nor in the earth beneath, nor in the waters under the earth, no, nor in the host above the heavens, that could compare with Jesus of Nazareth. And so it was that, when we worshipped him as the Son, it seemed not unto us as if we were honouring him by calling him God; but (if I may speak as a child) it seemed rather as though we were striving to honour God by saying that God was one with Jesus. For saying this, seemed all one with saying that God was Love. Therefore if any put this question unto me, “Why believest thou not that Romulus is God, and Liber, and Amphiaraus, and Elias, and Enoch (who all are said to have escaped death), and yet thou believest that Jesus of Nazareth is God?”: my answer is this, that I believe Jesus to be God, first, because God is Love, and Jesus is Love; secondly, because God is Might and Jesus is Might; and lastly, because, if Jesus was not indeed divine, then must he needs have been a poor deluded creature, unfit and unable to do any great work for the children of men. For certainly, albeit he was the most humble and lowly of men, yet did he ever speak of himself, not as one of many redeemers, but as the redeemer of men, the refuge of the wretched, the forgiver of sins, the source of life and truth. “But,” say some, “Jesus was of a surety not Might; for he came not as a conqueror, but as one conquered.” Now, methinks, concerning them that say such things, it was well said by Xanthias that “they are like unto the foolish giant Polyphemus, who could not think that Ulysses could be Ulysses indeed, for that he was not a giant like unto himself. In the same way certain persons of gross understanding” (even of such an understanding as I myself had, before that I had been enlightened by the spirit of Christ) “suppose that Jesus could not have been the Messiah, for that he did not come into the world as they themselves would have come, nor do the works which they themselves would have done, had they been Messiahs. For they would have come into the world, forsooth, riding on the clouds, or borne on chariots of fire, or working signs in heaven or portents upon earth. Now this is even such a Messiah as Polyphemus would have devised for himself. But it was surely a much more divine thing that the Word of God should come into the world as a poor man, and the child of the poor (as if to shew that no estate of man is too low to be sanctified by the Divine Word); and that he should subdue all men unto himself, not by force nor portents, but by love, patience, and suffering; submitting himself patiently to all the laws of the world, yea even to the law of death, and yet triumphing over them all through the force of righteousness.” Thus spake Xanthias, and I assent unto his words. But furthermore, if I believed Jesus to be the Son of God when mine eyes were opened to discern him after his resurrection, much more do I believe it now; because all the years as they pass by, yea, and all the seventy nations of the earth, are as so many angels of God, which do cry aloud with a clear voice and say, “Jesus of Nazareth is our King; Jesus of Nazareth, though he be in heaven, is ruling on earth.” For whithersoever I look throughout the Empire, I behold the love of Christ beginning already to rule over the tribes of the earth, though as yet it be in small beginnings. In Britain, where I now write, in Gaul, in Spain, in Italy, in Greece, in all the parts of Asia Minor, in Carthage and Egypt, yea even unto Babylon and the parts far beyond the River, the Lord Jesus now hath his worshippers. Too long were it now to recount what I beheld in Alexandria and in Rome concerning the power of Christ and how the churches in those cities increased and are still increasing. But thus much have I noted concerning the law of Christ, that it differeth from all other laws, in that it is fitted for all nations and climates and times. It is as useful for the poor as for the rich. It loveth order and concord, and hateth disorder and tumult. It loveth truth, righteousness, and happiness; it hateth deceits and unrighteousness and misery. It doth not say unto all nations, “Take unto yourselves the customs of the Greeks,” nor yet “Take unto yourselves the laws of the Romans,” neither doth it prescribe any pattern of government as the best: but what saith it? It saith, “Love God and thy neighbour; and I, even I, will give thee strength to love them.” For our law is none other than the Lord Jesus himself, dwelling with us again, and abiding in our hearts for ever, through faith. Therefore is the law of Jesus in the end to prevail over other laws. For other laws are laws of fear, and they rule by constraint and hinder growth; but the law of Jesus is a law of love, and ruleth through freedom, causing all good things to grow, and making the heart to leap up with joy. Other laws need addition of rewards and punishments; but the law of Jesus assigneth fit reward, and executeth needful punishment, of itself, without help of king or lawgiver. The laws of other lawgivers will pass away with the passing of those needs for which the laws were made: but the law of love will abide for ever, for the need thereof passeth not away. And when that law shall be established, then, and not till then, shall wars cease from the earth, and all nations shall be as one: for as Moses gave Israel a law to knit the ten tribes into one nation, even so hath the Lord Jesus given us a law to knit the seventy nations of the earth into one family of God. In this hope I rejoice, even in the midst of tribulations, for I trust that Jesus of Nazareth reigneth. Therefore shall my heart not fail, albeit the signs and mighty works of the Church seem now to be passing away, and devils be not now cast out as of old; nor are the sick so often healed; and the saints speak less oft with tongues. For if the signs of righteousness and mercy and truth abide in the Church, those other signs may perchance be suffered to pass away. But that which sometimes troubleth me more, is that, as I hear in some of the churches, the saints are overmuch given to the governing of the congregations, and the arranging of the worship of the saints, and the observing of feasts and fasts, more than to the waging of the war against unrighteousness. For though it be well to follow after peace, yet can I not forget that the Lord Jesus studied not to lead a quiet life, but spake unto us saying that he must needs send a sword on earth. And who knoweth not how he stood up with the sword of his mouth against the Pharisees in the Temple of the Lord? The like of which contests and protestations against evil we hear not so oft, methinks, as in old times: howbeit, perchance even herein the Holy Spirit guideth us. But be this as it may, I still trust in the Lord Jesus; yea, even though there be (as I hear there be) divisions in certain of the churches, yet trust I in him. For I perceive that the Lord’s ways are not as our ways; but the last are made first; and the weak become strong; and the foolish are exalted above the wise. Therefore, even as from the fall of Sion there seemeth to have come uprising to the Gentiles, even so perhaps out of the divisions of the churches may arise truth for all the world. But as concerning the hour of the coming of the Lord, I deny not that he tarrieth long, even past all expectation. But inasmuch as the Lord Jesus himself said that he knew not that hour, for this cause I judge that no man shall know it. Only this is revealed unto me, that when the Lord shall come, it shall not be after such manner as we expect and shape forth in our minds, but the manner thereof shall be unexpected and new: better, I doubt not, than ever we hope or imagine, yet none the less, strange; yea, and perchance, at the first, full of disappointment. For I perceive that all the dealings of the Lord with men are after this fashion. He ever prepareth some good thing for us, exceeding all that we had expected; notwithstanding, with the good, there cometh also some wholesome pain or temptation that we expect not. For thus the Lord dealt with Adam in Paradise, and thus with Israel in the Promised Land; and thus also dealt the Lord Jesus with his disciples on earth. Wherefore thus also, I doubt not, the Lord Jesus will deal still with his disciples now that he reigneth in heaven. But why speak I in conjectures concerning these unknown matters, or why yearn I thus impatiently for the hour of the Lord’s coming, seeing that the Lord vouchsafeth to me, even on earth, his perpetual presence in mine heart, and the signs of his presence compass me everywhere around, so that even to live is joy? For verily to thee, O Lord, and to thy Kingdom, all things in heaven and earth do bear witness. The faces of all children, whom thou didst call thy little ones, give back the brightness of thy countenance; the goodness of all good men testifieth unto thee, the supreme pattern of all good; yea even the bad and the weak proclaim their need of thee, O Lord our Redeemer, in whom alone is power to create goodness in the worst, and to make the weakest strong. To thy word the seed-time and harvests bear witness; the flowers also do sing of thy trustfulness and hope. If I look unto the earth, thou hast trodden and sanctified it; if to the heaven, thou hast gone up into it and dost possess it; if I think of the terrors of the depths beneath the earth, behold, thou knowest them, and hast passed through them, and overcome them, and hast broken the bars thereof; that they may no more keep captive them that shall follow in thy footsteps, passing through the darkness of the grave. Thus hast thou, O Eternal Word (by whom in ages past the worlds were created) now in these last times created the universe anew for them that love thee; so that all things do serve thee and proclaim thy Good Tidings, and the world is become unto thee as a vesture, and the elements are become thy servants: yea death itself thou hast subdued to be thy minister, and sin thou shalt subdue to be thy bond-slave. Who is like unto thee, O most mighty Lord, for verily thy truth is on every side. Whither shall I go from thy Spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I climb up into heaven, thou art there. If I go down unto the dead, thou art there also. If I take the wings of the morning and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there also shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me. Therefore when I sleep in the grave, I am in thy cradle; and when I shall arise up and awake, behold around me are thy everlasting arms. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edwin Abbott Abbott (2015). Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/48843/pg48843-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

How Jesus now ruleth the world, sitting on the right hand of the Father in heaven.

How Jesus appeared ofttimes to his disciples; and how, after many days, he ascended up to heaven.

Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord by Edwin Abbott Abbott is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . How Jesus would work no sign in heaven; and concerning his temptation and wherefore he denied to work signs in heaven. here How Jesus would work no sign in heaven; and concerning his temptation and wherefore he denied to work signs in heaven. Gorgias the son of Philip exceeded the rest of us in his rejoicing at the return of Jesus, and in the largeness of his expectation, saying that it could not be that our Master, when he adventured to work a sign, would suffer himself to be surpassed by any, albeit the most cunning magicians. “Now,” said he, “I have heard an Alexandrine say that there are certain magicians which, in the middle of the market-place, in return for a few obols, will drive out demons and diseases, and call up the souls of heroes, and costly banquets, tables, dishes, and dainties, all as though ready for a feast; all which at the magician’s wand shall vanish away. If therefore a common magician can do such things for hire, how much more can Jesus do greater things than these for the Redemption of Israel!” Judas also spake after the same manner, and he said that perchance it was well done of Jesus not to work a sign in heaven at first; for had he worked the sign too early, it would have been counted cheap, and would have been despised. “Much wiser,” continued he, “to hold the sign back till the people crave for it, and till the Pharisees (supposing forsooth that he cannot do it) venture to promise obedience to Jesus on the condition that he work a sign in heaven. For thus shall they be taken in their own snare.” Only John was doubtful, saying to Judas, “Hast thou then forgotten how once in our presence our Master said he should work no sign in heaven?” But Judas replied that our Master had more than once changed his course, suiting it to the needs of the time; “And,” said he, “when he shall once perceive that the Redemption of Sion dependeth upon the working of a sign in heaven, then, trust me, the sign will not long be wanting. And so strongly am I assured thereof, that it would even seem to me to be a friendly deed to tell the Pharisees how Jesus hath said that he will never work the sign, and in this way to move them to ask Jesus to work the sign; to the intent that they may dig a pit for Jesus and fall into it themselves.” Now this he spake jesting; but (as I afterwards learned) Judas had indeed moved the Pharisees even, as he said, to ask Jesus to work a sign in heaven. And Judas it was that had sent to Eliezer that message whereof I have before made mention. But these things Judas did, not because he desired (at that time) to harm Jesus, but wishing to help him, and supposing that he should help him by forcing him to do that which, of himself, Jesus would not do. Howbeit of all these things we, at this present, knew nothing; and we took the words of Judas as if spoken in jest. But John shook his head and made no answer. It was in the winter, in the month called Chisleu, that we returned to Capernaum. But it came to pass, on the first Sabbath day after that we had returned, we went into the synagogue after our custom, and Jesus taught the people; and the hand of the Lord was present among them, and the people were very attentive to hear him. But when he had ended his words there rose up Abuyah the son of Elishah; and he spake after the manner of the Galileans, saying that it was not right that Israel should be any more divided against itself, but that all should confess that Jesus was the Anointed or Christ, if indeed he could shew that he was the Christ. “But the proof,” said he, “is, as we all know, the working of a sign in heaven. For signs on earth and in the deep, false prophets can work; but not in heaven. Now, therefore, this is the sum of the matter: thou wouldst have us, the Scribes and teachers of Israel, to believe in thee and to follow thee. Our answer is, Work a sign in heaven such as Elias worked, and straightway we follow thee.” While Abuyah was speaking his last words, a hesitation and a gasping overcame him, so that he was almost speechless. For he was abashed by the aspect of Jesus and by the stillness of the multitude. And, to say the truth, when Abuyah spake those words, “such as Elias worked,” we held our breath; expecting when the fire of heaven should come down, as in the days of Elias, and should consume Abuyah, and Eliezer, and all the enemies of Jesus; or else we thought that the earth should have opened and swallowed them up, as the earth swallowed up Korah and his fellows. But when Eliezer had ended all his words, and no gulf yawned nor fire came down from heaven, then indeed our hearts sank within us. But Abuyah and Eliezer began to be of good cheer; for they perceived that they had been well advised, and that Jesus would work no sign in heaven. When Jesus made answer to Abuyah, the people listened to him and were silent; but their hearts no longer inclined unto him as before. For indeed his words were not easy to understand. But he bade the Pharisees note the signs of the times, even as they noted the signs of the weather, and therein, he said, they should find proof enough. Moreover he spake those same strange words which he had spoken before to us privately, to wit, that they should have no sign but the sign of the prophet Jonah. Having said these words he departed from the synagogue; and at sunset, finding that the hearts of all men were turned from him, he gave command once again to launch the boat and to pass over unto the other side. Never before were the minds of the disciples so troubled as now: for we had all been assured, in the very depth of our hearts, that Jesus had even for this cause returned to Capernaum, because he purposed now at last to work a sign in heaven. Neither could we in any way understand why he should thus suffer the slanderers to triumph, delaying so long the Redemption of Sion. Judas especially inflamed our grief, saying that all was now lost, and that one sign in heaven would have been better worth than a thousand discourses about the Kingdom of Heaven. But suddenly we were silent; for we heard the voice of Jesus speaking; and he told us that he had formerly been tempted in a like fashion, even as the Pharisee had tempted him; for he had been led by the Spirit into a wilderness, and there in some vision the Evil Spirit had placed him upon the battlements of the Holy Temple, bidding him cast himself down as a sign unto the multitudes of them which were walking in the courts of the Temple; and the Evil One had said unto him, “If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give His angels charge concerning thee; and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.” But Jesus had made answer, saying, “It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.” Now therefore we all understood (after a dark fashion, and, as it were, obliquely) that Jesus esteemed the temptation to perform a sign in heaven to be a temptation from Satan. But why he so esteemed it, was hid from the most of us, and we feared to ask him thereof. When Jesus lay down on the sleeping-cushion, I questioned Nathanael why Jesus would work no sign in heaven. “For,” said I, “signs on earth and in the bodies of men he daily worketh; as but now, when he raised up the daughter of Jairus (all men supposing her to be dead): and again, at another time, albeit he neither said nor did aught, a woman was healed, though she did but touch him, and that too in a throng: so powerful was the mere garment of our Master to work healing. And when Jesus perceived the woman (discerning the pressure of her hand, albeit in the midst of the throng), then, as thou rememberest, he was neither wroth nor chid the woman for thus, as it were, stealing a miracle; but bade her go in peace, and be healed of her disease. Wherefore then worketh he no sign in heaven? Did not Moses and Elias work signs in heaven? Yet our Master is greater than they.” To these words Nathanael made no answer for a while; but at last he said, “Concerning Moses and Elias, and concerning what they did or did not, I am not able to speak. But as touching Jesus of Nazareth, thus much I know, that he lightly esteemeth all signs, both in heaven and in earth, except they reveal the mercifulness of God. For he teacheth that heaven and earth shall pass away, but his words shall remain for ever. And assuredly he seemeth to me to be greater than Moses and Elias, yea, though he should work no sign at all. For he moveth upon the face of the earth like unto the Son of God, and looketh upon all things that are, as being the servants of his Father. But seeing that they are the servants of his Father, he loveth them; yea, he cherisheth even the flowers of the fields; the sky also, and the winds, and the waters seem to him as the ministers of his Father; and the more he loveth the Father, the more he loveth his Father’s servants; neither will he check them nor chide them save according to his Father’s will, but submitteth himself unto them even more willingly than others submit themselves. For this cause he endureth to be cold, and an-hungered, and athirst, and homeless; neither doth he chide the frost, nor stamp on the ground to make the wheat spring up for him; nor strike waters from the rock; nor bid the stones come together at his word for to build him an house.” “But is not this patience,” asked I, “the condition of a slave?” “Yes, truly is it,” replied Nathanael, “but what saith our Master? He that is to be greatest among men must be as he that is least; he that is to rule must be as he that ministereth; he that is to be king over all must be as the slave of all. Only it is needful that we serve not unwillingly, but willingly. But whoso serveth the Lord in all things willingly, he is no slave, but a son. “For this cause, in part methinks, Jesus calleth himself the Son of man; as if to shew that he is willingly subject to all the fleshly weaknesses wherewith the All-Wise hath encompassed the souls of men to the end that they may depend on Him. For he teacheth that he, being the weakness of man, shall be made strength and exalted to the very throne of God, and we with him; so that we shall reign with God, and the Kingdom of God shall also be a Kingdom of man, according as it is said, ‘What is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou visitest him? Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands: thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet.’ ” “Yea, but,” said I, “the Psalmist speaketh only of the things of the earth, to wit, the ‘sheep and oxen and the beasts of the field, the fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.’ ” But to this Nathanael made answer, “In the Kingdom of God the Son of man shall be Lord over all things in heaven and earth, not on earth merely; yea, over death itself, and over the Evil Nature in man. For this cause, even as an earnest of that which is to come, our Master checketh and chideth diseases and devils in them which be possessed. For our Master hateth the devils and diseases even as he hateth the sins of men, esteeming them as the work of Satan, and not as the work of his Father. But the course and appointed order of the world he esteemeth as the vesture of God, whereof he would not disturb one single fold.” Now herein Nathanael spake truly. For once only (as I have heard) did Jesus so much as appear to adventure to alter the course of the world. It was on a winter evening, and the disciples were on the lake; but I was not with them. A great storm had suddenly come down on them (as storms are wont to come down from the mountains round about the lake) and the boat was now well-nigh filled with the waves and like to sink. Then the disciples lifted up their voices for fear, and ran to Jesus as he slept upon the cushion, and besought him, saying, “Master, carest thou not that we perish?” Then he arose in grief for them, as it seemed, that they should, after so cowardly a fashion, tremble before the winds; and he opened his mouth to rebuke them. “And all this while,” said Matthew (for he was present), “the winds yet raged, and the waves beat in upon the deck, and in another instant, methought, we had been all dead men. But Jesus, noting this, turned himself from us toward the sea, and then (as if it were revealed to him that he, being the safety of the world, could not be wrecked by any turbulence of winds or waves, and therefore that the storm was to cease), behold, he stretched out his hands to the tempest, praying; and straightway the storm seemed to abate a little; and then, perceiving the will of the Father, he stood up like some great king or emperor, and rebuked the storm, bidding it be still; and immediately there was a great calm.” Now on this only occasion did our Master appear to change the course of the world; and methinks, even here, he did it only in appearance. For he spake as he was moved by the Holy Spirit, it being revealed to him that the storm must needs cease lest the fortunes of the world should be shipwrecked, if the Son of man should perish. But if Xanthias findeth fault with this story, saying that on this only occasion our Master spake after the manner of a Mænad, and not worthily of himself, to this I reply that, if Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God (as I doubt not), then it was fit that he should feel faith, yea, a singular faith in God his Father. And if Caius Cæsar, the first Emperor, could be assured that he was not to be drowned, saying to the boatmen that they must be of good cheer because they carried Cæsar and his Fortune; how much more might the true Emperor of men be assured that the Fortune of mankind should not be shipwrecked, yea, and rather than this should come to pass, that the storm must cease? For this cause I incline not to the opinion of Xanthias; who saith that Jesus rebuked not the storm, but the disciples, bidding them not be fearful and of little faith. And, though I was not myself present, yet was the matter reported to me afterwards by one that had heard the relation thereof from Matthew the son of Levi, as I said above. While I spake with Nathanael, there came into my mind certain words of my Greek friend, whom I had met at Capernaum (I mean the Alexandrine merchant), how he had praised Jesus in that he breathed a spirit of soberness and peace, so that, wheresover he might be, he seemed happy and at home; and I told this to Nathanael. But he said, “Thy friend said well; for to Jesus the world is as a great instrument of music giving forth sounds which we hear not, but he both heareth and enjoyeth. And well I remember how once, in the presence of Jesus, there arose a dispute between a musician and another, concerning the sense of hearing and the sense of sight; and the other said, jesting at the musician, ‘To believe thee, the sun should have a voice if it is to be perfect.’ ‘Nay,’ said the musician, ‘but the sun hath indeed a voice to those which have ears to hearken; for when it riseth in the east, it is not a large round shining shekel, but it is a minister of God and crieth with ten thousand times ten thousand voices, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.’ And thereat Jesus smiled and said that it was even so, and that in the time to come there would dwell this power of sound not in the lights of heaven alone, but also in the earth, and all that therein is; insomuch that the vine-twigs and grape-clusters should have voices of their own and commune with the children of men.” 9 By this time we had reached the coast, and we went forth from the vessel, and took our way to a little village lying in the road which leadeth unto Cæsarea Philippi. And as Nathanael had been sent on before the rest to prepare lodging for us, I could find no more occasion that day to converse with him. But my mind was still beating on the dark saying of Jesus touching the temptation of Satan, and I still assayed to understand why Jesus would not work a sign in heaven: for the words of Nathanael had not sufficed to make the matter clear unto me. Only concerning the sign in heaven, thus much was revealed unto me, that I myself was not drawn unto Jesus by his signs and wonders, but by reason of my love for him and trust in him; and the same was true also of the other disciples. Moreover Jesus desired that men should be drawn unto him in this way, by love and trust, and by feeling that he was needful to them, and not by being astonished at signs and wonders. Further I questioned myself and said, “If Jesus had caused the sun to stop still, would Abuyah the son of Elishah, and Eliezer the son of Arak, and the chief ruler of the synagogue straightway have loved Jesus and trusted in him, as Jesus desireth his disciples to love and trust in him?” Now I knew that they might have obeyed him and followed him, but they could not have loved him. For Jesus was light: but they loved darkness. Wherefore Jesus could not redeem them nor deliver them, even though he had worked a sign in heaven. For he could not deliver them which loved him not; no, not though he had worked ten thousand signs in heaven. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edwin Abbott Abbott (2015). Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/48843/pg48843-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

How Jesus would work no sign in heaven; and concerning his temptation

Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord by Edwin Abbott Abbott is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Of signs in heaven; and concerning the healing of the Syrophœnician maiden, how Jesus seemed to gain thereby some new knowledge. here Of signs in heaven; and concerning the healing of the Syrophœnician maiden, how Jesus seemed to gain thereby some new knowledge. No evil followed on the words which Jesus had spoken concerning divorce; and we remained many days in peace, even till the day of Atonement, which falleth toward the beginning of the autumn in the month called Tisri. But we had friends in Tiberias, who were to send us word by day, or signify to us by lights during the night, if perchance any plot were intended against Jesus. Now so it was that some of the Galileans did not consent to James the son of Judas, and to Barabbas in forsaking Jesus, neither did they allow the conduct of the Pharisees; but having gathered themselves together they agreed that it was not fit that Israel should so long halt between two opinions; but as it had been in the days of Elias the prophet, so should it be now. “For,” said the chief man among them, “Elias gathered the people together and the people promised to be on his side, if he brought down fire from heaven; and he did so. Now perchance this Jesus is even Elias; for many so report of him, and even the Scribes say that Elias must come, and some say that Elias hath come oftentimes before now. But whether he be Elias or no, doubtless, if he be a true prophet, he can work the sign of Elias. For a false prophet can work signs on the earth and in the air, and in the deep; but a sign in heaven or from heaven he cannot work. Therefore meet it is that the Pharisees, instead of setting snares for Jesus, should promise to obey him if he will work a sign in heaven in their presence. My counsel is therefore that we ask Jesus to work a sign in heaven; and if he consent, then that we obey him, even though all the Pharisees speak against him, yea, and though he bid us hold out our throats to be cut by the Romans.” Thus spake the Galileans at their council, not many days after the discourse of Jesus concerning divorce. And the counsel of the Galileans was reported unto the Scribes. But when Abuyah the son of Elishah heard it, he said that this was according to the Scripture and the Traditions, and that it should be so. But Eliezer the son of Arak said that it should not be so; for that it was in no wise certain that a magician could not work a sign in heaven, or at the least, a sign that should appear to be in heaven. But if he could, said Abuyah, then, though the sign should not really be in heaven, yet if it appeared to be therein, all the foolish rabble, even the people of the land, would be drawn after Jesus, and the Pharisees also would be obliged to submit to him. “For,” added he, “I have heard of magicians which can make statues walk, and can knead loaves of stones; and of others that can become serpents, and transform themselves into goats, and can open locked gates, and can melt iron in a moment of time; but if they can do things so wonderful, think ye they cannot likewise perform signs which shall appear to be signs in heaven?” Others also protested to the same effect, and one said that he had been present when a certain magician had been smitten right through his body with the sword, but behold, the sword had passed through him as through smoke, and he had taken no hurt; and another said that he had seen an enchanter at a banquet create all manner of images, and cause dishes to be borne of themselves to wait upon the guests, no bearers being seen. At the last Abuyah himself confessed that he also had once seen a certain magician roll himself on the fire, and yet not burned; and the same man also to fly in the air. “Wherefore,” said he, “true it is, as Eliezer saith, that one flying high enough in the air, might seem to fly down from heaven, and so to perform some sign in heaven; and thus might he lead away the common people, which know not the Law.” All this I heard from a certain Scribe, a friend of Jonathan the son of Ezra; his name was Eleazar the son of Azariah, and he was present at the meeting of the Scribes. The same Eleazar also told me that whilst the Scribes were yet debating what they should do, a message was brought, as from one that had spoken with the chosen disciples of Jesus, saying that Jesus would certainly not work a sign in heaven; for that he had refused to do this, though he had been besought by his disciples. When they heard this, they rejoiced greatly; and Eliezer the son of Arak rose up and straightway gave his judgment that they should now change their policy. “For,” said he, “the Lord having revealed this new thing unto us, meet it is that we change our path accordingly, neither harden our faces against the will of God. Wherefore my judgment now is, that we ask this Jesus to work a sign in heaven before the face of the whole congregation in the synagogue. For when it shall be perceived that he cannot work a sign in heaven, all men will go from him; for they will know that he is a false prophet.” And thereto the rest agreed, and it was so resolved. But I knew not thereof till many days after. It was the intent of the Scribes to have asked Jesus to work a sign in heaven on the next Sabbath; but in the meantime, lights having been held up by night in Tiberias (on I know not what report or rumour of some danger intended to Jesus by Herod, or some marching forth of the Thracian guard), Jesus gave command to pass over again unto the other side of the lake. We accompanied him, albeit sorely against our will; for there seemed to be no end unto these wanderings or flights; and each new flight was like to turn the hearts of the people more and more from Jesus. Moreover, the manner of Jesus at this time disquieted us, and made some of us to doubt. Not that he seemed to fear; for fear had no part in him, neither did he seem to know what fear meant. But he appeared again (as in former days) like unto one waiting for a message and marvelling somewhat that the message came not. During these days, and these wanderings to and fro, the words of the prophet Jonah were often in his mouth, and he seemed as if he discerned a certain likeness between that prophet and himself; but what it was we understood not. For sometimes he spake of Nineveh, and how Jonah thought only of his own people, and had no compassion upon that great city of the Gentiles, yea, and fought against the voice of the Lord, who bade him go prophesy unto them; and how he wandered hither and thither, if perchance he could flee from the voice of the Lord. But at other times he spake how Jonah cried unto the Lord even from the belly of hell, and how the Lord inclined His ear unto him, and heard him, and raised him up to prophesy unto the Gentiles; and he quoted oftentimes the words of the prayer of the prophet, “I went down to the bottoms of the mountains; the earth with her bars was about me for ever; yet hast thou brought up my life from corruption, O Lord my God.” Likewise he made mention of some sign of Jonah, which he said should be manifested to this generation; but whether he meant that he should be sent far away unto the Gentiles, or that he should be cast into the depths, and delivered again, as Jonah was, this we understood not, and the saying was hidden from us. Now it came to pass, when we had journeyed now many days on the other side of the lake, we came nigh to the mountain of Hermon. Snows cover the top of this mountain both summer and winter; and when the sun in his strength shineth on the snows thereof, it is as though the glory of the Lord had come down from heaven. Towards this mountain Jesus had set his face as though he had an errand thither from the Lord; and as we journeyed towards it, he gazed often thereon and rejoiced greatly. But it came to pass, as we now drew nigh unto the mountain, we journeyed through a certain village of the country; and because we were in haste and Jesus desired that none should know him, we were to have passed quickly through the village before dawn. For the fame of Jesus, how he could cast out unclean spirits, was spread abroad even in that country. But as we passed through the village, we heard sounds as of one calling after us: and some thought they heard shrieks. Howbeit we turned not back, but journeyed forward the more quickly. Now a certain woman in this village (a worshipper of idols, after the manner of the people of that land) had a daughter possessed with an unclean spirit, which, whensoever it took her, drove her to all manner of wickedness, even to the attempting of her mother’s life. So the woman had resolved in her own mind that when Jesus passed by (for he must needs come through that village), she would beseech Jesus to heal her daughter, and she had told her daughter of her purpose, and likewise all her friends and acquaintance; and she had been advised of the approach of Jesus and was watching for us. Therefore seeing us pass quickly through her village, she adventured to bring out her daughter unto Jesus: but her daughter would not come. For even then, at the hearing of the name of Jesus, the devil took her, and she shrieked aloud and strove against her mother, and would have slain her: but her mother ran forth from the house and followed Jesus, calling and crying aloud and piteously lamenting. Now to us it seemed a strange thing and an unseemly, that a prophet of Israel should thus be beset and importuned by an heathen woman. So we expected that Jesus should have at once sent the woman away. But Jesus uttered never a word, nor so much as turned his face towards her, but journeyed steadfastly forward. And even as one running a race towards a goal settleth his soul upon the prize that is before him, even so seemed Jesus to settle his soul upon the snows of the mountain of Hermon: for they shone in the light of the rising sun, like unto a dove sent from God, whose breast-feathers are as silver, and whose wings like unto fine gold. But the woman ceased not from her following and lamenting, and poured forth before Jesus all the story of her troubles. At last we adventured to accost Jesus, and we besought him to send her away. But he answered us, still not turning his face, “I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Yet as he spake, he slackened his going, and spake, as it were, like unto one doubting somewhat, and willing to have his words amended. Now came the woman in haste up to him, and threw herself before his feet and said, “Lord, help me.” Then Jesus stayed. Yet did he still keep his eyes fixed on that which he saw afar off; and for a brief space he was silent; but then he said, as though he were asking a question of his own soul, “It is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it unto the dogs?” But the woman answered, “Truth, O Master, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.” When Jesus heard these words he turned his face straightway from the glory of the mountain and looked down on the woman; and behold, he rejoiced more because of that which he beheld nigh unto him, than because of the glory that was afar off. For the fashion of his countenance was changed so as I cannot describe it. And immediately he stooped down, and took the woman by the hand and raised her up, and said unto her, “O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt.” Now when the woman ran back to her house, she found the child on a bed, struggling, and scarce held of her friends; who stood by, weeping and supposing the child to be possessed, not now with one devil but with many. Then she cried aloud for joy, and told her acquaintance how that Jesus had granted her prayer. And straightway, when the devil heard this saying, even at the mention of the name of Jesus, he tare the child, and departed, leaving her, as it seemed, lifeless. But presently she rose up whole and sound, being delivered from the devil; nor was she ever again afflicted. All this was done by the word of Jesus spoken by the Syrophœnician woman; for he was not present to heal the girl; albeit (as I gathered) the girl had before heard oftentimes of her mother that Jesus was to come to heal her, and how great things he had done for others that were possessed. But when Jesus had heard the words of the Syrophœnician woman, he was no longer minded to journey towards the north, but went back into the village where was the girl afflicted with the unclean spirit. Now the people would fain have constrained him to tarry with them; but he would not, but set his face southward again to go toward the Sea of Galilee. For the faith of the Syrophœnician had strangely moved him, insomuch that he spake as if the Redemption were nearer than it had been before; and, as I judge, he desired to make one more proof of the Pharisees, whether they also would not have faith in him. And straightway he crossed over and came again to Capernaum. As we rowed across the lake back to Capernaum we rejoiced greatly; for we thought that the time was at hand when the Galileans (for of the intent of the Pharisees we knew naught) would ask Jesus to work a sign in heaven, and Jesus would now grant their request. But when Jesus had done this, we trusted that the whole nation should have believed in him, and that the time should have come that he should redeem Israel. Howbeit certain of the disciples (and more especially Judas of Kerioth) took it ill that Jesus should have listened to the prayer of an heathen woman which was an idolater. For although Esaias saith that the Gentiles are to come to the rising of the Lord, and that the Gentiles shall seek to the Deliverer of Israel, yet had it been always fixed and rooted in our hearts that the deliverance of the Gentiles (if it should come to pass at all) must come by the uprising of the children of Israel, who should be princes and kings, conquering and triumphing over the nations of the earth. And then the Gentiles were to seek to Israel and to become proselytes, entering into the true fold. And this belief Jesus had confirmed in our hearts in that he had bidden us to go not to the Samaritans nor to the Gentiles, but only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Which saying Jesus himself now seemed to contradict, having thus healed the Syrophœnician maiden. But whether it had been revealed to our Master, through the words of the Syrophœnician, that the deliverance of the Gentiles should come more speedily than had been supposed, and not by fetching a compass, as it were, round all the borders of Israel, but by a more direct course, concerning this I know nothing: but Quartus judgeth that it was so. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edwin Abbott Abbott (2015). Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/48843/pg48843-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

Of signs in heaven; and concerning the healing of the Syrophœnician maiden

The $30,000 Bequest, and Other Stories by Mark Twain, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . CHAPTER X here CHAPTER X Was it Heaven? Or Hell? About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mark Twain (2004). The $30,000 Bequest, and Other Stories. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/142/pg142-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

Was it Heaven? Or Hell?

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the archdeacon

Hold on to your katanas, anime lovers, because ZAN is about to rock your world! The long-awaited Japan-U.S. joint production made its grand entrance on July 6, 2023, at the in the heart of Los Angeles. And let me tell you; it was a spectacle fit for the masters of Japanese pop culture. Anime Expo Now, if you’ve been living under a rock and have no idea what the Anime Expo is, let me enlighten you. It’s the largest anime convention in North America, a gathering of fanatics and industry insiders alike, all coming together to celebrate the wonder and whimsy of this cherished art form. It’s basically the Mecca for all otakus out there, and ZAN just joined the ranks of its illustrious showcases. The Anime Expo opening ceremony was ablaze with excitement as Yoshitaka Amano, the legendary painter known for his striking character illustrations in the “Final Fantasy” series, took center stage. Amano, who has donned the hat of the original writer and supervisor, kicked off the proceedings for this ambitious project. And boy, is it ambitious! According to Yoshitaka Amano, “ZAN started over twenty years ago, in 1999, with the simple premise of “hero,” and it was meant to involve art and video and different types of mediums. Over those twenty-some years, it’s grown and developed — matured, you could say — and evolved into something a bit different.” “For me, it’s basically a dream come true. I never imagined things would progress this far in this short amount of time, but here we are. And to be able to announce that in America, of all places, is a very special thing as well”, Amano added. ZAN, the brainchild of JAYMEN TOKYO and N LITE MEDIA, is set to bring together the best of both Japanese and American talents. With Japanese directors, screenwriters, and creators at the helm, the animation production promises to be a feast for the eyes. However, we’ll have to practice our patience a little longer since the release date is scheduled somewhere beyond the horizon of 2026. But hey, good things come to those who wait, right? Let’s talk about Amano’s involvement, shall we? This artistic maestro has conjured up a fantastical world of action and fantasy for ZAN. With over 300 breathtaking pieces of art, he has woven a tapestry of wonder that has captivated fans since its initial announcement in 2010 as “DEVA ZAN.” And let’s not forget the art book released by DARK HORSE COMICS in 2013, solidifying Amano’s reputation as a visual virtuoso. But wait, there’s more! Surprise guest alert! Picture this: the opening ceremony panel, buzzing with anticipation, and then BAM! In walks YOSHIKI, the famous pop singer and composer from Japan, formerly of the iconic X-Japan. The crowd went wild as it was revealed that Amano had graced YOSHIKI’s latest music album cover with the exquisite art of ZAN. Talk about a match made in Otaku heaven! Now, my dear anime aficionados, here’s a little treat for you. In case you haven’t had your fill of ZAN’s awesomeness, you can dive into the world of non-fungible tokens (NFTs). Head over to and behold the marvels that await you. These NFTs will undoubtedly make your inner collector swoon with delight. Trophee And if you’re one of those enthusiasts craving a taste of the ZAN manga series, fear not! Trophee has got you covered with their . It’s a portal to the mystical land where ZAN unfolds its epic saga. So, prepare yourself to be transported into a realm of adventure, excitement, and, let’s be honest, probably a fair amount of fan service too. manga reader So, dear readers, mark your calendars, keep your eyes peeled, and brace yourselves for the imminent arrival of ZAN! It’s bound to be a wild ride through a world painted by the talented brush of Yoshitaka Amano. And remember, in the words of our favorite anime characters, “Believe it!” Also published . here

Anime Expo 2023 in LA: ZAN Movie Revealed, A Match Made in Otaku Heaven

The A B C of Relativity by Bertrand Russells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . I. TOUCH AND SIGHT: THE EARTH AND THE HEAVENS I. TOUCH AND SIGHT: THE EARTH AND THE HEAVENS Everybody knows that Einstein has done something astonishing, but very few people know exactly what it is that he has done. It is generally recognized that he has revolutionized our conception of the physical world, but his new conceptions are wrapped up in mathematical technicalities. It is true that there are innumerable popular accounts of the theory of relativity, but they generally cease to be intelligible just at the point where they begin to say something important. The authors are hardly to blame for this. Many of the new ideas can be expressed in non-mathematical language, but they are none the less difficult on that account. What is demanded is a change in our imaginative picture of the world—a picture which has been handed down from remote, perhaps pre-human, ancestors, and has been learned by each one of us in early childhood. A change in our imagination is always difficult, especially when we are no longer young. The same sort of change was demanded by Copernicus, when he taught that the earth is not stationary and the heavens do not revolve about it once a day. To us now there is no difficulty in this idea, because we learned it before our mental habits had become fixed. Einstein’s ideas, similarly, will seem easy to a generation which has grown up with them; but for our generation a certain effort of imaginative reconstruction is unavoidable. In exploring the surface of the earth, we make use of all our senses, more particularly of the senses of touch and sight. In measuring lengths, parts of the human body are employed in pre-scientific ages: a “foot,” a “cubit,” a “span” are defined in this way. For longer distances, we think of the time it takes to walk from one place to another. We gradually learn to judge distances roughly by the eye, but we rely upon touch for accuracy. Moreover it is touch that gives us our sense of “reality.” Some things cannot be touched: rainbows, reflections in looking-glasses, and so on. These things puzzle children, whose metaphysical speculations are arrested by the information that what is in the looking glass is not “real.” Macbeth’s dagger was unreal because it was not “sensible to feeling as to sight.” Not only our geometry and physics, but our whole conception of what exists outside us, is based upon the sense of touch. We carry this even into our metaphors: a good speech is “solid,“ a bad speech is “gas,” because we feel that a gas is not quite “real.” In studying the heavens, we are debarred from all senses except sight. We cannot touch the sun, or travel to it; we cannot walk round the moon, or apply a foot rule to the Pleiades. Nevertheless, astronomers have unhesitatingly applied the geometry and physics which they found serviceable on the surface of the earth, and which they had based upon touch and travel. In doing so, they brought down trouble on their heads, which it has been left for Einstein to clear up. It has turned out that much of what we learned from the sense of touch was unscientific prejudice, which must be rejected if we are to have a true picture of the world. An illustration may help us to understand how much is impossible to the astronomer as compared to the man who is interested in things on the surface of the earth. Let us suppose that a drug is administered to you which makes you temporarily unconscious, and that when you wake you have lost your memory but not your reasoning powers. Let us suppose further that while you were unconscious you were carried into a balloon, which, when you come to, is sailing with the wind in a dark night—the night of the fifth of November if you are in England, or of the fourth of July if you are in America. You can see fireworks which are being sent off from the ground, from trains, and from aeroplanes traveling in all directions, but you cannot see the ground or the trains or the aeroplanes be cause of the darkness. What sort of picture of the world will you form? You will think that nothing is permanent: there are only brief flashes of light, which, during their short existence, travel through the void in the most various and bizarre curves. You cannot touch these flashes of light, you can only see them. Obviously your geometry and your physics and your metaphysics will be quite different from those of ordinary mortals. If an ordinary mortal is with you in the balloon, you will find his speech unintelligible. But if Einstein is with you, you will understand him more easily than the ordinary mortal would, because you will be free from a host of preconceptions which prevent most people from understanding him. The theory of relativity depends, to a considerable extent, upon getting rid of notions which are useful in ordinary life but not to our drugged balloonist. Circumstances on the surface of the earth, for various more or less accidental reasons, suggest conceptions which turn out to be inaccurate, although they have come to seem like necessities of thought. The most important of these circumstances is that most objects on the earth’s surface are fairly persistent and nearly stationary from a terrestrial point of view. If this were not the case, the idea of going a journey would not seem so definite as it does. If you want to travel from King’s Cross to Edinburgh, you know that you will find King’s Cross where it always has been, that the railway line will take the course that it did when you last made the journey, and that Waverley Station in Edinburgh will not have walked up to the Castle. You therefore say and think that you have traveled to Edinburgh, not that Edinburgh has traveled to you, though the latter statement would be just as accurate. The success of this common sense point of view depends upon a number of things which are really of the nature of luck. Suppose all the houses in London were perpetually moving about, like a swarm of bees; suppose railways moved and changed their shapes like avalanches; and finally suppose that material objects were perpetually being formed and dissolved like clouds. There is nothing impossible in these suppositions: something like them must have been verified when the earth was hotter than it is now. But obviously what we call a journey to Edinburgh would have no meaning in such a world. You would begin, no doubt, by asking the taxi-driver: “Where is King’s Cross this morning?“ At the station you would have to ask a similar question about Edinburgh, but the booking-office clerk would reply: “What part of Edinburgh do you mean, Sir? Prince’s Street has gone to Glasgow, the Castle has moved up into the Highlands, and Waverley Station is under water in the middle of the Firth of Forth.” And on the journey the stations would not be staying quiet, but some would be travelling north, some south, some east or west, perhaps much faster than the train. Under these conditions you could not say where you were at any moment. Indeed the whole notion that one is always in some definite “place” is due to the fortunate immovability of most of the large objects on the earth’s surface. The idea of “place” is only a rough practical approximation: there is nothing logically necessary about it, and it cannot be made precise. If we were not much larger than an electron, we should not have this impression of stability, which is only due to the grossness of our senses. King’s Cross, which to us looks solid, would be too vast to be conceived except by a few eccentric mathematicians. The bits of it that we could see would consist of little tiny points of matter, never coming into contact with each other, but perpetually whizzing round each other in an inconceivably rapid ballet-dance. The world of our experience would be quite as mad as the one in which the different parts of Edinburgh go for walks in different directions. If—to take the opposite extreme—you were as large as the sun and lived as long, with a corresponding slowness of perception, you would again find a higgledy-piggledy universe without permanence—stars and planets would come and go like morning mists, and nothing would remain in a fixed position relatively to anything else. The notion of comparative stability which forms part of our ordinary outlook is thus due to the fact that we are about the size we are, and live on a planet of which the surface is no longer very hot. If this were not the case, we should not find pre-relativity physics intellectually satisfying. Indeed, we should never have invented such theories. We should have had to arrive at relativity physics at one bound, or remain ignorant of scientific laws. It is fortunate for us that we were not faced with this alternative, since it is almost inconceivable that one man could have done the work of Euclid, Galileo, Newton, and Einstein. Yet without such an incredible genius physics could hardly have been discovered in a world where the universal flux was obvious to non-scientific observation. In astronomy, although the sun, moon, and stars continue to exist year after year, yet in other respects the world we have to deal with is very different from that of everyday life. As already observed, we depend exclusively on sight: the heavenly bodies cannot be touched, heard, smelt or tasted. Everything in the heavens is moving relatively to everything else. The earth is going round the sun, the sun is moving, very much faster than an express train, towards a point in the constellation “Hercules,” the “fixed” stars are scurrying hither and thither like a lot of frightened hens. There are no well-marked places in the sky, like King’s Cross and Edinburgh. When you travel from place to place on the earth, you say the train moves and not the stations, because the stations preserve their topographical relations to each other and the surrounding country. But in astronomy it is arbitrary which you call the train and which the station: the question is to be decided purely by convenience and as a matter of convention. In this respect, it is interesting to contrast Einstein and Copernicus. Before Copernicus, people thought that the earth stood still and the heavens revolved about it once a day. Copernicus taught that “really” the earth rotates once a day, and the daily revolution of sun and stars is only “apparent.” Galileo and Newton endorsed this view, and many things were thought to prove it—for example, the flattening of the earth at the poles, and the fact that bodies are heavier there than at the equator. But in the modern theory the question between Copernicus and his predecessors is merely one of convenience; all motion is relative, and there is no difference between the two statements: “the earth rotates once a day” and “the heavens revolve about the earth once a day.” The two mean exactly the same thing, just as it means the same thing if I say that a certain length is six feet or two yards. Astronomy is easier if we take the sun as fixed than if we take the earth, just as accounts are easier in a decimal coinage. But to say more for Copernicus is to assume absolute motion, which is a fiction. All motion is relative, and it is a mere convention to take one body as at rest. All such conventions are equally legitimate, though not all are equally convenient. There is another matter of great importance, in which astronomy differs from terrestrial physics because of its exclusive dependence upon sight. Both popular thought and old-fashioned physics used the notion of “force,” which seemed intelligible because it was associated with familiar sensations. When we are walking, we have sensations connected with our muscles which we do not have when we are sitting still. In the days before mechanical traction, although people could travel by sitting in their carriages, they could see the horses exerting themselves and evidently putting out “force” in the same way as human beings do. Everybody knew from experience what it is to push or pull, or to be pushed or pulled. These very familiar facts made “force” seem a natural basis for dynamics. But Newton’s law of gravitation introduced a difficulty. The force between two billiard balls appeared intelligible, because we know what it feels like to bump into another person; but the force between the earth and the sun, which are ninety-three million miles apart, was mysterious. Newton himself regarded this “action at a distance” as impossible, and believed that there was some hitherto undiscovered mechanism by which the sun’s influence was transmitted to the planets. However, no such mechanism was discovered, and gravitation remained a puzzle. The fact is that the whole conception of “force” is a mistake. The sun does not exert any force on the planets; in Einstein’s law of gravitation, the planet only pays attention to what it finds in its own neighborhood. The way in which this works will be explained in a later chapter; for the present we are only concerned with the necessity of abandoning the notion of “force,” which was due to misleading conceptions derived from the sense of touch. As physics has advanced, it has appeared more and more that sight is less misleading than touch as a source of fundamental notions about matter. The apparent simplicity in the collision of billiard balls is quite illusory. As a matter of fact, the two billiard balls never touch at all; what really happens is inconceivably complicated, but is more analogous to what happens when a comet penetrates the solar system and goes away again than to what common sense supposes to happen. Most of what we have said hitherto was already recognized by physicists before Einstein invented the theory of relativity. “Force” was known to be merely a mathematical fiction, and it was generally held that motion is a merely relative phenomenon—that is to say, when two bodies are changing their relative position, we cannot say that one is moving while the other is at rest, since the occurrence is merely a change in their relation to each other. But a great labor was required in order to bring the actual procedure of physics into harmony with these new convictions. Newton believed in force and in absolute space and time; he embodied these beliefs in his technical methods, and his methods remained those of later physicists. Einstein invented a new technique, free from Newton’s assumptions. But in order to do so he had to change fundamentally the old ideas of space and time, which had been unchallenged from time immemorial. This is what makes both the difficulty and the interest of his theory. But before explaining it there are some preliminaries which are indispensable. These will occupy the next two chapters. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Bertrand Williams (2004). THE A B C OF RELATIVITY. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/67104/67104-h/67104-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

Touch and Sight: The Earth and The Heavens

Poor Folk by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . September 18th. September 18th. MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Today there took place in this house a most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for occurrence. First of all, let me tell you that poor Gorshkov has been entirely absolved of guilt. The decision has been long in coming, but this morning he went to hear the final resolution read. It was entirely in his favour. Any culpability which had been imputed to him for negligence and irregularity was removed by the resolution. Likewise, he was authorised to recover of the merchant a large sum of money. Thus, he stands entirely justified, and has had his character cleansed from all stain. In short, he could not have wished for a more complete vindication. When he arrived home at three o’clock he was looking as white as a sheet, and his lips were quivering. Yet there was a smile on his face as he embraced his wife and children. In a body the rest of us ran to congratulate him, and he was greatly moved by the act. Bowing to us, he pressed our hands in turn. As he did so I thought, somehow, that he seemed to have grown taller and straighter, and that the pus-drops seemed to have disappeared from his eyelashes. Yet how agitated he was, poor fellow! He could not rest quietly for two minutes together, but kept picking up and then dropping whatsoever came to his hand, and bowing and smiling without intermission, and sitting down and getting up, and again sitting down, and chattering God only knows what about his honour and his good name and his little ones. How he did talk—yes, and weep too! Indeed, few of ourselves could refrain from tears; although Rataziaev remarked (probably to encourage Gorshkov) that honour mattered nothing when one had nothing to eat, and that money was the chief thing in the world, and that for it alone ought God to be thanked. Then he slapped Gorshkov on the shoulder, but I thought that Gorshkov somehow seemed hurt at this. He did not express any open displeasure, but threw Rataziaev a curious look, and removed his hand from his shoulder. ONCE upon a time he would not have acted thus; but characters differ. For example, I myself should have hesitated, at such a season of rejoicing, to seem proud, even though excessive deference and civility at such a moment might have been construed as a lapse both of moral courage and of mental vigour. However, this is none of my business. All that Gorshkov said was: “Yes, money IS a good thing, glory be to God!” In fact, the whole time that we remained in his room he kept repeating to himself: “Glory be to God, glory be to God!” His wife ordered a richer and more delicate meal than usual, and the landlady herself cooked it, for at heart she is not a bad woman. But until the meal was served Gorshkov could not remain still. He kept entering everyone’s room in turn (whether invited thither or not), and, seating himself smilingly upon a chair, would sometimes say something, and sometimes not utter a word, but get up and go out again. In the naval officer’s room he even took a pack of playing-cards into his hand, and was thereupon invited to make a fourth in a game; but after losing a few times, as well as making several blunders in his play, he abandoned the pursuit. “No,” said he, “that is the sort of man that I am—that is all that I am good for,” and departed. Next, encountering myself in the corridor, he took my hands in his, and gazed into my face with a rather curious air. Then he pressed my hands again, and moved away still smiling, smiling, but in an odd, weary sort of manner, much as a corpse might smile. Meanwhile his wife was weeping for joy, and everything in their room was decked in holiday guise. Presently dinner was served, and after they had dined Gorshkov said to his wife: “See now, dearest, I am going to rest a little while;” and with that went to bed. Presently he called his little daughter to his side, and, laying his hand upon the child’s head, lay a long while looking at her. Then he turned to his wife again, and asked her: “What of Petinka? Where is our Petinka?” whereupon his wife crossed herself, and replied: “Why, our Petinka is dead!” “Yes, yes, I know—of course,” said her husband. “Petinka is now in the Kingdom of Heaven.” This showed his wife that her husband was not quite in his right senses—that the recent occurrence had upset him; so she said: “My dearest, you must sleep awhile.” “I will do so,” he replied, “—at once—I am rather—” And he turned over, and lay silent for a time. Then again he turned round and tried to say something, but his wife could not hear what it was. “What do you say?” she inquired, but he made no reply. Then again she waited a few moments until she thought to herself, “He has gone to sleep,” and departed to spend an hour with the landlady. At the end of that hour she returned—only to find that her husband had not yet awoken, but was still lying motionless. “He is sleeping very soundly,” she reflected as she sat down and began to work at something or other. Since then she has told us that when half an hour or so had elapsed she fell into a reverie. What she was thinking of she cannot remember, save that she had forgotten altogether about her husband. Then she awoke with a curious sort of sensation at her heart. The first thing that struck her was the deathlike stillness of the room. Glancing at the bed, she perceived her husband to be lying in the same position as before. Thereupon she approached him, turned the coverlet back, and saw that he was stiff and cold—that he had died suddenly, as though smitten with a stroke. But of what precisely he died God only knows. The affair has so terribly impressed me that even now I cannot fully collect my thoughts. It would scarcely be believed that a human being could die so simply—and he such a poor, needy wretch, this Gorshkov! What a fate, what a fate, to be sure! His wife is plunged in tears and panic-stricken, while his little daughter has run away somewhere to hide herself. In their room, however, all is bustle and confusion, for the doctors are about to make an autopsy on the corpse. But I cannot tell you things for certain; I only know that I am most grieved, most grieved. How sad to think that one never knows what even a day, what even an hour, may bring forth! One seems to die to so little purpose!...—Your own MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Fyodor Dostoyevsky (2000). Poor Folk. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2302/pg2302-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

Petinka is now in the Kingdom of Heaven

Short Stories by Fyodor Dostoyevsky is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE HEAVENLY CHRISTMAS TREE THE HEAVENLY CHRISTMAS TREE I am a novelist, and I suppose I have made up this story. I write "I suppose," though I know for a fact that I have made it up, but yet I keep fancying that it must have happened somewhere at some time, that it must have happened on Christmas Eve in some great town in a time of terrible frost. I have a vision of a boy, a little boy, six years old or even younger. This boy woke up that morning in a cold damp cellar. He was dressed in a sort of little dressing-gown and was shivering with cold. There was a cloud of white steam from his breath, and sitting on a box in the corner, he blew the steam out of his mouth and amused himself in his dullness watching it float away. But he was terribly hungry. Several times that morning he went up to the plank bed where his sick mother was lying on a mattress as thin as a pancake, with some sort of bundle under her head for a pillow. How had she come here? She must have come with her boy from some other town and suddenly fallen ill. The landlady who let the "corners" had been taken two days before to the police station, the lodgers were out and about as the holiday was so near, and the only one left had been lying for the last twenty-four hours dead drunk, not having waited for Christmas. In another corner of the room a wretched old woman of eighty, who had once been a children's nurse but was now left to die friendless, was moaning and groaning with rheumatism, scolding and grumbling at the boy so that he was afraid to go near her corner. He had got a drink of water in the outer room, but could not find a crust anywhere, and had been on the point of waking his mother a dozen times. He felt frightened at last in the darkness: it had long been dusk, but no light was kindled. Touching his mother's face, he was surprised that she did not move at all, and that she was as cold as the wall. "It is very cold here," he thought. He stood a little, unconsciously letting his hands rest on the dead woman's shoulders, then he breathed on his fingers to warm them, and then quietly fumbling for his cap on the bed, he went out of the cellar. He would have gone earlier, but was afraid of the big dog which had been howling all day at the neighbour's door at the top of the stairs. But the dog was not there now, and he went out into the street. Mercy on us, what a town! He had never seen anything like it before. In the town from which he had come, it was always such black darkness at night. There was one lamp for the whole street, the little, low-pitched, wooden houses were closed up with shutters, there was no one to be seen in the street after dusk, all the people shut themselves up in their houses, and there was nothing but the howling of packs of dogs, hundreds and thousands of them barking and howling all night. But there it was so warm and he was given food, while here—oh, dear, if he only had something to eat! And what a noise and rattle here, what light and what people, horses and carriages, and what a frost! The frozen steam hung in clouds over the horses, over their warmly breathing mouths; their hoofs clanged against the stones through the powdery snow, and every one pushed so, and—oh, dear, how he longed for some morsel to eat, and how wretched he suddenly felt. A policeman walked by and turned away to avoid seeing the boy. Here was another street—oh, what a wide one, here he would be run over for certain; how everyone was shouting, racing and driving along, and the light, the light! And what was this? A huge glass window, and through the window a tree reaching up to the ceiling; it was a fir tree, and on it were ever so many lights, gold papers and apples and little dolls and horses; and there were children clean and dressed in their best running about the room, laughing and playing and eating and drinking something. And then a little girl began dancing with one of the boys, what a pretty little girl! And he could hear the music through the window. The boy looked and wondered and laughed, though his toes were aching with the cold and his fingers were red and stiff so that it hurt him to move them. And all at once the boy remembered how his toes and fingers hurt him, and began crying, and ran on; and again through another window-pane he saw another Christmas tree, and on a table cakes of all sorts—almond cakes, red cakes and yellow cakes, and three grand young ladies were sitting there, and they gave the cakes to any one who went up to them, and the door kept opening, lots of gentlemen and ladies went in from the street. The boy crept up, suddenly opened the door and went in. Oh, how they shouted at him and waved him back! One lady went up to him hurriedly and slipped a kopeck into his hand, and with her own hands opened the door into the street for him! How frightened he was. And the kopeck rolled away and clinked upon the steps; he could not bend his red fingers to hold it tight. The boy ran away and went on, where he did not know. He was ready to cry again but he was afraid, and ran on and on and blew his fingers. And he was miserable because he felt suddenly so lonely and terrified, and all at once, mercy on us! What was this again? People were standing in a crowd admiring. Behind a glass window there were three little dolls, dressed in red and green dresses, and exactly, exactly as though they were alive. One was a little old man sitting and playing a big violin, the two others were standing close by and playing little violins and nodding in time, and looking at one another, and their lips moved, they were speaking, actually speaking, only one couldn't hear through the glass. And at first the boy thought they were alive, and when he grasped that they were dolls he laughed. He had never seen such dolls before, and had no idea there were such dolls! And he wanted to cry, but he felt amused, amused by the dolls. All at once he fancied that some one caught at his smock behind: a wicked big boy was standing beside him and suddenly hit him on the head, snatched off his cap and tripped him up. The boy fell down on the ground, at once there was a shout, he was numb with fright, he jumped up and ran away. He ran, and not knowing where he was going, ran in at the gate of some one's courtyard, and sat down behind a stack of wood: "They won't find me here, besides it's dark!" [153] [154] He sat huddled up and was breathless from fright, and all at once, quite suddenly, he felt so happy: his hands and feet suddenly left off aching and grew so warm, as warm as though he were on a stove; then he shivered all over, then he gave a start, why, he must have been asleep. How nice to have a sleep here! "I'll sit here a little and go and look at the dolls again," said the boy, and smiled thinking of them. "Just as though they were alive!..." And suddenly he heard his mother singing over him. "Mammy, I am asleep; how nice it is to sleep here!" "Come to my Christmas tree, little one," a soft voice suddenly whispered over his head. He thought that this was still his mother, but no, it was not she. Who it was calling him, he could not see, but some one bent over and embraced him in the darkness; and he stretched out his hands to him, and ... and all at once—oh, what a bright light! Oh, what a Christmas tree! And yet it was not a fir tree, he had never seen a tree like that! Where was he now? Everything was bright and shining, and all round him were dolls; but no, they were not dolls, they were little boys and girls, only so bright and shining. They all came flying round him, they all kissed him, took him and carried him along with them, and he was flying himself, and he saw that his mother was looking at him and laughing joyfully. "Mammy, Mammy; oh, how nice it is here, Mammy!" And again he kissed the children and wanted to tell them at once of those dolls in the shop window. "Who are you, boys? Who are you, girls?" he asked, laughing and admiring them. [155] "This is Christ's Christmas tree," they answered. "Christ always has a Christmas tree on this day, for the little children who have no tree of their own...." And he found out that all these little boys and girls were children just like himself; that some had been frozen in the baskets in which they had as babies been laid on the doorsteps of well-to-do Petersburg people, others had been boarded out with Finnish women by the Foundling and had been suffocated, others had died at their starved mother's breasts (in the Samara famine), others had died in the third-class railway carriages from the foul air; and yet they were all here, they were all like angels about Christ, and He was in the midst of them and held out His hands to them and blessed them and their sinful mothers.... And the mothers of these children stood on one side weeping; each one knew her boy or girl, and the children flew up to them and kissed them and wiped away their tears with their little hands, and begged them not to weep because they were so happy. And down below in the morning the porter found the little dead body of the frozen child on the woodstack; they sought out his mother too.... She had died before him. They met before the Lord God in heaven. Why have I made up such a story, so out of keeping with an ordinary diary, and a writer's above all? And I promised two stories dealing with real events! But that is just it, I keep fancying that all this may have happened really—that is, what took place in the cellar and on the woodstack; but as for Christ's Christmas tree, I cannot tell you whether that could have happened or not. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Fyodor Dostoyevsky (2012).Short Stories. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/40745/pg40745-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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