{"1": {"fulltext": "PR 5488\\n1900", "height": "5068", "width": "2951", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "S.s%/-mrs^\\n^y \u00c2\u00abp v\\n.-flte-. v\\nx* .^VaV", "height": "4764", "width": "2864", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": ".o v^ v^y\\n\u00c2\u00b0o\\n0\u00c2\u00b0\\n*P^\\n4 jiO", "height": "4764", "width": "2864", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4869", "width": "2617", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "4869", "width": "2617", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2615", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "An Object of Pity\\nOR\\nThe Man Haggard\\nBY\\nROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON\\nand five of his friends\\nNEW YORK\\nDODD, MEAD COMPANY\\nJ900", "height": "5043", "width": "2615", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "50040\\nLibrary of Congr\u00c2\u00abM\\n*wj Copies Recfcivto\\nSEP 21 1900\\nCopyright \u00c2\u00abntry\\n44\u00c2\u00bb4- f 4*+\\nSECOND COPY.\\nLM*V*\u00c2\u00ab*J to\\nORDttf DWSIOft,\\nO CT 13 1900\\nCopyright, 1900.\\nBy Dodd, Mead and Company.\\nOne hundred and ten copies printed.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nPAGE\\nPreface 5\\nLady Jersey s Account of Her Visit to the\\nRebel King 9\\nAn Object of Pity; or, The Man Haggard.\\nDedication 15\\nChapter I. Samoa 19\\nChapter II. The Mulled Mystery of\\nMalie 25\\nChapter III. There Was a Sound of\\nRevelry by Night 36\\nChapter IV. Late, Ever Late 52\\nChapter V. Extract from the Diary\\nof a Woman Child... 59\\nEpilogos 61\\nVale Samoa 68", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "Preface*\\nPREFACE.\\nIn the Stevenson Medley Mr. Sidney Colvin\\ncollected some of the more unpretentious work\\nof Robert Louis Stevenson, including some of\\nhis early juvenile productions and those inter-\\nesting fugitive leaflets which he wrote and\\nthe illustrations for which he engraved for his\\nstepson, Lloyd Osborne, to print on his toy\\npress. He did not, however, reprint another\\nof Stevenson s humorous undertakings in lit-\\nerature. We refer to that Ouida romance\\nmentioned in one of the Vailima letters, as fol-\\nlows:\\nThence all together to Vailima, where we\\nread aloud a Ouida Romance we have been\\nsecretly writing; in which Haggard was the\\nhero, and each one of the authors had to draw\\na portrait of him or herself in a Ouida light.\\nLeigh, Lady J., Fanny, R. L. S., Belle and\\nGraham were the authors.\\nAnd in the new Letters as\\nO, my life is the more lively, never fear It\\nhas recently been most amusingly varied by\\na visit from Lady Jersey. I took her over\\nmysteriously (under the pseudonym of my", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "Preface*\\ncousin, Miss Amelia Balfour) to visit Mataafa,\\nour rebel and we had great fun, and wrote\\na Ouida novel on our life here, in which every\\nauthor had to describe himself in the Ouida\\nglamour, and of which for the Jerseys intend\\nprinting it I must let you have a copy.\\nThis romance has never been published,\\nthough it has been twice privately printed.\\nThe first edition, from which it is here re-\\nprinted, is a small sixteenmo, with the title,\\nAn Object of Pity; or, the Man Haggard. The\\ntitle-page says, Imprinted at Amsterdam,\\nbut this is probably only carrying out an old\\ncustom of assigning Amsterdam as the birth-\\nplace of books which, for one reason or an-\\nother, were not openly published. The paper\\non which the book is printed has the water-\\nmark, Hudson Kearns Legal Note Lon-\\ndon S. E., and it was no doubt printed in\\nEngland.\\nThis romance was founded upon fact,\\nhaving been built upon certain events which\\ntook place during the visit of the Countess of\\nJersey and her party there in August, 1892.\\nWhile there, the guest of Mr. Bazett Michael\\nHaggard, the English member of the Land\\nCommission of the Islands and brother of\\nRider Haggard, they conceived the idea of visit-\\ning the rebel king, Mataafa. This visit was\\narranged by Stevenson, who was friendly with\\nthat sovereign, and, indeed, at the time, afraid\\nof being forced by German influence to leave\\nthe country. This visit has been described", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "Preface*\\nby Lady Jersey herself in an article in the\\nNineteenth Century for January, 1893, and by\\nStevenson in a long letter to Colvin, dated\\nFriday night, the (I believe) 18th or 20th\\nAugust or September/ 1892. This date was\\nreally the 19th of August. A note by Lady\\nJersey and two of Stevenson s letters to her\\nreferring to the excursion are printed on pp.\\n260-262, Vol. II. of the new Letters.\\nWhile this visit to Mataafa seems to have\\nbeen the event which induced the associated\\nauthors to write their romance, only one\\nchapter, that by Lady Jersey, deals entirely\\nwith it. The others hinge more or less upon\\nit and relate to other occurrences during her\\nvisit to the islands.\\nBefore reprinting the story which contains\\nLady Jersey s romantic account of her ad-\\nventure we reprint from the Nineteenth Cen-\\ntury article the portion which contains her\\naccount of the trip.\\nThe page numbers affixed to the quotations\\nfrom Vailima Letters and Letters to His Fam-\\nily and Friends refer to the first English\\neditions. The notes indicated thus (1) (2)\\nare Stevenson s own. The others are ours.\\nL. S. L.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "Lady Jersey s Account*\\nLADY JERSEY S ACCOUNT OF HER\\nVISIT TO THE REBEL KING.\\nFROM THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.\\nHaving been duly presented to orthodox\\nroyalty [King Malietoa], we were naturally\\nanxious to invade the camp of Mataafa, com-\\nmonly called the Rebel King. Here, however,\\nneither Commissioner nor Consul could law-\\nfully set foot, nor could the relatives of a\\nBritish Governor be formally introduced to the\\nPretender. A deep-laid scheme, quite faa-\\nSamoa i.e., according to Samoan custom\\nwas promptly concocted. The aid of Mr. Ste-\\nvenson, who is, as is well known, the friend of\\nall parties in the State, was invoked, and he\\nundertook to include my brother and myself\\namong the members of his family who were\\nabout to ride over to Malie and spend a night\\nin the house of the redoubtable chieftain.\\nMembers of the official world were to know\\nnothing about it, lest their consciences should\\noblige them to enter a protest, and we had to\\nassume fictitious names, though on reflection\\nI am not quite sure whom these were intended\\nto deceive, as they were only used and heard\\nby those already in the plot.\\nWe left our temporary home in the afternoon", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "Lady Jersey s Account*\\nof the appointed day, and rode by a circuitous\\nroute to meet Mr. Stevenson s detachment,\\nwho were concealed in a true conspirator s cor-\\nner in a shady lane not far from a ford, after\\ncrossing which we almost immediately found\\nourselves in the enemy s country.\\nThe first intimation that we were approach-\\ning the quasi-royal village came from a man\\nwith several attendants who was beating a\\nkind of wooden drum on the roadside, evi-\\ndently intended as a welcome to our leader,\\nwho is famous among the natives under the\\nmelodious name of Tusitala, the teller of tales.\\nA little further on the whole population came\\nout to meet us with their pretty salutation\\nTalofa, which means a loving greeting.\\nThough the eager inquiries for the lady\\noverheard around gave reason to fear that\\nmy incognita was not a brilliant success, we\\nsturdily carried through our little comedy,\\nand just before sunset rode past the rebel\\nguard, strongly built men in native costume,\\nfor Mataafa has not followed the example of\\nhis cousin and rival by putting his army into\\nregulation attire. He himself wears a white\\ncoat, but adheres to the lava-lava instead of\\ntrousers. He is a fine-looking man, and re-\\nceived us with much dignity, though with\\nmanifest pleasure.\\nOur dinner, which was cooked in an outer\\nbuilding, and served on a table in the back", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "Lady Jersey s Account*\\nii\\npart of the house, consisted of pigeons,\\nchickens, taros and yams; we were supplied\\nwith plates, knives and forks, while Mataafa,\\nwho sat with us, ate with his fingers. As\\nusual in native repasts, neither bread nor salt\\nwas provided, and another supply of cocoa-\\nnut milk was the beverage. After an interval,\\nwhen we had returned to the forepart of the\\napartment, the inevitable kava appeared. This\\nwas felt to be the critical moment, as, though\\nnative politeness had prevented a direct inter-\\nrogation, many fishing questions as to the\\nfamily present had been asked. This was\\nprivate kava, not King s kava, when certain\\nchiefs always take precedence, and we knew\\nthat the cup would be first offered to the guest\\nwho was considered of highest rank. When,\\ntherefore, the cocoanut containing the kava was\\ngiven to me before any of the others present,\\nthe difficulty of keeping our countenances was\\ngreat, and we were thankful that no serious\\nconsequences would attend the penetration of\\nour disguise, as might have befallen a Han-\\noverian spy found in a Jacobite camp in 45.\\nThe scene was really somewhat romantic the\\nmixed company of Europeans and natives\\nseated within the glimmer of a small lamp, the\\ndusky, dark-eyed forms flitting to and fro in\\nthe background, and last, but not least, the\\nfine old talking-man Popo, who when his king\\ndrank shouted in stentorian voice one or more\\nof the royal names The triumph of his\\npledge of Hamlet. Popo is a remarkable", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "Lady Jersey s Account*\\ncharacter; he lived before the days of Chris-\\ntianity, though now he wears round his neck a\\nlittle cross as the symbol of his faith. He is\\nquite unlike the ordinary native, who, how-\\never handsome, has almost always the broad\\nand rather flat cheek-bones of the Malay type;\\nwhile, as Mr. Stevenson records\\nwith an aquiline face designed\\nLike Dante s, he who had worshipped feathers\\nand shells and wood,\\nAs a pillar alone in the desert that points where\\na city stood,\\nSurvived the world that was his, playmates\\nand gods and tongue,\\nFor even the speech of his race had altered\\nsince Pope was young.\\nPreparations for our night s rest were al-\\nready in progress. Generally in a native house\\nall lie down on mats and sleep in the common\\nroom, but Mataafa, having been forewarned of\\nthe arrival of a lady somewhat unaccustomed\\nto Samoan arrangements, had prepared a very\\nlarge tapa curtain, which was now dropped, and\\na portion of the house thereby partitioned off\\nfor Mrs. Strong (Mr. Stevenson s stepdaugh-\\nter) and myself. Behind this curtain a pile\\nof fine mats was laid upon the ground with the\\nfurther luxuries of a pillow apiece, while a\\nmosquito curtain descended over our couch,\\nwhere we soon slept as soundly as on any\\nEnglish bed, rejoicing in the soft, warm\\nclimate, which renders sheets and blankets un-\\nnecessary.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "AN OBJECT OF PITY\\nOR\\nTHE MAN HAGGARD", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n15\\nDEDICATION.\\n[by robert louis stevenson.]\\nLady Ouida\\nMany besides yourself have exulted to col-\\nlect Olympian polysyllables, and to sling ink,\\nnot Wisely but too Well. They are forgot-\\nten, you endure. Many have made it their\\ngoal and object to Exceed; and who else has\\nbeen so Excessive? Many have desired to see\\nthe world otherwise (and, if possible, Larger)\\nthan God made it; and in this ambition none\\nhas been prospered to succeed like the author\\nof Strathmore. It is therefore with a becom-\\ning diffidence that we profit by an unusual cir-\\ncumstance to approach and address you.\\nWe, undersigned, all persons of ability and\\ngood character, were suddenly startled to find\\nourselves walking in broad day in the halls\\nof one of your romances. We looked about us\\nwith embarrassment, we instinctively spoke\\nlow; and you were good enough not to per-\\nceive the intrusion or to affect unconsciousness.\\nBut we were there; we have inhabited your\\ntropical imagination we have lived in the real-\\nity which you had but dreamed of in your\\nstudio. And the Man Haggard above all. The\\nhouse he dwells in was not built by any car-", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "16 An Object of Pity;\\npenter, you wrote it with your pen the friends\\nwith which he has surrounded himself are the\\nmere spirit of your nostrils; and those who\\nlook on at his career are kept in a continual\\ntwitter lest he should fall out of the volume;\\nin which case, I suppose, he must infallibly in-\\njure himself beyond repair: and the characters\\nin the same novel, what would become of\\nthem? And must they not go on pretending\\n(with what countenance they might) that the\\nMan Haggard was there, and had just inter-\\nrupted them? much as Salvini has been seen\\nto do when the ghost of Banquo failed him at\\nthe tryst.\\nThe present volume has been written slav-\\nishly from your own gorgeous but peculiar\\npoint of view. Your touch of complaisance\\nin observation, your genial excess of epithet\\nand the grace of your antiquarian allusions\\nhave been cultivated like the virtues. Could\\nwe do otherwise? When nature and life had\\ncaught the lyre from your burning hands, who\\nwere we to affect a sterner independence? But\\nwhile seeking to borrow tints from that ad-\\nmired palette, we have been careful to respect\\nthe Facts of the Case. As for the characters,\\neach author has been intrusted with his own,\\na certain pledge of sincerity; while all have\\ncontributed emulously to enrich the central\\nfigure of the Man Haggard with the orna-\\nments of truth and soberness. For the in-\\ncidents, it must be owned the Epilogue is still\\nprophetic; but to all acquainted with Norfolk,", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "or, The Man HaggarcL\\n17\\nit will seem highly credible. The King s\\npalace, again, appears to be not quite vera-\\nciously described, and you are recommended\\nnot to rely in practice on the recipe for Kava:\\nit was not a cookery book we had in view.\\nLastly, there is a regrettable incident referred\\nto on p. 45, on which I must trouble you with\\na more particular comment. It is doubtless\\nhighly characteristic of the Man Haggard and\\nthe words attributed to him after the deed\\nwere actually uttered and heard. But of the\\ndeed itself, in spite of an unwarrantable state-\\nment in the text, we have no legal evidence, or\\nnot any which would be accepted by a Nor-\\nfolk jury. And it is only fair to say that\\nnone of those present remarked an occurrence\\nwhich could scarce have passed without at-\\ntracting a measure of attention, and that no\\npersons have since been reported missing in\\nthe city.\\nIn every other particular the volume in your\\nhands is true, and you are to consider whether\\nyour interests have been infringed, what\\nshould be your proper remedy, and before what\\nCourt, and against what defendant you should\\nnow proceed; whether against the Man Hag-\\ngard for a simple trespass, or against his\\nparents, who seem guilty of a flagrant breach\\nof literary good faith and whether the British\\nGovernment, which certainly aided and abetted,\\nand may be said to have held a candle in the\\nbusiness, should not, perhaps, be called a party\\nto the suit.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "1 8 An Object of Pity;\\nWe are, Lady Ouida,\\nYour fond admirers,\\nO le Tamaitai Sili\\n(The Queen Woman), alias Amelia.\\nO le Tapenali\\n(Prince Rupert).\\nO le Fafine Mamana O I le Mauga\\n(The Witch Woman of the Mountain).\\nO Tusitala\\n(The Writer of Tales).\\nO Teuila\\n(The Adorer 1 of the Ugly).\\nO Pelema\\n(Significance unknown; ignotus ipse\\nnomine ignoto), a Globe-trotter.\\nApia, August 2, 1892.\\nEvidently a misprint. This should read\\nadorner. Belle had that day been the al-\\nmoner in a semi-comic distribution of wedding\\nrings and thimbles (bought cheap at an auc-\\ntion) to the whole plantation company, fitting\\na ring on every man s finger and a thimble on\\nboth the women s. This was very much in\\ncharacter with her native name Teuila, the\\nadorner of the ugly.\\nVailima Letters, p. 226.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n19\\nCHAPTER I.\\nSamoa.\\n[by captain leigh.]\\nThe Commission had finished its sitting for\\nthe day, and the Man Haggard, Her Britannic\\nMajesty s Commissioner, strode jauntily away.\\nHe was in high spirits. In the first place, it\\nwas Friday, and the wearisome sittings would\\nnot be resumed till the following Monday; in\\nthe second place, he was beginning to revolve\\nin his mind a visit to the Gibraltar of the Pa-\\ncific the sea-girt island of Apolima. 1 But as\\nin the very harbour of Apia, a placid sea con-\\nceals the most treacherous reefs, so there were\\ndifficulties in his path, which, if he had been\\ncognisant of, might have subdued even his\\nstout heart. Far off, on a long stretch of sand,\\nMr. Firtree, 2 the Chief Justice, watched,\\nthrough his glasses, the long, quick stride of\\n1 Apolima (The Hollow of the Hand a\\nnatural sea-girt fortress, where an impregna-\\nble wall of rock, rising on every side round a\\nverdure-lined crater, leaves one only portal,\\nbarricaded by tumbling surf.\\nLady Jersey.\\n2 Conrad Cedarkrantz, a Swede, the Chief\\nJustice of the islands.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "20\\nAn Object of Pity;\\nthe white-clad hero, and muttered beneath his\\nbreath deep Swedish oaths. Nearer still, the\\nBaron von Pilsener, 1 the President of the\\nCouncil, eyed with a cruel look the figure of\\nthe man whom he feared would thwart his\\ncraftiest schemes of self-aggrandisement, and\\nan attentive bystander would have heard the\\nmystic words, Potztausend, Donner und\\nBlitz! fall from his lips; while from many a\\nGerman store a guttural Ach burst from\\nTeutonic lips. Different, indeed, was the mode\\nof the cunning Jesuits, but none the less vindic-\\ntive. No murmur escaped the lips of the men\\nschooled in the cloisters of Italian monas-\\nteries but none the less they were determined\\nto gain, for Holy Church, the richest lands of\\nthe most lovely island of the Pacific by fair\\nmeans if possible; if not, by fraud.\\nBut ignorant, and therefore heedless of the\\nplots of these various conspirators, the Man\\nHaggard walked boldly on.\\nLet us pause a moment to gaze on the hero\\nof our tale. In the prime of life, he is one\\nwho has seen much and travelled much. Rath-\\ner above than below the middle height, broad-\\nshouldered and deep-chested, with a frank\\nface and a ruddy beard; he is what he looks, a\\nthorough Englishman. In character he is a\\nman of quick determination, loquacious rather\\nthan taciturn; ready to accept with cheerful-\\nness whatever fate may bring him, and to do\\n*Baron Senfft von Pilsach, the President of\\nthe Council.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n21\\nhis duty to the best of his ability a worthy\\nrepresentative of his country s diplomacy in\\nthis southern isle.\\nAnd now, as he wends his way along the\\nbeach, he gazes to the left on the lovely bay\\nof Apia, peacefully sleeping in the calm of a\\nsouthern afternoon, and thinks how different\\nwas its aspect when six great warships went\\nashore in the fearful hurricane of 1889, and\\none man-of-war alone, which bore the meteor\\nflag of England, stood bravely out to sea. On\\nhis right hand lie the houses of the little town\\nof Apia, embowered in the lovely verdure of\\nthe tropics, and beyond them one glorious\\nmass of green foliage, which is only terminated\\nby the outline of a lofty chain of mountains,\\nnow tinged with the declining rays of a setting\\nsun. Good-evening, says a cheery voice, and\\nthe Man Haggard starts from his revery, as\\nDuncombe trots past on his stout bay cob,\\nwhich could well hold his own in Rotten Row\\nor the Bois de Boulogne.\\nThen he comes on a group of Samoan chil-\\ndren, merry, brown-skinned little savages, who\\nlook up from their game of marbles to bid\\nhim a laughing Talofa. 1 Next a pretty half-\\ncaste girl claims a bow of recognition, and\\nthen the British Consul and his wife gallop\\npast, returning from their evening ride.\\nAnd so his walk continues, and he has\\n1 Their pretty salutation Talofa/ which\\nmeans a loving greeting.\\nLady Jersey.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "22 An Object of Pity;\\nnearly reached his own palm-embowered\\nchateau, when his face lights up with more\\nthan its wonted brightness, for he sees walk-\\ning quickly toward him handsome Prince Ru-\\npert, 1 the man who has braved the dangers of\\nthe deep, and, dauntlessly embarking on the\\ndeck of the Lubeck, 2 has steered his course\\nthrough the mazy shoals of the Pacific, straight\\nto the Samoan group the man who has out-\\ncooked Captain Cook, and put Baron Mun-\\nchausen to shame. Lightly knocking the ashes\\noff the end of his scented Cabana, and with\\nthe look in his eyeglass which, if rumour be\\ntrue, broke the heart of the Duchess X.Y.Z.,\\nRupert springs gracefully in the air, and with a\\npanther-like movement lands airily on the\\nMan Haggard s toe. To apologise is the work\\nof one second, to explain the motive, of an-\\nother.\\nPain in your corns, eh says Rupert with\\neasy badinage. I fear you ll find peine de\\nceeur worse. Listen, mon ami, prenez garde,\\nthere is another conspiracy/\\nFor a moment of time the Man Haggard\\nfeels inclined to laugh, a smile ripples across\\nhis features, but the warning look in Rupert s\\neyes, and the deepening frown of his massive\\nforehead, which only adds to the grandeur of\\nhis intense beauty, warns his companion that\\n2 Captain Leigh.\\n2 The Norddeutscher Lloyd steamship on\\nwhich Lady Jersey and her party arrived from\\nSydney.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n23\\nthis is no laughing matter; and with strong,\\nnervous diction he breaks out with a flow of\\nwords, and louder and louder he shouts,\\nshouts, SHOUTS:\\nA conspiracy, and against me I tell you\\nthey dare not do it Who is it Not that ass\\nTee-too-tum; not that I think he s half as\\ngreat an ass as Tee-too-tee, though that s pos-\\nsibly a matter of opinion; though, as for that,\\nI think my opinion is worth much more than\\nany German or Swede out here, though I can t\\nimagine why on earth they sent a Swede, who\\nreally, anyhow for the first few months, didn t\\nknow a word of English; and I really don t\\nthink he s much better now. But German or\\nSwede or American, I advise them to look\\nout. I don t think it is worth taking notice\\nof anything any Samoans might do; and, be-\\nsides, I m quite friendly with the Samoans, or,\\nat least, I don t think I m unfriendly; though,\\nas for that, there s no knowing what they\\nmight do. I ve a couple of Samoan servants\\nnow but then, really, if it wasn t for Abdool 1\\nyou know Abdool he makes them understand,\\nand really they are immensely improved. But\\nI tell you I ve got the Foreign Office at my\\nback; though, of course, now Gladstone s in\\nor at least I suppose he s in not that that will\\nmake much difference, for he can t stop in.\\n1 Abdul. Haggard and the great Abdul, his\\nhigh-caste Indian servant, imported by my\\nwife.\\nVailima Letters, p. 145.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "24 An Object of Pity;\\nYou see if the House of Lords throws out his\\nHome Rule Bill though for that matter he s\\ngot to pass it through the Commons first; and\\nthen, you must remember the Parnellites are\\nsure to go against the anti-Parnellites. Well,\\neven if an abominable Radical Government\\nwon t support me, I m independent, and I ll\\ndefy them. I m the only man absolutely the\\nonly man who s got ten-finger glasses. Did\\nI ever tell you how I got them? Well, you\\nsee, Calcraft you remember Calcraft.\\nYou ll see no more of Calcraft, Rupert\\nbroke in, pointing to the horizon, where the\\nlast rays of the setting sun threw a light on\\nthe fast receding hull, and the black masts of a\\nhome-bound steamer; he s off to England in\\nthe Pate de Fois Gras, our deadliest enemy\\nwill be at home before you. What care I,\\ncried the Man Haggard, good riddance of bad\\nrubbish\\nAs he spoke the sun sank, and a heavy trop-\\nical rain commenced to fall. Was it an omen?\\nBlind puppets of fortune that we are. Could\\nthe Man Haggard but have looked into the fu-\\nture, he would indeed have been appalled. The\\npassenger by the Pate de Fois Gras was the\\nman who held in his hand the fate and future\\nof the owner of the Ten Finger-Glasses.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n25\\nCHAPTER II.\\nThe Mulled Mystery of Malie.\\n[by lady jersey, the extract from the\\nsamoid by robert louis stevenson. 1\\nTwo were the troops that encountered; one\\nfrom the way of the shore,\\nAnd the house where at night, by the timid,\\nthe Judge may be heard to roar,\\nAnd one from the side of the mountain. Now,\\nthese at the trysting spot\\nArrived, and lay in the shade. Nor let their\\nnames be forgot.\\n2 This is Stevenson s account of the adven-\\nture in prose: We left the mail at the\\nP. O., had lunch at the hotel, and about 1.50\\nset out westward to the place of tryst. This\\nwas by a little shrunken brook in a deep chan-\\nnel of mud, on the far side of which, in a\\nthicket of low trees, all full of moths of\\nshadow and butterflies of sun, we lay down to\\nawait her ladyship. Whiskey and water, then\\na sketch of the encampment for which we all\\nposed to Belle, passed off the time until 3.30.\\nThen I could hold on no longer. Thirty min-\\nutes late. Had the secret oozed out? Were\\nthey arrested? I got my horse, crossed the\\nbrook again, and rode hard back to the Vaea\\ncross roads, whence I was aware of white\\nclothes glancing in the other long straight", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "26 An Object of Pity;\\nPelema, the World- Perquester, (i) gaitered,\\nand grave of face,\\nCame first. And dark as the dames of the\\nisle, her sojourning place,\\nShe that adored the Uncomely (2) rode in\\na habit of white,\\nBut pale as the east at dawn her brother rode\\nby her right:\\nHe that was feared by slaves. (3) And Tel-\\nler of Tales was there.\\nAnd clad in the island kilt wijth an island rose\\nin his hair,\\nIina, a chief of Savaii, (4) and only a boy in\\nyears\\nAnd Raphael, 1 he that had charge of the Tel-\\nler s horses and steers.\\nSo these in the shade awaited the hour, and\\nthe hour went by\\nAnd ever they watched the ford of the stream\\nwith an anxious eye;\\nradius of the quadrant. I turned at once to re-\\nturn to the place of tryst but D. overtook me,\\nand almost bore me down, shouting Ride,\\nride F like a hero in a ballad. Lady Margaret\\nand he were only come to shew the place they\\nreturned, and the rest of our party, reinforced\\nby Captain Leigh and Lady Jersey, set out\\nfor Malie. The delay was due to D. s infinite\\nprecautions, leading them up lanes, by back\\nways, and then down again to the beach road\\na hundred yards further on.\\nVailima Letters, pp. 205-6.\\n^afaele. One of Stevenson s servants.\\nLafaele, provost of the cattle.\\nVailima Letters, p. 151.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n27\\nAnd care, in the shade of the grove, consumed\\nthem, a doubtful crew,\\nAs they harboured close from the bands of the\\nMen of Mulinuu.(5)\\nBut the heart of the Teller of Tales at length\\ncould endure no more;\\nHe loosed his steed from the thicket, and\\npassed to the nearer shore,\\nAnd back through the land of his foes, cheer-\\ning his steed, and still\\nScouting for enemies hidden. And, lo! under\\nVaca 1 Hill,\\nAt the crook of the road a clatter of hoofs and\\na glitter of white\\nAnd there came the band from seaward, swift\\nas a pigeon s flight.\\nTwo were but there to return the Judge of\\nthe Titles in Land; (6)\\nHe of the lion s hair, bearded, boisterous, bland\\nAnd the maid that was named for the\\npearl, (7) a maid of another isle.\\nLight as a daisy rode, and gave us the light of\\nher smile\\nBut two to pursue the adventure one that was\\ncalled the Queen, (8)\\nLight as the maid, her daughter, rode with us\\nveiled in green,\\nAnd deep in the cloud of the veil, like a deer s\\nin a woodland place.\\nThe fire of the two dark eyes, in the field of\\nthe unflushed face.\\n\\\\A misprint; should be Vaea Hill.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "28 An Object of Pity;\\nAnd one, her brother, that bore the name of a\\nknight of old, (9)\\nRode at her heels unmoved; and the glass in\\nhis eye was cold.\\nBright is the sun in the brook; bright are the\\nwinter stars;\\nBrighter t^e glass in the eye of that captain of\\nhussars.\\nTusitala s Samoid, 1 Canto XII.\\n(1) Pelema, the globe-trotter. 2\\n)L r ,ias l c w\u00c2\u00bb-- heWi ch\\n(4) The chief name of Henry Simete. 6\\n(5) Fabled monsters, plausibly said to be em-\\nblematic of extinct volcanoes. They were two\\nin number, the name of the one was The Lau-\\nrelled, 7 that of the other The Corked. 8\\n(6) The Man Haggard.\\n(7) The Pearl of Guernsey. See Ch. III.\\n(8) Le Tamaitai Sili. 10\\n(9) Le Tapanali. 11\\n1 Among our other occupations, I did a bit\\nof a supposed epic describing our tryst at the\\nford of the Gase-gase.\\nVailima Letters, p. 213.\\n2 Graham Balfour.\\n3 Mrs. Strong.\\n4 Lloyd Osborne.\\n5 Mrs. R. L. Stevenson.\\n6 Stevenson s Overseer.\\n7 Conrad Cedarkrantz, the Chief Justice.\\n8 Baron von Pilsach.\\nLady Margaret, daughter of Lady Jersey.\\n10 Lady Jersey.\\nCaptain Leigh.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n29\\nYes, Haggard, those sails as they disappear\\non the horizon seem like the wings of depart-\\ning hope The toils are thickening round thee,\\nand as thou standest thinking now of the\\ncrafty Swede, now of the Ten Finger-Glasses,\\nnow of the distant home of thy careless youth\\nnot far from thee a conversation is taking\\nplace which weaves a fresh black strand into\\nthe web of thy future. The interlocutors are\\ntwo in number, but have guile sufficient for a\\nhundred better indeed had a hundred Samoan\\nwarriors vowed vengeance against thee, than\\nthat two such subtle intellects coming in con-\\ntact had struck an electric spark, to cast so\\nlurid a glare upon thy fate. He 1 was of the\\ngenuine Machiavellian type. His keen black\\neyes and aquiline features bespoke the tren-\\nchant spirit which would cut like a knife\\nthrough every combination opposed to his de-\\nsigns nay, it is hinted that not merely the\\nmental, but the substantial dagger would prove\\nno stranger to that guiding brain, should it be\\nrequired to remove a troublesome adversary\\nfrom the path of Tusitala. She 2 was a wan-\\nderer, sprung from no one exactly knew\\nwhere; some said that England, some that\\nScotland, some that Australia was her native\\nland; others did not hesitate to assert that\\nthe somewhat swarthy hue of her thin, eager\\nfeatures was due to an admixture of Indian or\\nEgyptian blood. One thing alone was certain\\n2 Robert Louis Stevenson.\\n2 Lady Jersey.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "An Object of Pity;\\nin whatever part of the world she might make\\na transient apparition, one constant friend was\\never at hand in the hour of need her family-\\nsteed Pedigree. Her great-grandfather was\\nsaid to have seen this noble charger in the\\ndesert of Sahara. It was the last and most\\nvalued possession of an Arab Sheik. Give\\nme that steed, said the ancestor, and I will\\ncast thee a purse of gold. Not I, O Frank\\nsaid the son of the desert, gold does not pur-\\nchase the war-horse of my free forefathers.\\nTake then this ruby aigrette, the colour of\\nblood Nay, rather my life s ruddy stream\\nshall be poured forth This chain of dia-\\nmonds from Golconda Diamonds away\\nwith them, they are like pure water for lack\\nof which I perish. You perish then take\\nthis flask of living crystal from the spring of\\nParnassus, and give me that charger. Ere\\nthe fainting Bedouin could renew his remon-\\nstrance, the proud Frank had wrested the\\nsilken reins from his nerveless grasp, and fling-\\ning him the flask, had galloped into infinity.\\nSince that hour the Arab horse had been an\\nheirloom in the family of Amelia, the Queen\\nWoman, and was now standing at her side.\\nTusitala greeted her with the words, preg-\\nnant with meaning, We have met before,\\nAmelia. On the sunny shores of the Med-\\niterranean? Yes; do you recall the mar-\\nriage of Prince Silence why refer to by-\\ngone years? Is not the present sufficient?\\nand Amelia heaved a sigh, which quickly", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n31\\nchanged into a glance of disdain, as she added,\\nLet feeble minds regret; it is ours to act.\\nMaybe, said Tusitala, with something of a\\nsneer, but how? Do you ask? Does not\\nMalie lie yonder? I must hie thither ere the\\nmoon reaches her first quarter, and you must\\nhelp me. I, Amelia? but are you not\\nhere as the guest of the Man Haggard, and\\nis not he the sworn foe of Malie s chief?\\nWhat matter? Amelia is not accustomed to\\nask twice, nor is Tusitala used to plot and\\nfail.\\nOne instant paused Tusitala. He thought of\\nthe past, when he and the Man Haggard had\\nwandered together on many a coral strand;\\nof the present, when the innocent friend of\\nthose sunny hours was doubtless smoking\\nscented narcotics encased in argent holders of\\nthe future, when compliance with Amelia s\\nrash demand might lead but no intrigue was\\nthe breath of Tusitala s nostrils, and he re-\\nplied: Knowest thou the Ford of Gasi-gasi?\\nAt sunset, two days hence, I will be there.\\nSay what thou wilt to the Man Haggard, but\\nas thou valuest the lives and liberty of all, dis-\\nguise thyself so that none at Malie may know\\nthat thou art the daughter of Peace, pra-\\nter! am I not always disguised? I have sup-\\nported enough of thine haughtiness, retorted\\nTusitala, with an arrogance equal to her own;\\nbut recollect this: if, when the kava bowl at\\nMalie is passed from hand to hand, the Chief\\nnay, I will say it, the Monarch gives it first", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "32 An Object of Pity;\\nto thy lips, the mystery is mulled. The\\nwine is mulled, I suppose you mean/ re-\\nsponded the dame. And with this unique jest\\nthey parted.\\nWhat dusky form glides from the grove of\\nbananas, whose graceful tendrils had twined\\nround the tall palms, forming an impenetrable\\nscreen behind them? Whither does he hie,\\nand what fatal secret does he carry where 1\\nLofty columns of richly carved bread-fruit\\nstems bear aloft the vaulted roof of the Chief\\nof Malie s ancestral hall. Cocoanuts hang in\\nclusters from their capitals, and if any desire\\nto drink they have but to raise a hand and\\npress them to their lips. Piles of soft mats,\\nwoven in the richest hues of the glowing south,\\nlr This is Stevenson s account of the second\\npart of the adventure as related in his letter\\nto Colvin It was agreed that Lady Jersey\\nexisted no more; she was now my cousin,\\nAmelia Balfour. That relative and I headed\\nthe march she is a charming woman, all of us\\nlike her extremely after trial on this some-\\nwhat rude and absurd excursion. And we\\nAmelia d or Miss Balfour d her with great but\\nintermittent fidelity. When we came to the\\nlast village, I sent Henry on ahead to warn\\nthe King of our approach and amend his dis-\\ncretion if that might be. As he left I heard\\nthe villagers asking which zvas the great lady?\\nAnd a little further, at the borders of Malie\\nitself, we found the guard making a music of\\nbugles and conches. Then I knew the game\\nwas up and the secret out.\\nVailima Letters, pp. 206-7.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n33\\ncover the emerald turf; beneath them are piled\\nbeds of rose leaves, so that when the dusky\\nwarriors throw their stalwart forms on the\\nyielding fibres the sweetest fragrance is wafted\\ninto the mellow air of the tropics. Lovely\\ndamsels, reclining at the foot of each couch,\\nwave fans wrought of the feathers of birds\\nof paradise, with handles of sandal-wood and\\nivory. Above, from beam to beam, are sus-\\npended garlands of bougainvillaeas, hibiscus,\\nroses, oleanders and tuberoses, on which are\\nperched the humming-birds, whose plumage\\nflashes like emeralds and rubies in the glare\\nof a thousand torches, held by beautiful boys\\nattired in scarlet lava-lavas elaborately worked\\nin gold, and in pure white tapa turbans, each\\nembroidered with the motto, Faa-Samoa, the\\nancestral war cry of Malie s Chief.\\nA low ivory table is placed in the centre of\\nthe banqueting hall, and around it recline the\\nChief, Tusitala and his clansmen, and one\\nshrouded figure, wreathed in an impenetrable\\nveil, whom he has introduced as My cousin\\nfrom beyond the seas. The Chief of Malie is\\na man of gigantic stature, and of a wild and\\nresolute appearance. Behind him stands the\\nwhite-robed, long-bearded priest of his ancient\\nfaith, who ever and anon, with a sinister glance\\nat the Unknown, bends forward and whispers\\nin the ear of his lord. But neither Tusitala\\nnor the Unknown deign to quail before danger.\\nWhence comes thy cousin? demanded the\\nChief.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "34 An Object of Pity;\\nFrom a far land, from many far lands, I\\nmay say, replied the man of intrigue.\\nYou have been a good friend to me, Tusi-\\ntala, and I gladly welcome the ladies of thy\\nclan, but thou knowest that I have cause to\\ndread the stranger, mutters the Lord of Malie\\nsomewhat beneath his breath.\\nA stranger may bring woe, but a stranger\\nmay also bring weal, interjects the imprudent\\nAmelia.\\nA sardonic smile flits from the face of the\\npriest to that of the Chief. The latter signals\\nBring kava. Kava! Kava! shout the\\nwarriors, and clash their weapons together.\\nKava, kava, sing the crouching maidens,\\nand every bird of paradise plume waves to-\\ngether in the ambrosial air.\\nKava, kava! echo the shrill voices of the\\ntorch bearers, who in rhythmic chorus swing\\ntheir flambeaux on high. The long proces-\\nsion enters as the silken portals are flung\\naside. First twelve beautiful maidens, walk-\\ning three and three the centre one of each\\ntrio bears a branch of roses; from either side\\ndepends a trail of rosebuds, the end of which\\nis upheld by her companions. Then came the\\nold men of the tribe, who have laid aside\\nthe chains of skulls and assegais of their prime\\nto don the long white robes and parchment\\nscrolls of eld. Last march the aspirants to\\nmanhood youths awaiting the ceremony of\\ninitiation each carries one of the ingredients\\nthe fruit of the kava-tree, the spice, the cin-", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n35\\nnamon, the nutmeg, the intoxicating juice of\\nthe banyan all that goes to compound that\\nnectar of the Pacific, the fatally tempting, the\\nmaddening beverage kava.\\nThe maidens range themselves on either\\nside of the Chief s chair of state the elders\\ngroup themselves in the background, the\\nyouths kneel in a circle before him. Then\\ncomes forward the Taupau, the favourite and\\nmost beautiful daughter of the claimant of\\nroyal honours. She bears a massive bowl of\\nsilver, and carrying it to each youth, in turn\\nreceives from him the concomitant which he\\nhas had in charge the kava fruit last; and as\\nthat falls into the costly mixture the whole\\nfroths up into living, enticing amber. Kneel-\\ning reverently before her Father and Lord, the\\nTaupau gives into his hand the chastely em-\\nbossed goblet. All eyes are upon him to see\\nto whom the Chief will first assign the draught\\nof honour. To the First of Warriors To the\\nWisest of the Sages To Tusitala, Leader of\\nthe Allied Clans Nay, he gazes on each of\\nthese and passes him by. He hands the fatal\\nbowl to the shrouded form to Amelia\\nAh, gasps Tusitala, the Mystery is\\nmulled\\n1 After dinner, kava. Lady J. was served\\nbefore me, and the King drank last.\\nVailima Letters, p. 207.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "36 An Object of Pity;\\nCHAPTER III. 1\\nThere was a Sound of Revelry by Night.\\n[by mrs. r. l. stevenson.]\\nSombre clouds with ragged edges blowing\\nback and forth like the fringe of a pall borne\\nthrough wild weather rent the tropical sky.\\nThe leaves of the forest rattled together with\\na sound as of marching armies. Darkness and\\nstorm seemed struggling for the possession\\nof Apolima, that fair isle where it would be\\nno surprise to meet the daughter of Theia and\\nHyperion, she who loved fresh, young life,\\nand with whom surely no youth famed for\\nbeauty, and prowess in war and the chase,\\nwould refuse to drive to immortality behind\\nher four white steeds. It is possible that many\\na strong breast heaved with eager expectation\\nwhen for that emotion there was no occasion,\\nfor the heart of the male is everywhere the\\nWe surmise that this chapter, as well as\\nthe next, refers to the reception at the Land\\nCommissioner s, noted by Stevenson, as fol-\\nlows Tuesday was huge fun a reception at\\nHaggard s. All our party dined there; Lloyd\\nand I, in the absence of Haggard and Leigh,\\nhad to play aide-de-camp and host for about\\ntwenty minutes, and I presented the popula-\\ntion of Apia at random, but (luck helping)\\nwithout one mistake.\\nVailima Letters, pp. 211-12.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n37\\nsame, and sings the self-same song Vanity,\\nVanity.\\nAt least so declared one or two, whose fig-\\nures showed dim against a background of\\ndusky green as they rode slowly and pain-\\nfully down a rugged mountain path that led\\nto the sea. Slowly, because though they in-\\ncessantly urged onward their unwilling horses\\nwith whip and dainty heel, the sagacious ani-\\nmals held back with panting nostrils and quiv-\\nering flanks, as though already they scented\\ndanger; painfully, for now the rain pelted in\\ntorrents, the road had grown well-nigh impas-\\nsable, and the lianas, swinging from the trees,\\nlashed the faces of the two riders like whips.\\nBoth these faces were dark, stained with the\\nblood of a wild people from a far land, till\\nthey vied in hue with the richly adorned sad-\\ndles on which they sat. One, at least, was\\nnot uncomely; hers was the face of a woman-\\nchild but, while her eyes shone with expec-\\ntancy of inexperience, and a smile fluttered on\\nher glad lips, a sinister mark that divided her\\nlow forehead accorded but ill with the joyous\\nexpression natural to her years. This marring\\nline forgotten ancestors had, as it were, im-\\nprinted on her brow, a sign a warning of fate\\nand doom. But all unconscious as the blood-\\nred rose when kissed by the dawn, the young\\nthing sang as she rode. Her horse started,\\nshied and made as though to turn.\\nStrike him said the elder woman 1 sharply.\\n^rs. R. L. Stevenson.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "38 An Object of Pity;\\nStrike when you can, and where you can;\\nstrike first, for the world waits to strike you.\\nBut the girl 1 in answer only warbled gaily\\nthe words of a foolish song, Life is long, let\\nHaggard wait.\\nThe elder woman twitched her bridle vi-\\nciously Time enough, she murmured, time\\nenough; tis but a female thing.\\nInsolent, arrogant, generous and unjust, this\\nwoman was a compound of extremes. One\\nnever knew where to have her she never knew\\nwhere to have herself. Her mind was a tangle\\nof broken threads that nowhere joined, and\\nnot even those who knew her best could guess\\ninto what quagmire she next might drag them\\nfor obedience she exacted as a right, and none\\ncould stay her hand. Some said she had the\\nevil eye; a suspicion fostered by her keen, di-\\nrect glance, like one sighting a pistol, and\\nwhose aim is deadly. And the island people\\nin her service believed she kept an evil spirit\\nwithin call, and could read their thoughts\\nlike an open book.\\nMadame, said one, the stalwart Laefoele,\\nfalling on his knees as he spoke, I think my\\nwife no good. Please, madame, you look my\\nwife s heart. You see good thing, that s all\\nright. You see bad thing, I make devil.\\nYet, despite this outward seeming of pene-\\ntration and resolution, and though she had\\nseen much of mankind in many and strange\\nlands, she knew them no more than they\\n*Mrs. Strong, Mrs. Stevenson s daughter.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n39\\nknew her, but walked in a maze all the days\\nof her life.\\nAnd so, in the gathering darkness, and the\\nrising storm, these two, the woman and the\\nwoman-child, rode on rode on to their doom.\\nThe sea rolled monstrously over the reef that\\nsurrounded the isle like the setting of a gem.\\nNight had closed in black as Erebus, and the\\nspirit of storm moved over the face of the\\ngreat deep. In the firmament of heaven the\\nmighty elements warred tumultuously with the\\nroll of thunder and darting flashes of fire.\\nThrough the blackness and the rush and the\\nroar, soaked with spray and rain, two figures\\ncrept over a precarious wharf built of the\\nwood of the mangrove swamp, the two who\\nhad ridden down the rugged mountain path\\nthe dark woman and the woman-child. At the\\nend of the wharf a boat, tossing in the surf,\\nand manned by tattooed savages, naked but for\\ntheir loin cloths, awaited them.\\nI believe we have still time, muttered a\\nlow, over-sweet voice that had been likened by\\nbeautiful women to melted butter and honey.\\nYou speak like a fool, retorted another\\nvoice of deeper tone and thrilling timbre; we\\nare not in time.\\nThe arm of the dark woman was seized with\\na grip of steel, and she and the woman-child,\\npassed roughly from one to the other, were\\ntossed into the rocking boat beside a sombre\\nfigure, tall, silent and shrouded in an unsea-\\nsonable greatcoat. Whether it was the deafen-", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "4o\\nAn Object of Pity;\\ning noise of the wind and the sea, or that\\ngloomy forebodings sat heavily on all, affecting\\neven the spirits of Teuila, the woman-child,\\nnone spoke except to urge on the savage oars-\\nmen. And it was ever the over-sweet voice\\nthat broke the silence, and always in the wild\\nisland tongue, with words of satire and ridi-\\ncule. Once, indeed, the woman-child ven-\\ntured a vave, vavel (haste, haste) but it\\nwas rather a sigh of impatient fear than a\\nspoken word.\\nHad these boatmen, who bent to their oars\\nwith so languid a grace had they first seen the\\nlight in the days of old Rome, striking their\\nstrong white teeth into the black bread of the\\npeasants, the gourds and the garlic, all the\\nancient superstitions of their ancestors, burned\\ninto them by the scorching sun of the Eternal\\nCity, would have paled their bronzed cheeks\\nand set their quick southern blood leaping in\\ntheir veins with fearful curiosity; for who\\nshould be these rovers of the night but the\\nFatui, the offspring of Fatua, with the pointed\\nears, who whispered horrors into the ears of\\nthose who slept.\\nBut they knew not these strong, brown,\\nyoung men with the tattooed skins of Rome,\\nnor of the gods who once sang and leaped and\\nloved there on her seven hills; nor did the\\ngraceful sweep of their long arms quicken\\none jot for the melodious imprecations hurled\\nupon them by the over-sweet voice. But\\neverything has an end life, hope, even the", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "ot f The Man Haggard*\\n41\\nchapter of a novel; and as two clouds, one\\nfrom the east and one from the west, met with\\nelemental rage in the perturbed arch of\\nheaven, the boat grazed some solid substance,\\nglanced off at a tangent, and was dragged\\nback and held fast while from one to the\\nother again were tossed the dark-browed\\nwoman and the woman-child, like bales of\\nworthless merchandise. No sooner, however,\\nhad their feet touched the stairless pier than\\nthey fled straight onward, like the Erinnyes\\npursuing Orestes. Close behind followed the\\nthree men; the one with the voice that had\\na thrill in it, the one with the voice of but-\\nter and honey, and the silent one, who, now\\nthat he drew himself to his full height, showed,\\neven in the darkness of that tempestuous night,\\na stature unusual and commanding.\\nAll five stopped short within an immense\\nvestibule, where their features showed dimly\\nby the light of an invisible lamp. The two\\nwomankind panted, and tried feminine-wise to\\nsmooth their ruffled locks, at which two of the\\nmen threw to each other a contemptuous\\nsmile; but the third neither smiled nor spoke.\\nNo change passed over his grim, sardonic\\ncountenance.\\nOf the two who smiled, one was dark, the\\nother fair. At first sight the one who was\\ndark 1 presented the aspect of a boy in his\\nteens; the slender figure, tending in repose\\nlike a lily in the summer wind; the sensitive,\\n1 R. L. Stevenson.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "42 An Object of Pity;\\nstartled nostril, the small, narrow head, the\\nbloom on the smooth cheek, the soft, tranquil\\ndark eye all these pertained to youth. But a\\ncloser inspection revealed silver threads in the\\nthinning brown locks, fine lines in the fore-\\nhead, traced by the inexorable hand of time,\\ndeepened, perchance, by the follies of his disso-\\nlute early life. And behind the eyes, so velvet\\nsoft, burned the fires of hell. Let no one, in\\nfancied security, make the mistake of touching\\nthis creature on a sensitive nerve. The droop-\\ning figure springs erect with a tigerish activ-\\nity; from the lips, apparently formed to sing\\nthe praises of fair dames, leaps a torrent of\\nblasphemy and imprecation that might well\\nappall a fish-wife, his terrible voice ringing\\nout like the trump of doom, till strong men\\ncrawl shuddering from his presence to lie for\\ndays on their beds sick and prone, while\\nwomen, shrieking and laughing in delirium, flee\\nuntil they fall in their tracks. The name of\\nthis singular being was Tusitala, the Writer\\nof Tales.\\nThe fair man, 1 he who had exchanged\\nsmiles with this Tusitala, was still young, tall\\nand broad of shoulder. He wore glasses, per-\\nhaps as a disguise, possibly to hide the steely\\nglitter of his hard blue eyes. While Tusitala\\nwas all aquiline, recalling the day of old Rome,\\nwhen the gods were young, the features of the\\nfair man were Greek in their lines, and he\\ncarried his head like Apollo. In the salons of\\n2 Lloyd Osborne.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "of, The Man Haggard*\\n43\\nthe high-born dames twas sometimes whis-\\npered that a woman who had wasted the best\\nyears of her springtime in ministering to the\\ncaprices of Loia, for so he was called, knew\\nwhere to lay her hand upon a picture of a\\ntall, fair lad clothed in naught but the tresses\\nof beautiful women, now lying in their forgot-\\nten graves. The mouth with its clean-cut\\ncurves smiled none the less cynically for that\\nremembrance, nor did the over-sweet voice\\nchange a note, except when whispering in the\\nrosy ears of a woman-child.\\nThe third man of this curious party, 1 the\\nsilent one, bore some indefinable likeness to\\nTusitala. It was rumoured that they were\\nbound together by the ties of kinship. Be that\\nas it may, besides this shadowy resemblance\\nthere was little in common between their char-\\nacters, with the exception of a certain vol-\\ncanic violence of temper, in Tusitala masked\\nby the boyish smoothness of his cheeks and\\nthe peculiar softness of his gazelle-like eyes.\\nPelema, for that was the present pseudonym of\\nthe tall, silent man, had not been so favoured\\nby nature. In his deep-set eyes suspicion\\nlurked, and in each haughty nostril was in-\\ndented a signal mark that said, Ware dan-\\nger His enemies likened him to a Tas-\\nmanian devil, the ferocious beast that holds\\non to its adversary even after death, and\\nwhose very teeth, once they are set in the\\nquivering flesh, must be cut out with knives.\\nx Graham Balfour.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "The arched vestibule, where these five sin-\\ngularly assorted persons waited, was damp and\\nchill, with mouldering tiles underfoot, and en-\\nclosed within heavily barred iron gates, whence\\nfat spiders swung and wove their snares un-\\nafraid. The house itself, though not old as\\nyears are counted, through long untenancy and\\nneglect had fallen into ruinous decay, and the\\nair from its chambers struck cold to the vitals\\nlike a breath from the grave. Along an upper\\nbalcony, at the front, a row of coloured lamps\\nswung to and fro, dashed about by the violence\\nof a rushing wind. Fisher-folk, far at sea, bat-\\ntling for their lives in that wild weather,\\ncrossed themselves at the sight, and whispered\\none to the other, the bale fires are burning.\\nOn either side of the vestibule, and stretching\\nindefinitely in the rear of the great building,\\nwere vast chambers, one leading into the other,\\nblack, empty, silent. Vague memories of the\\ncatacombs of old Rome, and half-formed in-\\ntuitions of terrible deeds there perpetrated by\\nher forefathers, mingled with strangely sweet\\nand wholly false dreams of the future, stirred\\nthe dormant heart of Teuila, the woman-child.\\nShe pressed closer to the side of the dark\\nwoman, who repulsed her with an almost sav-\\nage gesture.\\nIt was seemingly the over-sweet voice of\\nLoia 1 that broke the silence with an intimation\\nthat time was passing and life was short. But\\nthe words came not from the curved lips of\\n^loyd Osborne.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "otf The Man Haggard*\\n45\\nLoia, but from the stern, set mouth of him who\\nhad hitherto wrapped himself in an ominous\\nsilence like a cloak of sables.\\nWith one accord, all moved through a sort of\\nantechamber, and up a flight of steep and nar-\\nrow stairs which debouched into a great salon,\\ngay with lights and colours, and heavy with\\nthe perfume of tropical flowers that wreathed\\nbut hid not the crumbling walls.\\nSlender, agile Indians, narrow-eyed, and\\nfooting it like cats, appeared and disappeared\\ncontinually, probably through secret doors, un-\\ntil the head swam and grew giddy with a sense\\nof misplaced movement. Through them stalked\\nhe who was known as the Man Haggard, eager\\nto welcome his apparently unexpected guests.\\nAs he advanced through the long room, with a\\ncasual movement of his hand (aptly described\\nin the language of the novelist as a hand of\\nsteel in a glove of velvet) he lightly twisted\\nthe necks of a couple of crouching menials,\\nlaughing gaily the while, as a boy might laugh\\nwhen pulling off the legs of a cockchafer, cruel\\nonly in its absolute faun-like thoughtless-\\nness.\\nAbdul, remove the debris, (i) was his only\\n(i) The writer has conscientiously striven\\nafter historical accuracy in every detail of the\\nscene here described, which was admitted to\\nthe pages of this work only after the testimony\\nof an eye-witness, who took a solemn oath that\\nthese are the exact words that fell from Hag-\\ngard s lips.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "4 6\\nAn Object of Pity;\\nreference to the subject, as he held out both\\nhands to the group at the head of the stairs.\\nIn a far corner of the salon the pale face and\\ndilating eyes of a woman-child alone took\\nnote of the writhing forms that were instantly\\ndragged out of sight by obsequious minions.\\nIn the halls of Haggard, this young, unsullied\\nsoul was known as Lady Margaret fair, pale\\nMargaret.\\nBut not even the merriest sallies of the brill-\\niant Haggard, the wittiest man of his day,\\ncould dispel the gloom that had entered those\\ndazzling halls with the five mysterious strang-\\ners who came unannounced with the storm\\nand the darkness. Once only the woman-child\\nTeuila, drumming with her small, brown fin-\\ngers on the window pane, sang with eldritch\\nglee a line of a song learned from her deep-\\nbosomed nurse on the arid plains of the\\nCampagna, Time seems long when dinner\\nwaits. Pelema s strong hand opened and\\nshut with a convulsive movement, and she\\nsang no more.\\nThe awkwardness of the situation was saved\\nby a summons to a banquet spread at one end\\nof the first of the suite of salons. Thither\\nthe Man Haggard led his guests; at his right\\nhe placed a regal dame, haughty, pale, with\\neyes of midnight hue, and on his left the\\ndark stranger the weird woman who had rid-\\nden down the mountain path. Soup was served\\nby hordes of trembling Orientals. As the\\nwoman of the mountain languidly raised the", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n47\\nfirst spoonful to her lips, 1 she caught an enig-\\nmatical glance from the dark eyes on the right\\nof Haggard. She paused both paused and\\nsomething of the nature of a challenge passed.\\nIf you dare, I dare! each seemed to say.\\nBut this incident bore no fruit, passing like an\\nidle breath on a pane of glass.\\nNor did anything further of note take place\\ntill near the end of the banquet, with one\\ntrifling exception, which did not escape the\\nwatchful eye of Pelema. Again and again the\\nwitch woman put forth a brown hand to re-\\nceive an offered goblet of sparkling wine.\\nAgain and again her fingers closed on empty\\nair, and the cup, as it were, was dashed from\\nher lips. For a while she sat motionless,\\nthen, with a lithe, backward movement, she\\nclutched the shrinking arm of a passing\\nOriental.\\nAbdul, she hissed in his ear, do you re-\\nmember that morning when, for three days and\\nnights, nor food nor water had passed your\\nlips? And who was it that crept to your side\\nx This note on another dinner at the Land\\nCommissioner s may explain these allusions\\nWe went to Haggard s. There we had\\nto wait the most unconscionable time for din-\\nner. I do not wish to speak lightly of the\\nAmanuensis, who is unavoidably present, but\\nI may at least say for myself that I was as\\ncross as two sticks. Dinner came at last, we\\nhad the tinned soup which is usually the piece\\nde resistance in the halls of Haggard, and we\\npitched into it.\\nVailima Letters, pp. 227-8.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "48 An Object of Pity;\\nand pressed a fragrant gourd to your fainting\\nlips? Abdul, in the name of Mahomet, I com-\\nmand you to fetch me a glass of wine.\\nShe was obeyed with stealthy celerity; but\\nthe malevolent gaze of Pelema was upon her;\\nthe import of a scene, noted by no one else,\\nwas not lost on him.\\nHaggard, meanwhile, sitting at the head of\\nhis table, dropping jests like diamonds, now\\nwith a quotation from the classics, now with\\na running fire of compliments in French\\nwhich he spoke like a native of old Gaul was\\na figure to wonder at, to admire, to reverence,\\nperchance to love. His life had been one long\\nromance, and at love he laughed as Cupid is\\nsaid to laugh at locksmiths. At those shapely\\nfeet that it was his sometime whim to drape in\\nsilken garments of the far East, with fanciful\\nadditions of his own invention, Princesses had\\nknelt and pled in vain. His very boatmen\\ntold of a lady of high degree, who, after many\\nfruitless attempts to speak with him alone,\\nfollowed him to his boat, and there publicly\\noffered him herself, her fortune, her rank, her\\nretainers, all that she held dear. With the\\ncareless boyish laugh that was part of his\\ncharm for women, he kissed his hand and\\nskimmed away over the blue sea like a bird on\\nthe wing. Here and there, scattered about\\nwithout thought, were souvenirs of his count-\\nless unsought conquests. And the slim, brown\\nboys, who waited in his antechamber, chucking\\npennies for pastime, might, had they wished it,", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n49\\nhave had women s hearts instead for their\\ngame. And many a wild female thing had\\nblossomed under the sunshine of his pres-\\nence, but to droop again, and die unseen and\\nunheeded.\\nOne at the table, and that not a feminine\\ncreature, seemed to quail before him. It was\\nthe tall, fair youth called Loia, who seemed to\\nexperience an electric thrill when those eagle\\norbs roved past him.\\nI have a paper to read, said Haggard sud-\\ndenly. From his breast he drew a scroll of\\nscented parchment, which, on being opened,\\nproved to be a legal document; but though he\\nread it with the debonnaire manner of one who\\npossessed entire knowledge of all law, human\\nand divine, the technicalities of the paper\\nseemed not fully understood by any of those\\npresent, with the exception of Tusitala and\\nPelema, the latter for the first time showing\\na gleam of mirth. But it was demoniacal mer-\\nriment that cast a chill over the table.\\nLoia drew together the Greek curve of his\\nlips, flushed, paled, and then, throwing up his\\nhead, to the consternation of the company,\\nburst into loud song. Each looked at his\\nneighbour in wonder, and a blank silence fell\\non all. One by one the other guests recovered\\ntheir composure, and there was a faint mur-\\nmur of applause, dominated by what appeared\\nto be a hiss from Haggard. In verity, he\\nonly cried Bis-bis! At this the company\\narose with one accord and wandered singly,", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "50 An Object of Pity;\\nor in depressed pairs, through the great\\nrooms.\\nThe strain was relieved by the chirrup of\\nvoices in the vestibule. Strangers poured up\\nthe narrow stairs, inundating two of the great\\nchambers. Lady Guernsey, tall, and most\\ndivinely fair, threw herself, with an abandon-\\nment of serpent-like grace, into a hastily im-\\nprovised throne. Who this lady really was is\\na secret that will die with Haggard. Some\\nhumbly addressed her as queen, some as her\\nladyship, while others called her familiarly by\\nthe name of Amelia, which, so much is cer-\\ntain, was never inscribed on her baptismal reg-\\nister.\\nAnd ever through the throng, like one dis-\\ntraught, the Pearl of Guernsey, Lady Mar-\\ngaret, moved, but one question on her pale,\\nproud, young lips, Where is Lady Villiers?\\nAt the pathos of the words bearded men turned\\naside to hide their tears, for who in that vast\\nmansion could answer the question so artlessly\\nput, Where is Lady Villiers?\\nAs the mower sweeps with his scythe grain,\\nand blossom, and chaff with one movement of\\nhis brawny arm, so the babble of voices wa-\\nvered and fell. Something that was like the\\nblare of trumpets, yet soundless, shook and\\nsilenced that multitude. Tusitala rose to his\\nfeet with a countenance livid as death, and an\\nexpression of envy, malice and hatred that was", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n51\\nhellish to see. Loia gave one cry of agony and\\nfell fainting into the arms of Belle Decker. As\\nto Pelema, it would require a pen dipped in\\nblood and gall and vengeance and the blackness\\nof despair to describe the swift and awful\\nchange that passed over his face. For there, in\\nthe doorway, in a full blaze of light, where all\\nmight see who chose to look, Prince Rupert\\nstood!", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "52 An Object of Pity;\\nCHAPTER IV.\\nLate, ever Late/\\n[by robert louis stevenson.]\\nThat was a strange house, fit for a strange\\ninhabitant. 1 The ground on which it stood was\\nlow. A tremor and a great voice of the sea\\nfilled it day and night. Mouldering gardens,\\nfrom which the luxuriance of a tropic flora\\nhad now almost effaced the artifice of man,\\ncame close to its walls, and were studded\\nwith lone pavilions, and browsed by costly\\nsteeds. Lights passed amid the thickets lights\\nturn red faintly in the pavilions; in the upper\\nstory shone the lamps and lantern of the high\\nfestival in all the lower chambers tapers of\\nvigilant myrmidons streamed between substan-\\ntial gratings. For the place was barred with\\nsteel, like the heart of him who dwelt there.\\n1 Haggard s rooms are in a strange old\\nbuilding old for Samoa and has the effect\\nof the antique like some strange monastery;\\nI would tell you more of it, but I think Fm\\ngoing to use it in a tale. The annexe close by\\nhad its door sealed poor Dowdney lost at sea\\nin a schooner. The place is haunted. The\\nvast empty sheds, the empty store, the airless,\\nhot, long, low rooms, the claps of wind that\\nset everything flying a strange, uncanny house\\nto spend Christmas in.\\nVailima Letters, p. 128.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggar d.\\n53\\nAy, it was a fit home for him: semi-royal,\\nsinister, senescent strong enough, in a military\\npoint of view, to bear the onset of besieging\\nbattalions, and yet tottering to its fall. Bees\\nnested in the beams. By night strange tropic\\nthings poured forth and obscured the bright\\nlamps and blotted the rare napery, so that, at\\ntimes, even the Man Haggard would leap in\\na horror from his festival, and roar until the\\ncaverned peninsula trembled and re-echoed to\\nits bowels, and the pale guests and the obse-\\nquious alien servants crowded to appease his\\nfury. Costly works of art and deadly instru-\\nments of war hung together from the walls;\\ncostly and humble gewgaws lay heaped in\\nbarbaric incongruity upon the tables; and at\\ntimes, while the Man Haggard strode in his\\nlong, unsteady halls, and berated his accom-\\nplices, and gave to those weighty despatches,\\nover which ministers grew pale, the thunder\\nof his voice, then would burn at his side, as it\\nburned in the boudoir of the dissolute hetaira,\\nas in the retiring room of the luxurious Hus-\\nsar, that rare, that almost priceless perfume,\\nRuban de Bruges. Ay, they were well met, the\\nstrange house and its singular denizen, they\\nwere well met.\\nThe guests were assembled, the Queen-\\nwoman she who was nameless, but who\\nthroned it there like any Berenice or Semira-\\nmis of the old glad days, when the world s eyes\\nwere young and the kids danced among the\\ncapers to the flutes of Pan the Queen-woman", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "54 An Object of Pity;\\nsat in her chair, calm of face, but trouble ate\\ninto her heart. For there was one wanting.\\nThe dark witch of the mountains stole with\\nsmall steps, peered with swift, dark, uneasy\\neyes, but peered in vain. Still there was one\\nwanting. In vain Prince Rupert obliterated all\\nexpression from his face and veiled an anxious\\nglance behind a shining eyeglass; in vain\\nhe gathered admiration from all women, and\\nenvy from all men; he, too, felt the omen and\\nquailed in his gold lace. And he of the name\\nwhich brought a light to the eye of the Cana-\\ndian book-agent, and a flush to the cheek of the\\nChicago pirate he who had earned fame only\\nto despise it, luxury only to discard it who\\nhad fled from the splendours of a suburban\\nresidence to toss in the rude trading schooner\\namong unchartered reefs 1 who had left the\\nsaturnalian pleasures of the Athenaeum to be-\\ncome a dweller in the bush, and the councillor\\nof rebel sovereigns, crouching at night with\\nthem about the draughty lamp on the bare\\ncabin floor whose pen was of gold, and his\\nbed a mat upon a chest, who loved but three\\nthings, women, adventure, art and art the\\nleast of these three, and, as men whispered,\\nadventure the most was he, even he, at ease?\\nI trow not. His slender fingers plucked at his\\nlong moustache; his dark eyes glittered in his\\nnarrow, sanguine face; in his mind the mind\\nW misprint, evidently. It should be un-\\ncharted.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n55\\nof a poet the oaths of stevedores and coal-\\nporters hurtled. 1\\nBut there were of those who knew and\\nmeanwhile the ruck of the invited thronged\\nwith precaution on the tottering floors. The\\nhouse was doomed; report ran openly in the\\nisland capital that it must fall perhaps noth-\\ning but the fame of the Queen-woman could\\nhave gathered so great a company under its\\nmenaced roof. And as the wind beat upon its\\nwalls and deluged it with volleys of stage\\nrain, and the beams throbbed with that multi-\\ntudinous footing, one looked to another with\\na haggard surmise, and the speech on their\\npale, silent faces syllabled a common fear\\nWill it fall to-night? Outside, in the nar-\\nrow harbour, under the darkness of the night\\nand storm, huge warships tossed with their\\nponderous armament; yet these were safe, and\\nthat throng of many races, treading the long\\nhalls of the Man Haggard, knew themselves in\\ndanger. In vain the lamps shone many col-\\noured; in vain the banners drooped and the\\npalms arched on the gorgeous walls. Heart\\nspoke to heart, and their speech was of fear.\\nOne thought was in the mind of white and\\nbrown of the hardy American of the lissom\\nHindu of the Teuton, bearded and bald of\\nthe islander, barefoot even in that gay place,\\nand robed in white like a sun-priest of the old,\\nglad days, when the world s eyes were young,\\n1 My description of myself should, I think,\\namuse you. Letters, Vol. II., p. 264.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "56 An Object of Pity;\\nand the gods, etc. of the gilt and glazed Hus-\\nsar, inured to the thunder of the squadrons;\\nof the captain of great ships, deafened with the\\nbellowing of his guns for all these were\\ncrowded in the halls of the Man Haggard, and\\nall walked with bated breath.\\nAy, they feared that! the innocent, the un-\\ncunning that material fear spoke loud to all\\nthe most ignorant espied, under the flowers\\nand palms, the blackness of the pit. The tale\\nis old; old as the days when the rude Mace-\\ndonian peasant, bursting his way across Thes-\\nsalian thickets, saw, and knew and thrilled at\\nthe sight of old Evoe and Dyonisius, of Heli-\\nkarnassos dancing, their godheads laid aside\\nby the triumphal amphorae, on the white fields\\nof thyme, and under the flowering boughs of\\nLuchriamachristi. So was it with the guests\\nof Belshazzar and the minions of Sardan-\\napalus. The material peril ay, they could see\\nthat; but it was only the few that spied the\\ndarker omen and could read the minatory\\nscript upon the wall. There was the strength,\\nthe wisdom, the youth, wealth and beauty of\\nthe islands, crowded in the halls of the Man\\nHaggard, swinging as they were with the as-\\nsault of tempest; thronged as were their cel-\\nlars with treacherous, alien slaves and the\\nMan Haggard was not there among his guests.\\nWhere was he?\\nIn the extreme rear of his domain, far from\\nthe coloured lamps and the stringed music,\\nthe man had his dwelling in a cabin of painted", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n57\\nwood. A stranger (had he dared) might have\\nwandered for days in that rich, decaying pleas-\\nance, and perhaps not remarked the Dwelling\\nof the Master. But the way to its door was\\nknown by the costly steed that loved to fol-\\nlow and fondle him, and the wild dove that\\nknew and waited for his coming. It was known\\nby the cringing messengers that stole there all\\nday long, the bearers of letters. For it was\\nhere that he received, here that he answered\\nthem, without a book, without a Peerage,\\ntrusting in the resources of his brain. And\\nwhen the ready pen had done its work he\\nwould call for wine, and laugh aloud with that\\nlaugh of his that was noisy as a boy s and\\ncruel as a woman s. Outside and in the cabin\\nwas to match. A female thing, a maid, a\\nnymph of Dian, might fitly have bestowed her\\nnarrow limbs in that plain sleeping place. A\\nvessel (rude as a mere consul s) served him\\nfor the toilet. Save for the manly shaving-\\nstick, and a chest that contained a few memo-\\nrials of more innocent years, the singular\\nchamber might be best described as empty.\\nAnd it was in such surroundings that he fitted\\nto his powerful shoulders a coat that was\\nheavy with gold, and was the gift of an Em-\\npress. Ay, an Empress gave it him; but did\\nshe know all?\\nHe stood a moment in the almost royal\\npomp of his attire. It was otherwise in Nor-\\nfolk, happy Norfolk, Land of Story, he\\nsighed.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "58 An Object of Pity;\\nBut the weakness in that stern soul en-\\ndured but for the instant. He turned, he\\npassed forth into the night and tempest; and\\nbowing his lion crest against the onset of the\\nsqualls, moved toward the lights and the\\nmusic.\\nLate ever late/ he murmured.\\nScarce a moment more, and in the eyes of his\\nsurprised and fascinated guests, the Man Hag-\\ngard stood and glittered on the threshold, a\\nhollow smile on his face, a scornful excuse\\nupon his tongue.\\nAt last, breathed the Queen-woman.\\nAnd the ruddy face of Tusitala paled with\\nthe exquisite relief.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n59\\nCHAPTER V.\\nExtract from the Diary of a Woman Child.\\n[BY MRS. STRONG.]\\nI am a simple, child-like creature, though\\nmy years are more than you would suppose,\\njudging from my rounded cheek and innocent\\nparti-coloured eye. I love nature and with\\nmy pet bird, white as snow, and a thing of ter-\\nror to all but me, who have tamed her savage\\nnature by my gentle wiles I love to wander\\nby the brookside and babble to the listening\\ntrees, and twining garlands in my flowing hair,\\ngaze upon the sweet reflection in the water.\\nI live upon the mountain-side, far from the\\nwild, mad world; strange are my companions,\\nand greatly feared, even perhaps disliked by\\nthe inhabitants of that island village clustered\\nupon the sea-girt shore. The mind of the\\ngreat poet, known to the gentle island people\\nas Tusitala, unbends to my innocent prattle.\\nMy stern, haughty brother, 1 cold as steel and\\nhard of heart as my own home-made bread,\\neven he deigns to call me Little Sister and\\nThe Sunshine of the House. That strange\\n^loyd Osborne.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "6o An Object of Pity;\\ndark woman 1 she of the evil eye, who rules\\nsupreme within the walls of our mountain\\ndemesne, whose lightest word is a command,\\nwhose flitting form, clad in flowing garments\\nof electric blue, strikes terror to the hearts\\nof idling men upon the wide plantation; she\\nwhom I call by the sacred name of Folly,\\nhas been known to give me her cheek to kiss.\\nThere is a stranger here one who has come\\nfrom far across the blue sea. I call him, in my\\nartless way, Pelema. 2 He is tall and fair, and\\nsometimes, even at the breakfast hour, his calm\\nface lights up with a sweet, shy smile when\\nI and the omelette appear.\\nI cannot tell of the banquet at the Man\\nHaggard s; the fair lady 3 whose form is like a\\nbending lily, whose smile is gracious as the\\ndawn, has been described by abler hands than\\nmine. Looking back upon that gay scene in\\nthe dear dead days, my simple mind is in a\\nwhirl but, alas my tender heart retains the\\nimage of an Officer of Hussars languid as the\\nsun at noon, and glowing like the burnished\\ndome of Nebraska city.\\nHe spoke to me but a moment; for one\\nprecious heart-throb I basked in the scintilla-\\ntion of his eyeglass. But how could I foolishly\\nhope to keep him by my side, for she was\\nthere. With one toss of her yellow curls she\\nlured him to her side may Heaven forgive\\nthee, Bella Decker\\nx Mrs. Stevenson, R. L. Stevenson s mother.\\n2 Graham Balfour. 3 Lady Jersey.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n61\\nEpilogos.\\n[by graham balfour.]\\nFar, far away from torrid zones and dusky\\nraces, no more beneath the flaming constella-\\ntions of meridian skies, no more beneath the\\nmidnight heavens, lurid with the splendours of\\nthe Southern Cross, but in the chill gloom of\\nan English evening, draws this history of\\nbeauty and bravery to its close. It is Christ-\\nmas night, and the gloom is deep, for this side\\nof England is that which lies nearest to the\\ngateways of the day on it the sun god first\\nlavishes his orient splendours, and from it he\\nfirst withdraws his failing rays. The dense\\nmist and icy cold would have struck terror into\\nthe heart of any child of the south; right\\ngladly would he have turned to that side of\\nthe landscape where, glowing in the darkness,\\nrose tier above tier the brilliantly lighted\\nwindows of a lordly mansion.\\nThere, within the dark walls, lined with the\\noaks whose acorns now furnished forth the\\nstately groves that covered the surrounding\\npark, in the warm rays of the Yule log, all\\nthat Norfolk holds of grace and chivalry, of\\ndignity and birth, of strength and genius,\\nwas met to do honour to the aged Master of", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "62 An Object of Pity;\\nthose halls. Scarce a family of the true aris-\\ntocracy of England lacked its fitting representa-\\ntive: all were there. The Montmorencis and\\nthe Vavasours, the De Jonghs and Spreckels-\\nvilles, the Longuebows and the Mirabels, those\\nin whose veins ran the bluest ichor of the race,\\nthe azure flood which had encarnadined the\\nfields of Hastings and Poictiers, of Crecy and\\nFlodden. None were wanting. There were the\\ngenerals, foremost in ten thousand fights; the\\nstatesmen, first in council and in daring not the\\nblatant demagogues of honeyed tongues, who\\nlie and cozen and cheat the many-headed mob\\nin its vile dens, but the men of lofty birth and\\nbreeding, pur sang et sans reproche, the men\\nborn to threaten and command.\\nNot one was wanting. They were there, the\\nCardinal Archbishops of the old faith, eloquent\\npriests and fiery martyrs. They were there,\\nthe Lord Chancellors, skilled draughtsmen,\\nlearned conveyancers, stern prosecutors, elo-\\nquent counsel, the flower of the Norfolk cir-\\ncuit. They were there, essayists, philosophers,\\npoets, seers, who tossed off epics ere they had\\nbreakfasted, lulled you to sleep with golden\\nnumbers of a dream of life, sweeter than ever\\nmurmured through the groves of Academe,\\nmore glowing than ever flashed from the ear-\\nnest lips of the ascetic of Samosata, and who\\nroused you again by their deep voices trolling\\nsome hastily improvised Greek choriambic\\nworthy of the lips of Sappho, or some Mah-\\nratta battle song. Not one was wanting.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "or, The Man Haggard*\\n63\\nNor were there wanting partners worthy of\\nheroes. Fair, stately women, beautiful and\\nqueenly, such as the cold north alone brings\\nforth: women swarthy-browed and high-\\nbosomed, no mean rivals of Cleopatra and\\nSemiramis; lithe brunettes with flashing eyes\\nand brows storm-swept with the tornadoes of\\npassionate love, and yet more passionate re-\\nmorse; dovelike maidens, coquettish damsels;\\nevery type was there. Not one was wanting.\\nNever was seen such a gathering of fair women\\nor heroic men since Cadmus reaped his crop\\nof armed warriors, or at her knee Harmonia\\ngathered the pure profiles of her daughters in\\nthe city of the Violet Crown.\\nThe banquet was far advanced. Already the\\nfeasters were sated with ortolans and ante-\\nlopes; pearl oysters and the dugong potted in\\nfar Australian lands passed unheeded. The\\nwine cup passed freely from hand to hand, and\\nfrom the deep cellars flowed the great vintages\\nwithout stint, Rhenish, Chian, Falernian, Im-\\nperial Tokay, and the choicest brands of\\nArcady itself.\\nBut now all eyes were turned to the head of\\nthe table, where sat the mighty figure of the\\nHost, bowed with the weight of more than\\nninety years, with locks white as the garland\\nof roses which crowned them; white as the\\nbeard which lay upon his knees, and twined\\nlovingly about his feet. His massive brow\\nwas bronzed by tropic suns, and seamed with\\nthe storms of long-spent passion; but his eyes", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "64 An Object of Pity;\\nneither heeded nor beheld the pale host of the\\nNorth around him. His thoughts were far\\naway; away in the days of his high youth;\\naway at the other side of the world, with the\\ndusky tribes whom he had taught and judged\\nand ruled; ay, ruled as the strong must ever\\nsway the weak. Far-off voices rang in his ears\\nthe cheers of a people dwelling in peace,\\nsecured in the titles to their lands by the\\ndauntless judgments and Solonian awards of\\nthe Land Court of Apia. Ovations, triumphs,\\npaeans perfect paeans passed before his eyes.\\nWhat wonder that he neither spake nor saw?\\nBut now his swarthy cupbearer drew nigh,\\nbearing the wassail bowl of burnished gold,\\ncrowned to the very brim, with liquor with-\\nout price. The Master raised it to his trem-\\nbling lips, and draining it at a single draught,\\nhe muttered Curagoa ah, me what mem-\\nories Gibson, 1 Curagoa And the cupbearer\\nbehind his chair chanted, after the wild island\\nfashion, in his shrill tones Cock-a-doodle do\\nMy Lord Haggard drinks Cock-a-doodle\\ndo!\\nBut still he muttered, Curagoa\u00e2\u0080\u0094 H.B.M.S.\\nCuraQoa.\\nFired at the word, the assembled guests\\nprayed to hear once more the tale of which\\nnone grew ever weary the tale of Samoa\\nthe siren melody of the South Seas. Back to\\nthe hall, back across the vaults of Time and\\n*Captain Gibson was commander of the\\nBritish warship Curagoa, on duty at Samoa.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "of, The Man Haggar d.\\n65\\nSpace journeyed the undimmed eye; for the\\nfirst time he heeded the assembled crowd.\\nOnce more! they craved of him, and yet\\nagain, Once more At last he rose. At the\\nsight of the lofty figure, tossed in a storm of\\npetulant disdain, all bowed the head. Ah!\\nquel homme sobbed the Duchesse de Pondi-\\ncheri, flinging at his feet her carcanet of price-\\nless chalcedonies. Lawks Muster Bazett, ee\\nalways were a fine figger of a man, murmured\\nold Joe Bacon, the centenarian retainer, as he\\nguarded jealously the door.\\nThen fell on all a great hush, and out of it\\narose the voice of the old man eloquent.\\nCicero in the forum, Demosthenes in the arena,\\nChrysostom before the Council of Nicaea, never\\nunfolded a tale with such stirring eloquence.\\nIsocrates, Fenelon, Plutarch or Nicodemus\\nhad sighed with envy and remained mute in\\ndespair.\\nOnce more, in a silence broken only by the\\ndropping of tears and the gasps of strong men,\\nthey heard that marvellous tale.\\nBefore them rose the palm trees and the\\nprimeval forests of Samoa: the harbour thick\\nwith rusting wrecks the king s palace the\\ntwin cathedrals the exquisite salons of Met-\\nropolitan Apia.\\nBefore them moved again the slight, stealthy\\nfigure of the Teller of Tales, with shy, dark\\neyes, and a strange blending of mischief with\\nchivalry, of Heine with the Young Chevalier.\\nHard by, for them, was that Augustan face,", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "66 An Object of Pity;\\nbefore which even the Teller bowed, master-\\ning, in its lofty lineaments, things inscrutable.\\nPride, and Strength, and Grief, and Death,\\nand Love. Upon the other side moved the\\nlithe form and falcon gaze of Teuila, with lov-\\ning glance and dexterous fingers, weaving a\\ngarland for the child that skipped around her,\\nmischievous as a bag of monkeys, and fair as\\nany faun in Bacchus train. There, too, moved\\nthe slim and stately form of the Lady of the\\nPearl, serene alike beneath the hoofs of roll-\\ning horses or above the heads of the pigmy\\nfolks upon the beach. There, too, the well-\\nknit form of the cynosure of salons and of\\nsquadrons, ablaze with crystal and with gold.\\nIn the background towered once more a pair of\\nlofty figures the one broad, with features\\nclean-shaven and sardonic. Souvent femme\\nvarie, he snarled, in deep and luscious ac-\\ncents; Tout passe tout lasse: only cacao\\npays, he added, flinging a handful of gifts,\\naccompanied by a burning glance of admiration\\nupon the Samoan crowd. But no word passed\\nthe stern lips of his companion, Pelema, the\\nonlooker, who long had renounced all ambi-\\ntions, and stood aloof, the better to watch the\\ngame. Behind all these a background of\\nswarthy figures, with Titanic sinews and lux-\\nuriant forms, in which here and there appeared\\nthe German, the missionary, or the Comber of\\nthe Beach.\\nThe cunning tongue marshalled this strange\\nprocession, bending it in and out, leading it to\\nurfk", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "ot f The Man Haggard*\\n67\\nand fro, always past one dignified and slender\\nfigure, whose dark eyes gleamed dimly as\\nthrough a veil, which seemed to shroud her\\nfeatures in mystery. Gracious words fell from\\nher lips; gracious thoughts guided her acts;\\nand still through all the twisting and twining,\\nmystery abode around her; a mystery as deep\\nas ever brooded upon the waves of Eleusis, or\\nsanctified the croonings of the Dodonean dove.\\nOnce more the tale we have heard was dis-\\nclosed, and still to the end the mystery of the\\nNameless Lady was unrevealed.\\nA great shout burst from all that company.\\nBravo bravo bis bis they cried. Who\\nwas she? they clamoured; tell us her name\\nat least!\\nProud beauties that never had to ask before\\njoined their supplications to the seductions of\\ntheir sisters, whose pride it was to bend the\\nhaughtiest to their will, and wring the deepest\\nsecrets from reluctant lips. The golden mouths\\nof matchless orators were added to the blunt\\nbehests of unconquered soldiers and the subtle\\ninducements of the wily priest: Tell us who\\nwas she, this Queen? they cried with pas-\\nsionate glances, and yet again, Her name?\\nBut for all his ninety years the heart of the\\nMan of Iron remained unmolten. They are\\nall dead and gone, he said, save me alone\\nAmicus Socrates, amicus Plato, sed magis\\namicus curiae. In this bosom perishes the\\nSecret of the Beach of Apia.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "68\\nAn Object of Pity.\\nVale Samoa,\\n[by captain leigh.]\\nGood-bye to the Samoan Isles,\\nThe Siva 1 and the Kava. 2\\nGood-bye to seas of emerald green,\\nAnd rocks of glistening lava.\\nFarewell to bold Malie s chief,\\nAnd eke to Malietoa.\\nFarewell to Tamasese s Clan,\\nThe kindest in Samoa.\\nFarewell to all the cheery folk,\\nWho live upon Vailima.\\nI know they will not laugh, and say\\nWe ne er saw Apolima.\\nFarewell to her the woman-child\\nI trust that naught will check her\\nBelief in me it isn t true,\\nThat I love Bella Decker.\\nThe steamer s whistle warns me, I\\nNo more can be a laggard.\\nSo farewell to my generous host,\\nFarewell to Bazett Haggard.\\nx The native dance of the Samoans.\\n2 The native drink.", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "w* Jill* W ^^fe\\\\ *W\\n^q %^%o 0^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. L\\n\\\\v A, Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide ~ip\\nV kj QrL** \u00c2\u00b0v\u00c2\u00a3 -J? Treatment Date: May 2009 C\\n*^f PreservationTechnologies\\nvP o^jw aX^^U A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION\\no V^\u00c2\u00a7sV^ %a ^ft. 111 Thomson Park Drive\\n*\u00e2\u0080\u009e^^a i A. v Cranberry Township, PA 16066\\n#t A (724)779-2111\\n111 Thomson Park Drive\\nCranberry Township, PA 1 6066\\n(724)779-2111\\n4", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "sh:\\n\u00c2\u00ab4 k\\nu ^_\\n-0/\\n-(p\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0\u00e2\u0080\u00a24* *lrj^^\u00e2\u0080\u009e ^t^. *W#5^ A\\n\\\\P$\\n*A\\nINDlNG\\nAP V", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "", "height": "5043", "width": "2740", "jp2-path": "objectofpityorma00stev_0080.jp2"}}