I am gratefully sensible of the honourable distinction implied in the determination of the Delegates of the Clarendon Press to have my History of Botany translated into the world-wide language of the British Empire. Fourteen years have elapsed since the first appearance of the work in Germany, from fifteen to eighteen years since it was composed,—a period of time usually long enough in our age of rapid progress for a scientific work to become obsolete. But if the preparation of an English translation shows that competent judges do not regard the book as obsolete, I should be inclined to refer this to two causes. First of all, no other work of a similar kind has appeared, as far as I know, since 1875, so that mine may still be considered to be, in spite of its age, the latest history of Botany; secondly, it has been my endeavour to ascertain the historical facts by careful and critical study of the older botanical literature in the original works, at the cost indeed of some years of working-power and of considerable detriment to my health, and facts never lose their value,—a truth which England especially has always recognised.
When Jorgenson opened a door to kick him out of it, the whole staff of the trading-post plunged after him. They'd been eavesdropping and they fled in pure horror.
He woke up thinking of Ganti, and in consequence he was in a bad mood right away. Most humans couldn't take the sort of thing that went on on Thriddar. Most of them wanted to use missile weapons—which the Thrid did not use—to change the local social system. Most humans got off Thriddar—fast! And boiling mad.
“The Model of all the Virtues” had a pair of searching eyes as clear as Wenham ice; but they were slower to melt than that fickle jewelry. Her features disordered themselves slightly at times in a surface-smile, but never broke loose from their corners and indulged in the riotous tumult of a laugh,——which, I take it, is the mob-law of the features,——and propriety the magistrate who reads the riot-act. She carried the brimming cup of her inestimable virtues with a cautious, steady hand, and an eye always on them, to see that they did not spill. Then she was an admirable judge of character. Her mind was a perfect laboratory of tests and reagents; every syllable you put into breath went into her intellectual eudiometer, and all your thoughts were recorded on litmus-paper. I think there has rarely been a more admirable woman. Of course, Miss Iris was immensely and passionately attached to her.——Well,——these are two highly oxygenated adverbs,——grateful,——suppose we say,——yes,——grateful, dutiful, obedient to her wishes for the most part,——perhaps not quite up to the concert pitch of such a perfect orchestra of the virtues.
It has been seen that Mr. Creswell's marriage with Marian Ashurst was sufficiently popular amongst the farmer class at Helmingham, but it was by no means so warmly received in other grades of society. Up at the Park, for instance, the people could scarcely restrain their indignation. Sir Thomas Churchill had always been accustomed to speak of "my neighbour, Mr. Creswell," as a "highly respectable man, sprung, as he himself does not scruple to own, from the people," chirrupped the old Sir Thomas, whose great-grandfather had been a tanner in Brocksopp,--"but eminently sound in all his views, and a credit to the--ahem!--commercial classes of the community." They sat together on the magistrates' bench, met on committees of charitable associations, and suchlike, and twice a year solemnly had each other to dinner to meet a certain number of other county people on nights when there was a moon, or, at least, when the calendar showed that there ought to have been one. In the same spirit old Lady Churchill, kindliest of silly old women, had been in the habit of pitying Marian Ashurst. "That charmin' girl, so modest and quiet; none of your fly-away nonsense about her, and clever, ain't she? I don't know about these things myself, but they tell me so; and to have to go into lodgin's, and all that! father a clergyman of the Church of England too!"--staunch old lady, never moving about without the Honourable Miss Grimstone's Church-service, in two volumes, in her trunk--"it really does seem too bad!" But when the news of the forthcoming marriage began to be buzzed about, and penetrated to the Park, Sir Thomas did not scruple to stigmatise his neighbour as an old fool, while my lady had no better opinion of Miss Ashurst than that she was a "forward minx." What could have so disturbed these exemplary people? Not, surely, the low passions of envy and jealousy? Sir Thomas Churchill, a notorious roué in his day, who had married the plainest-headed woman in the county for her money, all the available capital of which he had spent, could not possibly be envious of the fresh young bride whom his old acquaintance was bringing home? And Lady Churchill, to whom the village gossips talked incessantly of the intended redecoration of Woolgreaves, the equipages and horses which were ordered, the establishment which was about to be kept up, the position in parliament which was to be fought for, and, above all, the worship with which the elderly bridegroom regarded the juvenile bride-elect--these rumours did not influence her in the bitter depreciation with which she henceforth spoke of the late schoolmaster's daughter? Of course not! The utterances of the baronet and his lady were prompted by a deep regard to the welfare of both parties, and a wholesome regret that they had been prompted to take a step which could not be for the future happiness of either, of course.
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