The Project Gutenberg Ebook A Modern Chronicle, Entire, by Winston Churchill WC#45 in our series by Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston) Copyright laws are changing all over the world Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file Please do not remove it Do not change or edit the header without written permission Please read the “legal small print,” and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** Title: A Modern Chronicle, Complete Author: Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston Churchill) Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5382] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on June 28, 2002] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN CHRONICLE, ALL, BY CHURCHILL *** This eBook was produced by David Widger [NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author’s ideas before making an entire meal of them D.W.] A MODERN CHRONICLE By Winston Churchill CONTENTS BOOK I Volume 1 I WHAT’S IN HEREDITY? II PERDITA RECALLED III CONCERNING PROVIDENCE IV OF TEMPERAMENT V IN WHICH PROVIDENCE BEEPS FAITH VI HONORA HAS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD Volume 2 VII THE OLYMPIAN ORDER VIII A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS IX IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES X IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON XI WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN XII WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS HOLT BOOK II Volume 3 I SO LONG AS YE BOTH SHALL LIVE II “STAFFORD PARK” III THE GREAT UNATTACHED IV THE NEW DOCTRINE V QUICKSANDS VI GAD AND MENI Volume 4 VII OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS VIII OF MENTAL PROCESSES-FEMININE AND INSOLUBLE IX INTRODUCING A REVOLUTIONIZING VEHICLE X ON THE ART OF LION TAMING XI CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS BOOK III Volume 5 I ASCENDI II THE PATH OF PHILANTHROPY III VINELAND IV THE VIKING V THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST Volume 6 VI CLIO, OR THALIA? VII “LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS” VIII IN WHICH THE LAW BETRAYS A HEART IX WYLIE STREET X THE PRICE OF FREEDOM Volume 7 XI IN WHICH IT IS ALL DONE OVER AGAIN XII THE ENTRANCE INTO EDEN XIII OF THE WORLD BEYOND THE GATES XIV CONTAINING PHILOSOPHY FROM MR GRAINGER XV THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY Volume 8 XVI IN WHICH A MIRROR IS HELD UP XVII THE RENEWAL OF AN ANCIENT HOSPITALITY XVIII IN WHICH MR ERWIN SEES PARIS A MODERN CHRONICLE CHAPTER I WHAT’S IN HEREDITY Honora Leffingwell is the original name of our heroine She was born in the last quarter of the Nineteenth Century, at Nice, in France, and she spent the early years of her life in St Louis, a somewhat conservative old city on the banks of the Mississippi River Her father was Randolph Leffingwell, and he died in the early flower of his manhood, while filling with a grace that many remember the post of United States Consul at Nice As a linguist he was a phenomenon, and his photograph in the tortoise-shell frame proves indubitably, to anyone acquainted with the fashions of 1870, that he was a master of that subtlest of all arts, dress He had gentle blood in his veins, which came from Virginia through Kentucky in a coach and six, and he was the equal in appearance and manners of any duke who lingered beside classic seas Honora has often pictured to herself a gay villa set high above the curving shore, the amethyst depths shading into emerald, laced with milk-white foam, the vivid colours of the town, the gay costumes; the excursions, the dinner-parties presided over by the immaculate young consul in three languages, and the guests chosen from the haute noblesse of Europe Such was the vision in her youthful mind, added to by degrees as she grew into young-ladyhood and surreptitiously became familiar with the writings of Ouida and the Duchess, and other literature of an educating cosmopolitan nature Honora’s biography should undoubtedly contain a sketch of Mrs Randolph Leffingwell Beauty and dash and a knowledge of how to seat a table seem to have been the lady’s chief characteristics; the only daughter of a carefully dressed and carefully, preserved widower, likewise a linguist,—whose superrefined tastes and the limited straits to which he, the remaining scion of an old Southern family, had been reduced by a gentlemanly contempt for money, led him ‘to choose Paris rather than New York as a place of residence One of the occasional and carefully planned trips to the Riviera proved fatal to the beautiful but reckless Myrtle Allison She, who might have chosen counts or dukes from the Tagus to the Danube, or even crossed the Channel; took the dashing but impecunious American consul, with a faith in his future that was sublime Without going over too carefully the upward path which led to the post of their country’s representative at the court of St James, neither had the slightest doubt that Randolph Leffingwell would tread it It is needless to dwell upon the chagrin of Honora’s maternal grandfather, Howard Allison Esquire, over this turn of affairs, this unexpected bouleversement, as he spoke of it in private to his friends in his Parisian club For many years he had watched the personal attractions of his daughter grow, and a brougham and certain other delights not to be mentioned had gradually become, in his mind, synonymous with old age The brougham would have on its panels the Allison crest, and his distinguished (and titled) son-in-law would drop in occasionally at the little apartment on the Boulevard Haussmann Alas, for visions, for legitimate hopes shattered forever! On the day that Randolph Leffingwell led Miss Allison down the aisle of the English church the vision of the brougham and the other delights faded Howard Allison went back to his club Three years later, while on an excursion with Sir Nicholas Baker and a merry party on the Italian aide, the horses behind which Mr and Mrs Leffingwell were driving with their host ran away, and in the flight managed to precipitate the vehicle, and themselves, down the side of one of the numerous deep valleys of the streams seeking the Mediterranean Thus, by a singular caprice of destiny Honors was deprived of both her parents at a period which—some chose to believe—was the height of their combined glories Randolph Leffingwell lived long enough to be taken back to Nice, and to consign his infant daughter and sundry other unsolved problems to his brother Tom Brother Tom—or Uncle Tom, as we must call him with Honora—cheerfully accepted the charge For his legacies in life had been chiefly blessings in disguise He was paying teller of the Prairie Bank, and the thermometer registered something above 90deg Fahrenheit on the July morning when he stood behind his wicket reading a letter from Howard Allison, Esquire, relative to his niece Mr Leffingwell was at this period of his life forty-eight, but the habit he had acquired of assuming responsibilities and burdens seemed to have had the effect of making his age indefinite He was six feet tall, broadshouldered, his mustache and hair already turning; his eyebrows were a trifle bushy, and his eyes reminded men of one eternal and highly prized quality— honesty They were blue grey Ordinarily they shed a light which sent people away from his window the happier without knowing why; but they had been known, on rare occasions, to flash on dishonesty and fraud like the lightnings of the Lord Mr Isham, the president of the bank, coined a phrase about him He said that Thomas Leffingwell was constitutionally honest Although he had not risen above the position of paying teller, Thomas Leffingwell had a unique place in the city of his birth; and the esteem in which he was held by capitalists and clerks proves that character counts for something On his father’s failure and death he had entered the Prairie Bank, at eighteen, and never left it If he had owned it, he could not have been treated by the customers with more respect The city, save for a few notable exceptions, like Mr Isham, called him Mr Leffingwell, but behind his back often spoke of him as Tom On the particular hot morning in question, as he stood in his seersucker coat reading the unquestionably pompous letter of Mr Allison announcing that his niece was on the high seas, he returned the greetings of his friends with his usual kindness and cheer In an adjoining compartment a long-legged boy of fourteen was busily stamping letters “Peter,” said Mr Leffingwell, “go ask Mr Isham if I may see him.” It is advisable to remember the boy’s name It was Peter Erwin, and he was a favourite in the bank, where he had been introduced by Mr Leffingwell himself He was an orphan and lived with his grandmother, an impoverished old lady with good blood in her veins who boarded in Graham’s Row, on Olive Street Suffice it to add, at this time, that he worshipped Mr Leffingwell, and that he was back in a twinkling with the information that Mr Isham was awaiting him The president was seated at his desk In spite of the thermometer he gave no appearance of discomfort in his frock-coat He had scant, sandy-grey whiskers, a tightly closed and smooth-shaven upper lip, a nose with-a decided ridge, and rather small but penetrating eyes in which the blue pigment had been used sparingly His habitual mode of speech was both brief and sharp, but people remarked that he modified it a little for Tom Leffingwell “Come in, Tom,” he said “Anything the matter?” “Mr Isham, I want a week off, to go to New York.” The request, from Tom Leffingwell, took Mr Isham’s breath One of the bank president’s characteristics was an extreme interest in the private affairs of those who came within his zone of influence and especially when these affairs evinced any irregularity “Randolph again?” he asked quickly Tom walked to the window, and stood looking out into the street His voice shook as he answered: “Ten days ago I learned that my brother was dead, Mr Isham.” The president glanced at the broad back of his teller Mr Isham’s voice was firm, his face certainly betrayed no feeling, but a flitting gleam of satisfaction might have been seen in his eye “Of course, Tom, you may go,” he answered Thus came to pass an event in the lives of Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary, that journey to New York (their first) of two nights and two days to fetch Honora We need not dwell upon all that befell them The first view of the Hudson, the first whiff of the salt air on this unwonted holiday, the sights of this crowded city of wealth,—all were tempered by the thought of the child coming into their lives They were standing on the pier when the windows were crimson in the early light, and at nine o’clock on that summer’s morning the Albania was docked, and the passengers came crowding down the gang-plank Prosperous tourists, most of them, with servants and stewards carrying bags of English design and checked steamer rugs; and at last a ruddy-faced bonne with streamers and a bundle of ribbons and laces—Honora—Honora, aged eighteen months, gazing at a subjugated world “What a beautiful child! exclaimed a woman on the pier.” Was it instinct or premonition that led them to accost the bonne? “Oui, Leffingwell!” she cried, gazing at them in some perplexity Three children of various sizes clung to her skirts, and a younger nurse carried a golden-haired little girl of Honora’s age A lady and gentleman followed The lady was beginning to look matronly, and no second glance was required to perceive that she was a person of opinion and character Mr Holt was smaller than his wife, neat in dress and unobtrusive in appearance In the rich Mrs Holt, the friend of the Randolph Leffingwells, Aunt Mary was prepared to find a more vapidly fashionable personage, and had schooled herself forthwith “You are Mrs Thomas Leffingwell?” she asked “Well, I am relieved.” The lady’s eyes, travelling rapidly over Aunt Mary’s sober bonnet and brooch and gown, made it appear that these features in Honora’s future guardian gave her the relief in question “Honora, this is your aunt.” Honora smiled from amidst the laces, and Aunt Mary, only too ready to capitulate, surrendered She held out her arms Tears welled up in the Frenchwoman’s eyes as she abandoned her charge “Pauvre mignonne!” she cried But Mrs Holt rebuked the nurse sharply, in French,—a language with which neither Aunt Mary nor Uncle Tom was familiar Fortunately, perhaps Mrs Holt’s remark was to the effect that Honora was going to a sensible home “Hortense loves her better than my own children,” said that lady Honora seemed quite content in the arms of Aunt Mary, who was gazing so earnestly into the child’s face that she did not at first hear Mrs Holt’s invitation to take breakfast with them on Madison Avenue, and then she declined politely While grossing on the steamer, Mrs Holt had decided quite clearly in her mind just what she was going to say to the child’s future guardian, but there was something in Aunt Mary’s voice and manner which made these remarks seem unnecessary—although Mrs Holt was secretly disappointed not to deliver them “It was fortunate that we happened to, be in Nice at the time,” she said with the evident feeling that some explanation was due “I did not know poor Mrs Randolph Leffingwell very—very intimately, or Mr Leffingwell It was such a sudden—such a terrible affair But Mr Holt and I were only too glad to do what we could.” “We feel very grateful to you,” said Aunt Mary, quietly Mrs Holt looked at her with a still more distinct approval, being tolerably sure that Mrs Thomas Leffingwell understood She had cleared her skirts of any possible implication of intimacy with the late Mrs Randolph, and done so with a master touch In the meantime Honora had passed to Uncle Tom After securing the little trunk, and settling certain matters with Mr Holt, they said good-by to her late kind protectors, and started off for the nearest street-cars, Honora pulling Uncle Tom’s mustache More than one pedestrian paused to look back at the tall man carrying the beautiful child, bedecked like a young princess, and more than one passenger in the street cars smiled at them both during his busy life had he got this thing which others had sought in many voyages in vain? Other excursions they made, and sometimes these absorbed a day It was a wonderful month, that Parisian September, which Honora, when she allowed herself to think, felt that she had no right to A month filled to the brim with colour: the stone facades of the houses, which in certain lights were what the French so aptly call bleuatre; the dense green foliage of the horse-chestnut trees, the fantastic iron grills, the Arc de Triomphe in the centre of its circle at sunset, the wide shaded avenues radiating from it, the bewildering Champs Elysees, the blue waters of the Seine and the graceful bridges spanning it, Notre Dame against the sky Their walks took them, too, into quainter, forgotten regions where history was grim and half-effaced, and they speculated on the France of other days They went farther afield; and it was given them to walk together down green vistas cut for kings, to linger on terraces with the river far below them, and the roofs of Paris in the hazy distance; that Paris, sullen so long, the mutterings of which the kings who had sat there must have heard with dread; that Paris which had finally risen in its wrath and taken the pleasure-houses and the parks for itself Once they went out to Chantilly, the cameo-like chateau that stands mirrored in its waters, and wandered through the alleys there Honora had left her parasol on the parapet, and as they returned Peter went to get it, while she awaited him at a little distance A group was chatting gayly on the lawn, and one of them, a middle-aged, well-dressed man hailed him with an air of fellowship, and Peter stopped for a moment’s talk “We were speaking of ambassadors the other day,” he said when he joined her; “that was our own, Minturn.” “We were speaking of them nearly a month ago,” she said “A month ago! I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed “What did he say to you?” Honora inquired presently “He was abusing me for not letting him know I was in Paris.” “Peter, you ought to have let him know!” “I didn’t come over here to see the ambassador,” answered Peter, gayly She talked less than usual on their drive homeward, but he did not seem to notice the fact Dusk was already lurking in the courtyards and byways of the quiet quarter when the porter let them in, and the stone stairway of the old hotel was almost in darkness The sitting-room, with its yellow, hangings snugly drawn and its pervading but soft light, was a grateful change And while she was gone to—remove her veil and hat, Peter looked around it It was redolent of her A high vase of remarkable beauty, filled with white roses, stood on the gueridon He went forward and touched it, and closed his eyes as though in pain When he opened them he saw her standing in the archway She had taken off her coat, and was in a simple white muslin gown, with a black belt—a costume that had become habitual Her age was thirty The tragedy and the gravity of her life during these later years had touched her with something that before was lacking In the street, in the galleries, people had turned to look at her; not with impudent stares She caught attention, aroused imagination Once, the year before, she had had a strange experience with a well-known painter, who, in an impulsive note, had admitted following her home and bribing the concierge He craved a few sittings Her expression now, as she looked at Peter, was graver than usual “You must not come to-morrow,” she said “I thought we were going to Versailles again,” he replied in surprise “I have made the arrangements.” “I have changed my mind I’m not going.” “You want to postpone it?” he asked She took a chair beside the little blaze in the fireplace “Sit down, Peter I wish to say something to you I have been wishing to do so for some time.” “Do you object if I stand a moment?” he said “I feel so much more comfortable standing, especially when I am going to be scolded.” “Yes,” she admitted, “I am going to scold you Your conscience has warned you.” “On the contrary,” he declared, “it has never been quieter If I have offended; it is through ignorance.” “It is through charity, as usual,” she said m a low voice “If your conscience be quiet, mine is not It is in myself that I am disappointed—I have been very selfish I have usurped you I have known it all along, and I have done very wrong in not relinquishing you before.” “Who would have shown me Paris?” he exclaimed “No,” she continued, “you would not have been alone If I had needed proof of that fact, I had it to-day—” “Oh, Minturn,” he interrupted; “think of me hanging about an Embassy and trying not to spill tea!” And he smiled at the image that presented Her own smile was fleeting “You would never do that, I know,” she said gravely “You are still too modest, Peter, but the time has gone by when I can be easily deceived You have a great reputation among men of affairs, an unique one In spite of the fact that you are distinctly American, you have a wide interest in what is going on in the world And you have an opportunity here to meet people of note, people really worth while from every point of view You have no right to neglect it.” He was silent a moment, looking down at her She was leaning forward, her eyes fixed on the fire, her hands clasped between her knees “Do you think I care for that?” he asked “You ought to care,” she said, without looking up “And it is my duty to try to make you care.” “Honora, why do you think I came over here?” he said “To see Paris,” she answered “I have your own word for it To—to continue your education It never seems to stop.” “Did you really believe that?” “Of course I believed it What could be more natural? And you have never had a holiday like this.” “No,” he agreed “I admit that.” “I don’t know how much longer you are going to stay,” she said “You have not been abroad before, and there are other places you ought to go.” “I’ll get you to make out an itinerary.” “Peter, can’t you see that I’m serious? I have decided to take matters in my own hands The rest of the time you are here, you may come to see me twice a week I shall instruct the concierge.” He turned and grasped the mantel shelf with both hands, and touched the log with the toe of his boot “What I told you about seeing Paris may be called polite fiction,” he said “I came over here to see you I have been afraid to say it until to-day, and I am afraid to say it now.” She sat very still The log flared up again, and he turned slowly and looked at the shadows in her face “You-you have always been good to me,” she answered “I have never deserved it—I have never understood it If it is any satisfaction for you to know that what I have saved of myself I owe to you, I tell you so freely.” “That,” he said, “is something for which God forbid that I should take credit What you are is due to the development of a germ within you, a development in which I have always had faith I came here to see you, I came here because I love you, because I have always loved you, Honora.” “Oh, no, not that!” she cried; “not that!” “Why not?” he asked “It is something I cannot help, something beyond my power to prevent if I would But I would not I am proud of it, and I should be lost without it I have had it always I have come over to beg you to marry me.” “It’s impossible! Can’t you see it’s impossible?” “You don’t love me?” he said Into those few words was thrown all the suffering of his silent years “I don’t know what I feel for you,” she answered in an agonized voice, her fingers tightening over the backs of her white hands “If reverence be love—if trust be love, infinite and absolute trust—if gratitude be love—if emptiness after you are gone be a sign of it—yes, I love you If the power to see clearly only through you, to interpret myself only by your aid be love, I acknowledge it I tell you so freely, as of your right to know And the germ of which you spoke is you You have grown until you have taken possession of—of what is left of me If I had only been able to see clearly from the first, Peter, I should be another woman to-day, a whole woman, a wise woman Oh, I have thought of it much The secret of life was there at my side from the time I was able to pronounce your name, and I couldn’t see it You had it You stayed You took duty where you found it, and it has made you great Oh, I don’t mean to speak in a worldly sense When I say that, it is to express the highest human quality of which I can think and feel But I can’t marry you You must see it.” “I cannot see it,” he replied, when he had somewhat gained control of himself “Because I should be wronging you.” “How?” he asked “In the first place, I should be ruining your career.” “If I had a career,” he said, smiling gently, “you couldn’t ruin it You both overestimate and underestimate the world’s opinion, Honora As my wife, it will not treat you cruelly And as for my career, as you call it, it has merely consisted in doing as best I could the work that has come to me I have tried to serve well those who have employed me, and if my services be of value to them, and to those who may need me in the future, they are not going to reject me If I have any worth in the world, you will but add to it Without you I am incomplete.” She looked up at him wonderingly “Yes, you are great,” she said “You pity me, you think of my loneliness.” “It is true I cannot bear to picture you here,” he exclaimed “The thought tortures me, but it is because I love you, because I wish to take and shield you I am not a man to marry a woman without love It seems to me that you should know me well enough to believe that, Honora There never has been any other woman in my life, and there never can be I have given you proof of it, God knows.” “I am not what I was,” she said, “I am not what I was I have been dragged down.” He bent and lifted her hand from her knee, and raised it to his lips, a homage from him that gave her an exquisite pain “If you had been dragged down,” he answered simply, “my love would have been killed I know something of the horrors you have been through, as though I had suffered them myself They might have dragged down another woman, Honora But they have strangely ennobled you.” She drew her hand away “No,” she said, “I do not deserve happiness It cannot be my destiny.” “Destiny,” he repeated “Destiny is a thing not understandable by finite minds It is not necessarily continued tragedy and waste, of that I am certain Only a little thought is required, it seems to me, to assure us that we cannot be the judges of our own punishment on this earth And of another world we know nothing It cannot be any one’s destiny to throw away a life while still something may be made of it You would be throwing your life away here That no other woman is possible, or ever can be possible, for me should be a consideration with you, Honora What I ask of you is a sacrifice—will you make me happy?” Her eyes filled with tears “Oh, Peter, do you care so much as that? If—if I could be sure that I were doing it for you! If in spite—of all that has happened to me, I could be doing something for you—!” He stooped and kissed her “You can if you will,” he said ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: Sought to remove comparisons ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE “A MODERN CHRONICLE”: Best way is to leave ‘em alone Don’t dandle ‘em (babies) Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted Comparisons, as Shakespeare said, are odorous Constitutionally honest Conversation was a mockery Every one, man or woman, has the right to happiness Fact should be written like fiction, and fiction like fact Fetters of love Happy the people whose annals are blank in history’s book He has always been too honest to make a great deal of money Her words of comfort were as few as her silent deeds were many How can you talk of things other people have and not want them Immutable love in a changing, heedless, selfish world Intense longing is always followed by disappointment Little better than a gambling place (Stock Exchange) No reason why we should suffer all our lives for a mistake Often in real danger at the moment when they feel most secure Providence is accepted by his beneficiaries as a matter of fact Regarding favourable impressions with profound suspicion Resented the implication of possession Rocks to which one might cling, successful or failing Self-torture is human She had never known the necessity of making friends Sleep! A despised waste of time in childhood So glad to have what other people haven’t Sought to remove comparisons Taking him like daily bread, to be eaten and not thought about That magic word Change The greatest wonders are not at the ends of the earth, but near The days of useless martyrdom are past Thinking that because you have no ideals, other people haven’t Those who walk on ice will slide against their wills Time, the unbribeable Weak coffee and the Protestant religion seemed inseparable Why should I desire what I cannot have *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN CHRONICLE, ALL, BY CHURCHILL *** ************ This file should be named wc45w10.txt or wc45w10.zip ************ Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, wc45w11.txt VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wc45w10a.txt This eBook was produced by David Widger Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US unless a copyright notice is included Thus, we usually do not keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, even years after the official publication date Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month A preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment and editing by those who wish to do so Most people start at our Web sites at: http://gutenberg.net or http://promo.net/pg These Web sites include award-winning information about Project Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!) Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement can get to them as follows, and just download by date This is also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, as it appears in our Newsletters Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work The time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc Our projected audience is one hundred million readers If the value per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 If they reach just 1-2% of the world’s population then the total will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year’s end The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): eBooks Year Month 1 1971 July 10 1991 January 100 1994 January 1000 1997 August 1500 1998 October 2000 1999 December 2500 2000 December 3000 2001 November 4000 2001 October/November 6000 2002 December* 9000 2003 November* 10000 2004 January* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium We need your donations more than ever! As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones that have responded As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state In answer to various questions we have received on this: We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally request donations in all 50 states If your state is not listed and you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, just ask While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to donate International donations are accepted, but we don’t know ANYTHING about how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made deductible, and don’t have the staff to handle it even if there are ways Donations by check or money order may be sent to: Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation PMB 113 1739 University Ave Oxford, MS 38655-4109 Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment method other than by check or money order The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-622154 Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law As fund-raising requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states We need your donations more than ever! You can get up to date donation information online at: http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html *** If you can’t reach Project Gutenberg, you can always email directly to: Michael S Hart Prof Hart will answer or forward your message We would prefer to send you information by email **The Legal Small Print** (Three Pages) ***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** Why is this “Small Print!” statement here? You know: lawyers They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from someone other than us, and even if what’s wrong is not our fault So, among other things, this “Small Print!” statement disclaims most of our liability to you It also tells you how you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to BEFORE! YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept this “Small Print!” statement If you do not, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person you got it from If you received this eBook on a physical medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, is a “public domain” work distributed by Professor Michael S Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association (the “Project”) Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties Special rules, set forth below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook under the “PROJECT GUTENBERG” trademark Please do not use the “PROJECT GUTENBERG” trademark to market any commercial products without permission To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain works Despite these efforts, the Project’s eBooks and any medium they may be on may contain “Defects” Among other things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES But for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described below, [1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that time to the person you received it from If you received it on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement copy If you received it electronically, such person may choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to receive it electronically THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU “AS-IS” NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you may have other legal rights INDEMNITY You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, [2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, or [3] any Defect DISTRIBUTION UNDER “PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm” You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this “Small Print!” and all other references to Project Gutenberg, or: [1] Only give exact copies of it Among other things, this requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the eBook or this “small print!” statement You may however, if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, including any form resulting from conversion by word processing or hypertext software, but only so long as EITHER: [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and does not contain characters other than those intended by the author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may be used to convey punctuation intended by the author, and additional characters may be used to indicate hypertext links; OR [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the program that displays the eBook (as is the case, for instance, with most word processors); OR [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form) [2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this “Small Print!” statement [3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the gross profits you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes If you don’t derive profits, no royalty is due Royalties are payable to “Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation” the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return Please contact us beforehand to let us know your plans and to work out the details WHAT IF YOU WANT TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON’T HAVE TO? Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine readable form The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses Money should be paid to the: “Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: hart@pobox.com [Portions of this eBook’s header and trailer may be reprinted only when distributed free of all fees Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by Michael S Hart Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be they hardware or software or any other related product without express permission.] END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKSVer.02/11/02*END* ... had made them real? And what would Cousin Eleanor’s yard have been without Honora? Whatever there was of romance and folklore in Uncle Tom’s library Honora had extracted at an early age, and with astonishing ease had avoided that which was dry and uninteresting... sidewalks; a sled; humbler gifts from Bridget, Mary Ann, and Catherine, and a wonderful coat, with hat to match, of a certain dark green velvet When Aunt Mary appeared, an hour or so later, Honora was surveying her magnificence in... at such times when Honora was out or tucked away safely in bed Perhaps Honora’s face fell a little Aunt Mary scanned it rather anxiously “Does that cause you to like it any less, Honora?” she asked “Aunt Mary!” exclaimed Honora, in a tone of reproval