The Black Box

The Black Box, by E. Phillips Oppenheim. This 1915 book was an early movie tie-in. The movie, made also in 1915, is unfortunately lost.

A man sits oblivious to the hand over his head

Oppenheim was a prolific and popular writer — and quite inventive. How could you not want to read about the “pocket wireless” or the “phototelesme” or find out information from young women by “very dodgy means” (as one smooth reader put it)?

Fools, all of you!

“You have embarked on a new study—anthropology. What characteristic strikes you most forcibly in connection with it? Cunning? The necklace might be where the skeleton is. Why not begin at the beginning?”

“Drop all investigation. The hands that return these jewels command it.”

“Pitted against the inherited cunning of the ages, you have no chance. I will take compassion upon you. Look in the right-hand drawer of your desk.”

“In the great scheme of things, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe divided an inheritance amongst His children. To one He gave power, to another strength, to another beauty, but to His favourites He gave cunning.”

“You will fail here as you have failed before. Better go back. There is more danger for you in this country than you dream of.”

“To Sanford Quest.

“You have escaped this time by a chance of fortune, not because your wits are keen, not because of your own shrewdness; simply because Fate willed it. It will not be for long.”

“There is not one amongst you with the wit of a Mongar child. Good-bye!”

The Hands!”

“Fools, all of you! The cunning of the ages defeats your puny efforts at every turn.

The Hands!”

“You have all lost again. Why not give it up? You can never win.

The Hands.”

“Even time fights you. It loses that you may lose.

The Hands.

“Fools! Tongues of flame will cross Quest’s path. He will never reach the depot alive.”

“You have been a clever opponent, Sanford Quest, but even now you are to be cheated. The wisdom of the ages outreaches yours, outreaches it and triumphs.”

Soon to be available at Project Gutenberg….

Eight Popular Lectures

Wit, Humor, Reason, Rhetoric, Prose, Poetry and Story woven into Eight Popular Lectures, George W. Bain (1915). Eight lectures by “The silver-tongued Kentuckian.”

A quote from the book:

Some persons seem to think lecturing a very simple occupation, requiring only a glib tongue, and a good pair of lungs.

George Washington Bain (b. 1840) was a temperance speaker and worked the Chautauqua circuit (among others). This site reports that Bain gave one of the lectures included in this book on July 15, 1905.

Thanks to Carol David and Lesley Halamek for Post-processing this book!

Jan: a Dog and a Romance

Jan: a Dog and a Romance, by A. J. Dawson. Jan is the offspring of Finn (an Irish wolfhound) and Desdemona (a bloodhound). This is the story of his beginnings…

Alex John Dawson (1872-1951) was an Australian. His most famous book is probably Finn the Wolfhound. He also has a book Jan, son of Finn with a later date than this book. It may be the same book with a different title — perhaps to capitalize on the popularity of Finn?

This book was copyright 1915, and has a lovely frontispiece by Norman Rockwell, who was about 19 when it was published.

Thanks to Ed Casuli for Post-Processing this book!

Fast Nacht Kuchen

A Recipe from Edith M. Thomas
  • 3 tablespoons honey.
  • 3/4 quart milk.
  • 2 quarts flour.
  • 1 yeast cake.
  • 1/2 cup butter.
  • 2 eggs.

Without fail, every year on Shrove Tuesday, or “Fast Nacht,” the day before the beginning of Lent, these cakes were made. Quite early in the morning, or the night before, the following sponge was set to rise: The lukewarm, scalded milk, mixed into a smooth batter with 1 quart of flour; add 1 Fleischman’s yeast cake, dissolved in a very little water. Beat well together, set in a warm place to rise over night, or several hours, and when light, add the following, which has been creamed together: eggs, butter and lard, a little flour and the honey. Beat well, and then add the balance of the flour, reserving a small quantity to flour the board later. Set to rise again, and when quite light roll out on a well-floured board, cut into circles with a doughnut cutter, cut holes in the centre of cakes, let rise, and then fry in deep fat; dust with pulverised sugar and cinnamon, if liked. These are regular German doughnuts, and are never very sweet. If liked sweeter, a little sugar may be added. From this batter Mary made 18 “fried cakes,” or “Fast Nacht Kuchen,” as the Germans call them. She also made from the same dough one dozen cinnamon buns and two Dutch cakes. The dough not being very sweet, she sprinkled rivels composed of sugar, flour and butter, generously over the top of the “Dutch cakes.” The dough for doughnuts, or fried cakes, should always have a little more flour added than dough for “Dutch cakes” or buns; baked in the oven. If too soft, they will absorb fat while frying.

This is from a book “Mary at the Farm” — part cookbook part travelogue through Pennsylvania Dutch country. In the (few) years we lived in the area, I never had such a simple-sounding fastnacht; they were more like paczki — fat, rich, filled with jelly. I think I’ll have to try this one.