London Opening

 

Larkin reading Larkin

 

The Angle

 

Angle Township was designated as territory of the United States because negotiators of the initial Canada–U.S. border misunderstood the geography of the area. Benjamin Franklin and British representatives relied on the Mitchell Map of colonial American geographer John Mitchell, which did not indicate the source of the Mississippi River—thought to lie some distance to the northwest—or the true shape of Lake of the Woods, which was instead shown as roughly oval. The 1783 Treaty of Paris thus stated that the boundary between U.S. territory and the British possessions to the north would run "...through the Lake of the Woods to the northwesternmost point thereof, and from thence on a due west course to the river Mississippi..."

But the source of the Mississippi River, Lake Itasca (then unknown to European explorers), lies almost due south of Lake of the Woods, rather than north and west of it. Additionally, the irregular actual shape of the lake made the identification of its northwest corner difficult. A survey team led by David Thompson in 1824 mapped the lake and found four possibilities, but did not conclusively declare one location. In 1825, a German astronomer in British service, Johann Ludwig Tiarks, surveyed the lake. Tiarks identified two possibilities for the northwesternmost point on the lake, based on Thompson's maps: the Angle Inlet and Rat Portage. To determine which point was the most northwestern, he drew a line from each point in the southwest–northeast direction. If the line intersected the lake at any point, it was not the most northwestern point. Tiarks determined that the only such line that did not intersect the lake was at the edge of a pond on the Angle Inlet. A 1940 academic study documents this point as being in the immediate vicinity of 49°23′51.324″N 95°9′12.20783″W.

In the Anglo-American Convention of 1818, the error regarding the Mississippi River was corrected by having the boundary continue due south from the northwest point of the lake, but only to the 49th parallel and then westward along it. The Webster–Ashburton Treaty of 1842 reaffirmed this border. However, the placement of the northwestern corner and shape of the lake meant that this north–south line cut off a section of U.S. territory to its east, now known as the Northwest Angle.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7b/Mitchell_Map-06full2.jpg

THE WORKS OF ROBERT G. INGERSOLL

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38801/old/orig38801-h/main.htm




The Destroyer Of Weeds, Thistles And Thorns Is A Benefactor, Whether He Soweth Grain Or Not

Philosophical Investigations by Ludwig Wittgenstein

The Summer Wind

Murray Christmas

Kawase Hasui

How Fast Do Armies Move?

https://acoup.blog/2019/10/06/new-acquisitions-how-fast-do-armies-move/


Infantry on the March

The intuitive and a touch clever method is to take normal human walking speed – around 3mph – multiply it by walking hours per day (maybe 8) and go with that. This makes intuitive sense, but if large army logistics made intuitive sense, they wouldn’t be hard, and as Clausewitz says (drink!) “War is very simple, but the simplest thing is very hard.” Logistics is very hard. So why don’t armies move at c. 25 miles per day?

So let’s think about – in very general terms – what needs to happen and in what order for a large body of infantry to march. Everyone wakes up and starts to get moving (probably around 5am). Breakfast need to happen, which may require making fires. Tents need to be struck and stowed along with all of the gear in the baggage train and individual soldiers need to stow their own equipment. All sorts of small tasks add up to eat away parts of the morning. Then everyone needs to get gathered and ready to march.

And now – because you are a large body of infantry, you wait. Let me explain – let’s take a nominally full strength (c. 3,000 men) American civil war brigade, marching on a road 13ft or so wide. You can get five men (a little cramped) into a single row on that road, meaning that the infantry itself stretches 600 ranks deep. Unlike in the movies (which love ultra-compact marching formations because it looks cool) you need a few feet of seperation between rows for best effect (WW2 US Army guidelines specified 2-5 yards), let’s assume each soldier occupies about 5 feet in the marching order. So the infantry is 3,000ft long (914m; nine football fields). We also need unit separation (between the regiments, it’s important to avoid ‘accordioning’ on the march and facilitate control; WW2 army regs suggested 100 yards between companies, 50 yards between platoons, so these could be quite large), so let’s round up to 4,000 ft (1219m; 13 football fields).

But we also have tents, food supplies, spare ammunition and all sorts of other of what the Romans would have called impedimenta (sidenote: if you are thinking, “well, but a pre-gunpowder army doesn’t need this; 1) arrows take up space and 2) camp entrenching supplies – the Romans marched heavy). How many wagons, pack animals or porters you need varies – the Romans seem to have often moved with a mule for every six-to-eight men, plus the army’s siege train. A good rule-of-thumb I’ve seen for American Civil War estimates is around 20 wagons per thousand, so 60 wagons. Rule of thumb in the ACW is 80 wagons to a mile of road, so our wagon train ought to take up around another 4,000ft.

(Sidenote: you can see why logistics gets complicated fast. Even in explaining a rule of thumb, I have to resort to rules of thumb, or else we have to inventory all of the stuff an infantry brigade needs, and all of the food they need and then parcel it out by wagons (and then figure for the mule-or-horse teams for the wagons) and on and on. Fortunately for the historians, this sort of work was done by the armies at the time and written down, so we tend to use their staff-work.)

So the entire force is probably a bit more than 8,000 ft long – 1.5 miles. In practice, there’s actually a lot more space eaten up in separation (between wagons, between men) so it would be longer, but I don’t want to get lost in the details. And this is for just 3,000 infantry – we have no cavalry with their many spare horses (three per man as a typical minimum) or god forbid a siege train which might involve hundreds of wagons.

Here’s the thing: the last man in the line cannot start marching until that entire formation has marched past him. The more men you are sending down the same road, the worse the problem gets. For our single brigade, the wait is probably close to an hour. For an army of – say – 10,000 men, you’re now talking about the last man waiting in the camp while some five miles of army marches past him (that’s about 2-3 hours of waiting). Moreover, the front of the army has to stop where the last man will stop for the night (since the army camps together, because to do otherwise is dangerous). And remember, that last man may have started marching hours after the first man, putting him miles back down the road. So another two or three hours where now the front of the army isn’t moving even though the back is. And worse yet – the entire army is limited to the speed of its slowest element – either waiting for it to move forward in the morning or waiting for it to catch up in the evening.

Well, getting started ate quite a few hours, but at least we’re going to move at a constant speed all day right? Of course not. These are humans – they need to eat (lunch), drink and relieve themselves. Men will fall out of line because they are sick or because they sprained an ankle or because they’re tired of marching and faking it (many army guidelines put the medics at the back of the marching column for this purpose). To add to this, wagons get stuck in the mud, mules and horses get stubborn or lame (that chance may seem low, but remember we’re dealing with thousands of animals – small percentages add up fast when you have a few thousand of something).

For reference on how much time this can eat up, 1950s US Army marching regulations (this is again FM21-18 “Foot Marches”) suggest that “battle groups or smaller” (800 men or less, generally – so small, fast-moving infantry) can “under favorable conditions” (read: good, modern paved roads in good weather) make 15-20 miles in a continuous eight hour march. A forced march – marching longer than 8 hours and at a higher than normal pace – can cover more ground (c. 35 miles in a day in some cases) but such a pace will wear out an infantry force fast.

At the end of the day, the army needs to arrive at its planned camp site long enough to make camp. Cooking needs to be done. Food that was foraged by flanking units needs to get to the camp, be recorded and stored (or processed and eaten) – speaking of which, note that we haven’t even discussed flankers, scouts and foraging parties. Wages may need to be paid, paperwork needs to be done. In many armies, the camp will need to be fortified – the Romans built a wood-palisade fortified camp every night on the march. And then everyone goes to sleep around 9pm. And that, to be clear, is when everything works like clockwork – which it never does.

For a large army, the breaking camp, waiting to begin marching, waiting for the last man to arrive, dealing with pack animals and wagons slices a few hours off of that eight hour march routine. All of which is why a normal large body of infantry moves something closer 8-12 miles per day than the 24 miles (8 hours x 3.1mph) per day implied by Wikipedia’s Average Human Walking Speed.

Historians doing studies of campaigns thus tend to use these sorts of rule-of-thumb speeds without much feeling the need to explain why armies move so slow because I think they expect that most of their readers are either fellow historians or former soldiers and in either case, already know. These rules of thumb, in turn, derive from staff planning in the age when armies still mostly walked to war (especially the 1800s and early 1900s): those staff office planners would have (and presumably still do have) elaborate tables of how many men can move how fast over what sort of roads in what kind of weather – because bad staff work multiplied over massive armies can mean catastrophic logistics and timing failures (see: Frontiers, Battle of the (1914) for examples).

If anything, for a medieval army of conscripts, fresh from a successful battle, with a long supply-train moving off of the main roads, 12 miles per day is actually quite fast. Large armies with lots of wagons often strayed into single-digit marching speeds. And, to be clear, marching speeds are highly variable based on terrain and the rest.

Introducing Grammar

Nadezhda von Meck

Nadezhda von Meck took a great interest in the life of the Moscow Conservatory and the Russian Musical Society, in the course of which she became acquainted with Tchaikovsky's compositions. Their first contact came via Iosif Kotek, who in 1876 asked Tchaikovsky to supply arrangements for his employer's domestic ensemble, in return for a modest fee.

The ensuing correspondence lasted almost fourteen years and comprises several hundred letters. The relationship provided Tchaikovsky with moral support and sincere interest in his artistic career and daily life, as well as a regular financial allowance which freed him to dedicate himself wholly to composition. Besides her fanatical love of music, which she had studied quite thoroughly, her letters to Tchaikovsky reveal her vast knowledge of literature, history, and philosophy, her mastery of foreign languages, and her capacity for appreciating visual arts. The overall impression from their correspondence suggests ethical, spiritual, and mental comparability of both correspondents. Their dialogue in letters was conducted on remarkably equal terms. On Tchaikovsky's part, one finds not the slightest trace of condescension: when he argues with his "best friend" (as he called her), he does so with seriousness and passion; her letters, for their part, do not betray any hint of the social snobbery one might expect from a wealthy patroness. All this makes clear that their communication was one between kindred minds. In spite of the significant erotic component in her attitude, she was quite content with their implicit mutual agreement never to meet under any circumstances. She thought of eros in a sentimental rather than physical sense, and thus her platonic relationship with the great composer must have satisfied her important inner needs.

As a result, this long friendship, despite each of their numerous personal shortcomings (also reflected in their letters), despite the neurasthenia common to them both (and which they both called "misanthropy"), even despite their eventual — and mystifying — estrangement, represents perhaps the most attractive chapter in Tchaikovsky's biography. By her generous financial support, Nadezhda von Meck provided the composer with more than 13 years of comfortable existence (he was able to resign from his professorship at the Moscow Conservatory, hitherto the main source of his income) and made possible his full immersion in creative work. In turn, Tchaikovsky bestowed on her not only his Fourth Symphony, dedicating it to his "best friend," and his confidence, replete with tenderness and gratitude, which filled her with much consolation and pleasure ("a fate against which I am powerless"), but also a sort of immortality: no study or re-creation of his life leaves her unappreciated.

Tchaikovsky and Nadezhda von Meck chose never to meet, even when in 1884 Nadezhda's son Nikolay married Tchaikovsky's niece Anna Davydova.

In 1890 Nadezhda informed Tchaikovsky that she was no longer in a financial position to continue paying his allowance, and that consequently she could not also carry on with their correspondence. This news came as a heavy blow to the composer, even though he was no longer financially dependent on her. It appears that his subsequent letters were returned unanswered, and the reasons for the abrupt end to their correspondence remained a mystery to him. However, a letter written ten years after the composer's death by Nadezhda's son Nikolay explained the circumstances to Nikolay Kashkin:


Recently I saw my sister Yu[liya] K[arlovna] Pachulski and together we relived all the circumstances touching on the cessation of relations between my mother and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. The sole reason for the termination of the subsidy was that for a long period of time my mother's affairs appeared to be in a very bad state, and it then became necessary to significantly reduce her expenditure, including her subsidy to Pyotr Ilyich. By the time it eventually transpired that my mother's affairs had not been ruined, to resume the subsidy would certainly have been impossible.

Turning to the question of the cessation of the relationship between my mother and P. I. Tchaikovsky. The reasons for breaking off this wonderful relationship were twofold. The first was that it had become physically impossible for my mother to continue her correspondence with Pyotr Ilyich owing to a sharp decline in her faculties, following a bout of pneumonia in the winter of 1889-1890; such a serious decline that my mother completely ceased to write to any of her children. This decline may be simply explained by the fact that when my mother was 20 years old [...] she suffered from a sort of pulmonary tuberculosis, and we cannot but wonder whether she had been left with an inflammation of the lungs.

The second reason was purely on moral grounds. Following on from my mother's illness, my older brother then became mortally ill. My mother was so shaken by this illness that to her everything and everyone else became secondary, and she devoted herself to taking care of my brother during his last days. At the same time my mother saw my brother's illness as a divine punishment for her having indulged in correspondence and friendly relations with Pyotr Ilyich, instead of devoting herself wholly to the care and attention of her children. This feeling was not especially strong at first, but it gradually took possession of her; when my wife, at Pyotr Ilyich's request, conveyed to her through me that Pyotr Ilyich had taken the cessation of their friendship very hard, my mother asked me to convey to Pyotr Ilyich that her feelings towards him had not changed at all, but that she did not consider herself entitled to continue any form of relationship, since fate had cruelly punished her because of it, and she considered that to renew the relationship would be an offence to her children. This reply, unfortunately, I received [...] only after Pyotr Ilyich's death.

I consider it necessary to mention that my mother passed from pulmonary tuberculosis, and not from nervous illness, as M. I. Tchaikovsky wrote in his biography.

M. I. Tchaikovsky in writing about the cessation of relations between my mother and Pyotr Ilyich did not approach any of those close to my mother to enquire about the circumstances of this unhappy misunderstanding, which is why I beg leave to inform you of the above account.

Nadezhda von Meck was reported to have been deeply upset by Tchaikovsky's death, and outlived him by only a few months. She died on 14/26 January 1894 in Nice, France, and was buried in the Novo-Alekseyevsky Cemetery in Moscow.

Fine Prints: Japanese, pre-1915

 https://www.loc.gov/collections/japanese-fine-prints-pre-1915/

Distant Worlds 2!!

Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner

Circuit's Edge

 

Naroditsky, Daniel (USA) - Gareyev, Timur (USA) Mate in 7 (from move 28)

THE LOST CHILDREN OF THE ALLEGHENIES AND HOW THEY WERE FOUND THROUGH A DREAM

http://files.usgwarchives.net/pa/cambria/history/local/lost-children.txt

PREFACE. 


     At the solicitation of a number of the older citizens of Blair and Bedford 
counties, (Pa.) I have consented to publish this brief and thrilling narrative. 
The subject is one that does not require the pen of a ready writer to make it 
interesting, but a mere relation of the fact as they occurred I think cannot 
fail to interest all. 
     Children are the most interesting and at the same time the most helpless of 
all God's creatures, so that until they have reached certain years they are 
entirely dependent upon others for food, clothing, and protection. They do not 
have the least knowledge of danger. But in order that they may be protected and 
provided for in their tender years, God has, by the touch of His finger, 
implanted that love that burns in the heart of nearly all parents for their 
children. It was this love that led David in the bitterness of his grief to 
exclaim, "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom; would God I had died for 
thee." A railroad engineer, as his train approached his home that was near the 
road, saw his little three 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

iv     PREFACE.   

year old boy playing on the track. The situation was such that he could save his 
boy by losing his own life. He chose the latter alternative, and was instantly 
killed. 
     In 1874 when the news flashed over the wires that little Charley Ross had 
been kidnapped or stolen from his parents in Philadelphia, this entire continent 
was moved in sympathy for the little boy and his parents and friends. Such was 
the feeling that the name of Charley Ross became a household word in every 
family all over the land. His picture was sent to every part of the country. The 
press freely advertised him and gave the parents every possible assistance to 
find him, while thousands of letters of love and sympathy were written to them 
from every part of the United States and Europe. If half the children in 
Philadelphia had died in a single day it would not have created a greater 
sensation over the country than did the abduction of little Charlie Ross. No one 
can imagine what his parents have suffered. Yet through all these years of 
painful anxiety they have had some hope that their dear lost boy may one day 
find his way back to their home, not as the little boy now, but as a young man 
in all his strength of manhood. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PREFACE.     v 

They imagine that his abductors though fiends in human form, could not find it 
in their hearts to murder their innocent little victim, and that he still lives, 
perhaps in their own city. The parents have spent a fortune trying to find their 
boy, and would willingly spend their lives in the search. And now as he has been 
lost so long they no doubt have given up the search. Still they will live in 
hope that he may yet return. But not so in the case I am about to relate. If the 
narrative of "The Lost Chlidren," was a romance or fictitious story I might 
couch it in entirely different language. But, as every part of it is literally 
true, the reader will pardon me for using as nearly as possible the language of 
those who were present at the time and witnessed the events as I shall relate 
them. The narrative is so sad and touching that even strong men to-day who 
helped to search for the lost children more than thirty years ago, are moved to 
tears while relating the story. 
     To the parents and relatives of "the lost children," and to the hundreds of 
generous hearted neighbors, who are still living, and who spent so many long 
days and wearisome nights in searching for them, this little narrative will 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

vi     PREFACE.   

come home with a touching interest that the strange reader far away from the 
wilds of the Alleghenies may fail to realize. Yet I believe the narrative 
possesses a merit separate and apart from all mere local and personal 
associations. It is hoped therefore that these pages may find many interested 
readers, not from any merit of the writer, but from the truthful and touching 
subject he represents. 


Huntingdon, Pa., June 25th, 1888.     
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


               THE LOST CHILDREN OF THE ALLEGHENIES AND HOW
                     THEY WERE FOUND THROUGH A DREAM.


                                CHAPTER I.

     The traveler going west over the Pennsylvania Railroad, as he approaches 
the Allegheny Mountains some four or five miles west of Altoona, is delighted 
with the wild scenery that meets his gaze. Here he is in the very midst of the 
Allegheny range, where the great barrier begins to break into the numerous spurs 
which lead away in long lines from the interior towards the east.
     The iron steed boldly climbs the mountain on one if these numerous spurs, 
carrying the traveler up by an ascending grade of eighty-four and a half feet to 
the mile, but reduced to seventy-five feet by means of curves.
     At Kittanning Point, the road is carried around a sharp curve which has 
ever since its construction been a wonder of engineering skill. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8     THE LOST CHILDREN   

The art, or science, here must have been put to the sharpest test, and proved 
master of the situation. Two deep ravines had to be crossed, and to accomplish 
this feat, a point of the mountain had to be cut away and the two ravines by 
high embankments brought up to proper grade, then by a sharp horseshoe shaped 
curve, the sides of which are parallel with each other, the train is turned 
around in a moment's time, and on the opposite spur of the mountain has the 
appearance of running directly back to Altoona, the station it had left a few 
minutes before. But after completing the horseshoe bend, the road by use of 
another curve, turns to the right and passes on more directly westward, through 
the great gateway nature has opened for its accommodation, and through the long 
tunnel to Gallitzin. On leaving the horseshoe curve, the traveler is more 
delighted than ever with the wild mountain scenery, The gorge here is much 
deeper than at the horseshoe curve, and as the train carries him along the steep 
mountain side he looks down into the deep ravine some places, almost 
perpendicular, hundreds of feet below him; while another mountain rising 
abruptly on the other side, and running parallel with the one he is on towers 
far above 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OF THE ALLEGHENIES.     9 

his head. Before reaching Gallitzin, the train passes through a long tunnel 
which is three thousand six hundred and twelve feet in length, and securely 
arched throughout. The highest point attained by the Pennsylvania Railroad is at 
the western end of this great tunnel, where the elevation above tidewater is 
twenty-one hundred and sixty-one feet. This summit is known as Allegrippus 
Point. The entire distance over the mountain, is some thirty or thirty-five 
miles. 
     Hundreds of travelers every day between Altoona and Gallitzin are led, not 
only to admire with pleasure this wild mountain scenery, but alike the grand and 
daring engineering skill manifested in so successfully building an iron road 
over this formidable barrier. These scenes are so grand, and so romantic, that 
they never grow old. 
     Some fifteen or twenty miles south of this, in other wilds of the 
Alleghenies is the scene of our narrative. The scenery here is much like that 
described above, only upon a scale more extended. The different hills, cliffs, 
crags, and ravines have been named by old hunters, so that the people living 
near the foot of the mountain understand them. One of the highest points is 
known 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10     THE LOST CHILDREN

as Blue Knob, another Fork Ridge, others Blue Ridge, Cedar Swamps, Kings Cabins, 
Red Ridge, Hogback Ridge, Spruce Hollow, Gypsy Hollow, Bob's Creek, Ciana Run, 
and others. 
     The isolated farms and small improvements that can be seen in different 
parts of this vast mountain range look as if they had wandered away from 
civilization, and (like the children) been lost in the wilderness. 
     Spruce Hollow, is in Bedford county, Pa. From the mouth of this ravine to 
the top of the mountain, or to the settlements on the other side is at least 
fifteen miles, while the forest extends for many miles on either side. Over this 
vast mountain range are numerous rugged peaks and deep hollows, through which 
pass a number of creeks and mountain streams. During the spring months, when 
these streams are swollen by the melting of the snow, they rush down these deep 
ravines on their wild, mysterious errand as though each was trying to outrun its 
fellows in reaching the Juniata River below. And while this part of the mountain 
has numerous high peaks, hills and hollows, much of it is level and covered 
thickly with under growth timber and brush, making it difficult in many places 
to trav- 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OF THE ALLEGHENIES.     11 

el through it. And there is such a sameness about it that old hunters sometimes 
get lost and have trouble to find their way out. 

                               ----------


                               CHAPTER II.
                      How the Children Were Lost.

     Thirty-two years ago there lived in a little cabin, in Spruce Hollow, a 
family by the name of Cox. The family consisted of Samuel Cox, his wife, and two 
little sons. Mr. and Mrs. Cox commenced their early married life in Johnstown, 
Cambria county, Pa., and remained there until their two sons were born, when 
they moved to the State of Indiana, in 1851. But unfortunately for them, they 
settled in a part of the state where malaria fever prevailed, and soon their 
little family was prostrated with the disease, and for weeks and months, they 
lingered between life and death, until for the sake of life and health, they 
were compelled to move back to their native hills in Pennsylvania. Soon after 
returning they settled in this lonely spot in the wilds of the mountain as their 
future home. 
     It is evident that they had no desire to be 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

12     THE LOST CHILDREN   

rich or they would never have selected Spruce Hollow as a place to gain wealth. 
But being naturally of a contented turn of mind it did not require much of this 
world's goods to make them happy. And now that their children were fast gaining 
health from breathing the pure mountain air they felt entirely satisfied with 
their lonely retreat and with the thought that their children might be a 
blessing to them now, and a comfort to them if they should live to declining 
years. With such musings in their minds they felt perfectly happy. 
     But alas! with them, as with all others, how uncertain are all earthly 
enjoyments. Grief and woe unutterable was at their very door, and they knew it 
not. The dark cloud without a silver lining was fast gathering over their heads 
and they had no knowledge of what a single hour would bring forth to them. 
     It was on the 24th day of April, 1856, that Samuel Cox while at breakfast 
heard his dog barking in the woods about one-eighth of a mile from his cabin, 
and, as his dog usually had a squirrel treed when he barked this way, Mr. Cox 
remarked to his wife that if his dog should continue to bark until he was 
through his breakfast 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OF THE ALLEGHENIES.     13 

he would go out and shoot the squirrel. Hastily finishing his meal he shouldered 
his gun and started out in the woods in the direction of his dog, leaving his 
two little boys at the table with their mother. Failing to find the squirrel he 
shortly returned to his cabin by a different route from that he had taken in 
going out. Not seeing the children, he inquired of their mother where they were. 
She had not noticed them after they had gone out from breakfast. As there was 
but little cleared land about their cabin it did not require long to determine 
that they must have undertaken to follow their father to the forest. The parents 
in the wildest alarm ran to the mountain, and taking in as much of it as they 
thought it possible for their children to have reached in so short a time, they 
made the most careful search without finding them. Then they returned to their 
home thinking the children might have come back to their cabin during their 
absence but in this they were sadly disappointed. The parents, now almost 
distracted, made the fact known to their nearest neighbors that their children 
were lost in the wilds of the mountains. The news spread like wild-fire, and 
while many hastened to the mountain to help search for the 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

14     THE LOST CHILDREN   

lost ones, others on foot and on horse, traveled from house to house, and from 
one village to another, carrying the news. Every one that heard it seemed at 
once to comprehend the situation, that whatever was done to find them must be 
done quickly or they would not likely be found at all. With this kindred feeling 
in the minds of nearly all who heard the tidings it is not at all strange that 
plowman unhitched their teams midway in the fields, merchants closed their 
stores, mechanics threw down their tools with their work unfinished, and all, 
with one common purpose, hastened to the mountain, and notwithstanding the day 
was far spent before many of them heard the news, yet so quick were the people 
in their efforts to rescue the little perishing ones, that not less than two 
hundred voices rang along the crags and cliffs of the Allegheny ere the sun had 
set on that day. So thorough was the search that every plane, hill top and 
ravine within a reasonable distance of their home had been carefully gone over 
before dark without finding even a foot print of the lost children. And what 
alarmed the parents still more was, that as night approached it was fast growing 
cold, dark heavy 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OF THE ALLEGHENIES.     15 

clouds were looming up in the north-west, and as it was in the dark of the moon 
everything indicated a dark and stormy night. The father, worn out with exertion 
and grief, plead with his neighbors to continue the search through the night. 
"For how," he thought, "can they possibly live through this dismal night exposed 
to the wild beasts of the mountain, without a shelter to protect them from the 
snow that is fast falling, without a place to lay their weary heads, or a morsel 
of food to strengthen their feeble and exhausted bodies." Willing to do anything 
to comfort the bereaved parents, quite a number remained out all night and kept 
up fires on different points of the mountain, thinking the children might be 
attracted to the lights, while others returned to the home of the parents, if 
possible, to speak words of comfort to them. 
     Grief sometimes reaches a point when friends, though stored with words of 
comfort, do not seem to have the power to express them. So it was in this case. 
The grief of the parents was so great that those who had gone there for the 
express purpose of consoling and comforting them could only look on in silence 
and weep with them. 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

16     THE LOST CHILDREN   

     It is not at all strange that the parents should feel heart-broken at the 
loss of their little boys. They were very innocent, interesting children. 
George, the elder one, seven years old, had dark hair and blue eyes; while 
Joseph, the younger one, aged but five years, had light hair and gray eyes; and, 
owing perhaps to their sickness in the west, they were small for their ages, but 
in cuteness and knowledge, they were far in advance of their years. George was 
remarkably intelligent for one of his age, and always had such a care for his 
younger brother, that when going to and from their play, he nearly always led 
him by the hand and they were so affectionate with one another that they never 
had a quarrel at their play. 


"Young loves, young hopes dancing on morning's cheek,
Gems leaping in the coronet of Love!
So beautiful, so full of life they seemed
As made entire of beams of angels' eyes,
Gay, guileless, sporting, lovely little things!
Playing around the den of sorrow, clad.
In smiles, believing in their fairy hopes,
And thinking man and woman true! All joy,
Happy all day, and happy all the night." 
 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OF THE ALLEGHENIES.     17 

Watch of the Week: Rolex Submariner 2020

 

Plastic Ono Band

 http://plasticonoband.com/

The Definitive Guide to the Doctor Who Theme Music

 https://www.dwtheme.com/

Cyberpunk 2077 is out!

 

Mapping Early Modern Japan as a Multi-State System

 https://www.geocurrents.info/geopolitics/mapping-early-modern-japan-as-a-multi-state-system

https://dtl.macmillan.yale.edu/digital-atlas-tokugawa-japan

Tom Parker - Taipei

 

Tito Gobbi

Warhol - Empire