Entries Tagged 'Weird Stuff' ↓

Buchanan’s Journal of Man, Volume 1, Number 6, by Joseph Rodes Buchanan. Published July 1887.

Bookp(h)ile

AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO THE (AFTER 13 DAYS) SECOND EDITION,
AND ALGEOMETRY APPENDIX [The Life-Romance, pp. 38, 9, 48, 9, 60, 70, 1, 112].

In Considering how the great yellow vulture of Northern Africa, for instance, sits two mile up, “le bec au vent” (L. P. Mouillard, Paris, 1881, “L’Empire de l’Air”), on an invisible column [of Condensation Under] spying the smaller appetites a half, that scan the ground (Matthew, xxiv, 28), AND HOW MANKIND WILL PRESENTLY FLY; how Sound flies under with speed predetermined; I soon found that the Authorities for the first proceeding were nowhere, so that I had no chance to understand them, and, being unable to understand the Authorities for the second, found at last that the Authorities were wrong!

Hearing no responses from I must substitute the better explanation called for, p. 18, myself! A unit at the bottom of a vertical tube is artificially doubled under an imaginary cap. The weight above is always the column. The double unit motor is ^I _II , p. 9 [Hold the book upright]. The double unit moved is (virtually) II and (III, which must be, out of the way of the cap). The effect, Sound, goes up two steps to the new head of condensation ( ^III _IV ) cap. The analysis, dropping two 2 factors, “2 (because this end is stationary) × 2 (the live pressure),” p. 10, halves the arrow-head v; and its V, therefore, on half that computed, pp. 11, 12 = ½ our “two steps” V which remains 1126.4 [clipped a little, “down to 1120 or under,” by my AIR SOUND FRICTION, p. 17] instead of 944 (which Newton proved (?), Laplace, approving, failed how conspicuously to correct! pp. 4, 15, 16, 18) feet a second.

If in d v, p. 10, the parenthesis changed also becomes (2), 1/V = 1/√gH, Newtonian Sound speed, interpretable? (!)

And have not been through these arithmetical and emotional experiences without having suffered almost want, going about with my feet bare in my shoes through great holes in my socks nineteen days without a cent in my pocket, July 12th to July 31st last; bitterly treated by my friends for whom in worse necessity I had denied my own; refused by my sisters whom I love, my sister (ill) Egality having sailed abroad without leaving me her direction or address, and my sister Charity in Egality’s house letting down pears from a high window by a string, which I didn’t want and only took out of politeness, in a brown paper bag which wouldn’t go through the opening of the (chained) door, Non quo more piris vesci Calaber jubet hospes!

My first eighteen pages cost three years labor, and were rewritten between twenty-five and fifty times; one word I waited twenty years for, donned, The Life Romance, 155; another, hunted through the Public Library encyclopædias to the Armenian corner shop above the Common, Hagop Bogigian’s where I found it, broidered, on a prayer rug, p. 36. My designs were instantaneous Suggestions, perfect; opposite my profile count — excuse me! I didn’t see when I had drawn, and put in the number — 64 little areas (!) why not from Heaven, my dear mother’s or little brother’s, too sweet to live, how proud and playful! loving! wise! a born geometer (?) which in Boston Cambridge “the name implies”. And the united charge of my two books wrapped separate, for the big mail box — I have just noticed —, 34 + 30, 64 ounces (!)

If there be ART in anything I have inked the ART will live; if there be Truth it will not perish; if there be Science some day soon it will be Ever Unforgotten; if there be Love, above all ART, and Truth, and Science, Love is the One Redemption of the earth!

The Fault with gold is, that We Haven’t; it has no rival for a party honestly to prefer, its drawback being, it is not invariable. The Perfect Standard must combine (respect) all valuations, of bread, beef, land, labor, literary effort, sun-gold, moon-silver, planet-beauty, as the centre of gravity of every particle (in the system)’s every (changed) position; be Corrected (monthly) by the Board of Statistical Average Computers, each coin with gold grains stamped how many, and all “dollars” redeemable, which would protect from presentation, in the Last Standard, uncoined without charge. Details, expenses, a supreme court, establishment (costless because beyond all computation valuable economically and morally and full of employment to the people), Independence (of political gyroscopy), a slow moving cycle keeping the balance through the centuries A Head, — of course! Given the quantities and sale prices of the commodities, and Reserve Statistics, I could write the complex fractional Corrective.

My best verses are — I know it, and went twice out, spring mornings, at four o’clock, to see (reality) what I had written — four, p. 49, beginning, “Sleep, love, the pride of day.” It is PRIMARY METAPHOR of all times and places, Shakespearian and classic, Dian A Huntress; My Romance is MARY MET ^{AND WOULD} _{HAVE DIED F} OR, equally world-real, unlocal, human-true! If I throb in sympathy with every Living Sin I cannot help it; the trees have it, creaking above (your tent) in sleepy forest, the peaks which glitter, “Do not dare us!”, the avalanches sifting (I have listened, lost) through the night their opposite “beware, be ware, we are but helpless!” — feeling the heartbeats of somehow Delilah (22) without contrition, the care of Samson hinting Departure — Read it! — to the boy.

Unchosen by my University to teach her English and mathematics I yet can measure our pensive mother; pour melted iron into her mould; cajole your figures into either Lying, p. 16, or everyelsewhere (?), Telling Truth. And if, my dear two hundred friends every one who have just taken, from my own hands, three hundred (and — how many?) copies, I’ve said too much, you shouldn’t have so much encouraged! — my main object being still, believe me! to thicken the back and bring the Y in DISCOVERY, full-forked, out, round, upon.

This, bound separate (until the earlier output is exhausted, when the two together may be obtainable only under one cover), will be given away with “The Life-Romance,” published by J. G. Cupples, Boston, 1891, (One vol., octavo, wide margins, bespoke paper, cloth Harvard crimson, gilt top, 204 pp., with portrait, $2 postpaid) ordered hereafter of any bookseller, a book like no other that ever will be, as twenty brilliant acknowledgements from literary sovereigns, — “scintillating,” “fascinating,” “subtle,” “sincere,” “sublime,” “gorgeous,” “fantastic,” “exquisite,” “ambrosial,” “most soul-compelling,” “so suggestive of still higher things,” “a glimpse into Eleusinian mysteries or the literature of the planet Mars,” “like purple mountain peaks rising above the clouds and disappearing in the whiteness of shrouds of mist,” one of eight hundred approving words from the (English) discoverer of the secret of the Pyramids, — expressly (“There is nothing like it in literature; and a splendid mind it is that goes flashing on through these pages.” — The Independent.) and by necessary implication agree. One from the author’s instructor in English (ending his letter), “The ebullition of your thoughts makes me feel as if I had been attracted to within a few hundred miles of the sun and had his gas-jets in full view.” — Professor F. J. Child, Harvard College.

Price of this book sent, postage (or express) paid, to any address,
One dollar.

From the back of: My Soundspeed Discovery, Expanding into a Constructive Medley of Wit and Song; being a Four Years After-Inflorescence of The Life-Romance of an Algebraist, by George Winslow Pierce. Boston: By the Author, 1895 (stated 2nd edition).

Pussy Makes a Pet of the Rat and Is a Mother to It

It is related in the San Francisco Chronicle that, four miles from Farmington, in California, resides a well-to-do rancher named Morrow. He has a little 4-year-old son, Vernie, who usually has about everything he takes a fancy to. Among the things he fancies an which he has is a large, matronly cat that has been brought up to make due provisions for herself and her progeny. Jet is this cat’s name and jet her color. Jet and Vernie are great friends, and they are frequently seen roaming around the premises together when Jet’s time is not taken up with her own private affairs. Jet has always borne the reputation of being “sure death” to any rats or ground squirrels. A short time ago, in exploring the barns, granaries, and barn yard, Vernie came upon a nest of young rats, which he immediately took up an carried to the house, and placed carefully in a drawer in his mother’s sewing machine. Mrs. Morrow objected to the nest of rats being in the drawer, and took them out to drown them, when Vernie insisted he must keep one, and begged so hard for it that his mother gave it to him. In a short time he laid it down and forgot about it. Then Jet came along and took up the young rat and carried it to her bed as a companion for her one kitten and a solace to her own mind. Strange as it may appear, the young rat made himself at home, derived his sustenance from the same source as the kitten, received the same maternal attention from Jet, who seemed to forget that she was nursing her legitimate prey, to the great delight of Vernie and the surprise of the older heads about the neighborhood. This strange state of affairs continued for two or three weeks, when the baby rat strayed from Jet’s protection, and met his death at the claws of another cat not so merciful as Jet. Strange as this may appear, it is a fact, and can be verified by several persons who witnessed this peculiar and happy family.

A fashionable audience in Paris recently listened to a lecture on chemistry by a celebrated chemist. At the conclusion of the lecture a lady and gentleman who were among the first to leave the hall had reached the open air, when the lady caught her escort staring at her. “What is the matter?” asked the madame, in surprise. “Pardon me, but you are quite blue!” The lady returned to the hall and approached a mirror. She started back in horror. The rouge upon her cheeks had been converted into a beautiful blue by the chemical decomposition which had taken place under the influence of the gasses which had been generated during the lecture. The majority of the women in the audience had suffered in a similar manner. There were all sorts of colors–blue, yellow, violet and black. Some whose vanity had induced them to put ivory on the skin, coral on the lips, rouge on the cheeks and black on the eye-brows had undergone a ludicrous transformation.–New York Tribune.

(Say 1 vol., octavo, about 128 pages, wanting very much a publisher.)

To Death.

Welcome, sad Death, creed of the glazèd eye,
Our last true friend, the fickle hand of maid,
The faith of dame replacing, unafraid
Who clasp they own and with one latest breath

Bid, “Lead me to some palace of the night
That all must know, deprived of mortal sight,
Of earthly comfort, health, and human aid”;
Welcome, thrice welcome, final hope, sweet Death!

Perhaps in that long vision signs decree
Of aspirations and unclaimed desires
That fitly rose to feed immortal fires

The consummation that came not to me
Within this weary width of land and sea,
Of parents, pavements acres, homes, and spires.

From: My Soundspeed Discovery, by George Winslow Pierce. Boston: Published by the Author, 1895.

Jack Grisby of Lawrenceburg, Indiana, was engaged in storing pumpkins in the loft of his barn and his 5-year-old girl was standing near by watching him. A large pumpkin weighing about thirty pounds, rolled from the loft and, falling, struck the girl in her upturned face, breaking her back and causing instant death.

A Western Passenger Train Held Up by a Swarm of Hornets

A swarm of hornets held up a passenger train on the Chicago, Fort Madison & Des Moines railroad, and gave the trainmen and passengers a battle that will be remembered longer by far than if it had been against bandits, says an Ottumwa dispatch to the Cincinnati Tribune. The train was running slowly up a steep grade just outside the city, where the hillside is covered with trees. Suddenly Engineer Cunningham noticed a black mass moving through the air ahead of the train. Had he known what was coming he could have stopped his engine and backed to the next station. The small cloud soon developed into a swarm of hornets. The hornets notice the slowly puffing engine and made for it. They attacked the engineer and fireman, who were forced to stop the train. It was a sultry day and all the car windows were open. This gave the hornets an opportunity to enter the cars and pester the passengers. It was an hour before the trainmen and passengers succeeded in driving away the hornets. A number of persons were severely stung. The train stopped at a farmhouse until the injuries could be attended to and then proceeded to this city.