The Project Gutenberg EBook of Malcolm, by George MacDonald #27 in our series by George MacDonald Copyright laws are changing all over the world Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file Please do not remove it Do not change or edit the header without written permission Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** Title: Malcolm Author: George MacDonald Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7127] [This file was first posted on March 13, 2003] Last Updated: July 19, 2016 Edition: 10 Language: English *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM *** Produced by Martin Robb MALCOLM by George MacDonald TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER I: MISS HORN CHAPTER II: BARBARA CATANACH CHAPTER III: THE MAD LAIRD CHAPTER IV: PHEMY MAIR CHAPTER V: LADY FLORIMEL CHAPTER VI: DUNCAN MACPHAIL CHAPTER VII: ALEXANDER GRAHAM CHAPTER VIII: THE SWIVEL CHAPTER IX: THE SALMON TROUT CHAPTER X: THE FUNERAL CHAPTER XI: THE OLD CHURCH CHAPTER XII: THE CHURCHYARD CHAPTER XIII: THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE CHAPTER XIV: MEG PARTAN'S LAMP CHAPTER XV: THE SLOPE OF THE DUNE CHAPTER XVI: THE STORM CHAPTER XVII: THE ACCUSATION CHAPTER XVIII: THE QUARREL CHAPTER XIX: DUNCAN'S PIPES CHAPTER XX: ADVANCES CHAPTER XXI: MEDIATION CHAPTER XXII: WHENCE AND WHITHER? CHAPTER XXIII: ARMAGEDDON CHAPTER XXIV: THE FEAST CHAPTER XXV: THE NIGHT WATCH CHAPTER XXVI: NOT AT CHURCH CHAPTER XXVII: LORD GERNON CHAPTER XXVIII: A FISHER WEDDING CHAPTER XXIX: FLORIMEL AND DUNCAN CHAPTER XXX: THE REVIVAL CHAPTER XXXI: WANDERING STARS CHAPTER XXXII: THE SKIPPER'S CHAMBER CHAPTER XXXIII: THE LIBRARY CHAPTER XXXIV: MILTON, AND THE BAY MARE CHAPTER XXXV: KIRKBYRES CHAPTER XXXVI: THE BLOW CHAPTER XXXVII: THE CUTTER CHAPTER XXXVIII: THE TWO DOGS CHAPTER XXXIX: COLONSAY CASTLE CHAPTER XL: THE DEIL'S WINNOCK CHAPTER XLI: THE CLOUDED SAPPHIRES CHAPTER XLII: DUNCAN'S DISCLOSURE CHAPTER XLIII: THE WIZARD'S CHAMBER CHAPTER XLIV: THE HERMIT CHAPTER XLV: MR CAIRNS AND THE MARQUIS CHAPTER XLVI: THE BAILLIES' BARN CHAPTER XLVII: MRS STEWART'S CLAIM CHAPTER XLVIII: THE BAILLIES' BARN AGAIN CHAPTER XLIX: MOUNT PISGAR CHAPTER L: LIZZY FINDLAY CHAPTER LI: THE LAIRD'S BURROW CHAPTER LII: CREAM OR SCUM? CHAPTER LIII: THE SCHOOLMASTER'S COTTAGE CHAPTER LIV: ONE DAY CHAPTER LV: THE SAME NIGHT CHAPTER LVI: SOMETHING FORGOTTEN CHAPTER LVII: THE LAIRD'S QUEST CHAPTER LVIII: MALCOLM AND MRS STEWART CHAPTER LIX: AN HONEST PLOT CHAPTER LX: THE SACRAMENT CHAPTER LXI: MISS HORN AND THE PIPER CHAPTER LXII: THE CUTTLE FISH AND THE CRAB CHAPTER LXIII: MISS HORN AND LORD LOSSIE CHAPTER LXIV: THE LAIRD AND HIS MOTHER CHAPTER LXV: THE LAIRD'S VISION CHAPTER LXVI: THE CRY FROM THE CHAMBER CHAPTER LXVII: FEET OF WOOL CHAPTER LXVIII: HANDS OF IRON CHAPTER LXIX: THE MARQUIS AND THE SCHOOLMASTER CHAPTER LXX: END OR BEGINNING? CHAPTER I: MISS HORN "Na, na; I hae nae feelin's, thankfu' to say I never kent ony guid come o' them They're a terrible sicht i' the gait." "Naebody ever thoucht o' layin' 't to yer chairge, mem." "'Deed, I aye had eneuch adu to du the thing I had to du, no to say the thing 'at naebody wad du but mysel' I hae had nae leisur' for feelin's an' that," insisted Miss Horn But here a heavy step descending the stair just outside the room attracted her attention, and checking the flow of her speech perforce, with three ungainly strides she reached the landing "Watty Witherspail! Watty!" she called after the footsteps down the stair "Yes, mem," answered a gruff voice from below "Watty, whan ye fess the bit boxie, jist pit a hemmer an' a puckle nails i' your pooch to men' the hen hoose door The tane maun be atten't till as weel's the tither." "The bit boxie" was the coffin of her third cousin Griselda Campbell, whose body lay on the room on her left hand as she called down the stair Into that on her right Miss Horn now re-entered, to rejoin Mrs Mellis, the wife of the principal draper in the town, who had called ostensibly to condole with her, but really to see the corpse "Aih! she was taen yoong!" sighed the visitor, with long drawn tones and a shake of the head, implying that therein lay ground of complaint, at which poor mortals dared but hint "No that yoong," returned Miss Horn "She was upo' the edge o' aucht an' thirty." "Weel, she had a sair time o' 't." "No that sair, sae far as I see—an' wha sud ken better? She's had a bien doon sittin' (sheltered quarters), and sud hae had as lang's I was to the fore Na, na; it was nowther sae young nor yet sae sair." "Aih! but she was a patient cratur wi' a' flesh," persisted Mrs Mellis, as if she would not willingly be foiled in the attempt to extort for the dead some syllable of acknowledgment from the lips of her late companion "'Deed she was that!—a wheen ower patient wi' some But that cam' o' haein mair hert nor brains She had feelin's gien ye like—and to spare But I never took ower ony o' the stock It's a pity she hadna the jeedgment to match, for she never misdoobted onybody eneuch But I wat it disna maitter noo, for she's gane whaur it 's less wantit For ane 'at has the hairmlessness o' the doo 'n this ill wulled warl', there's a feck o' ten 'at has the wisdom o' the serpent An' the serpents mak sair wark wi' the doos—lat alane them 'at flees into the verra mouws o' them." "Weel, ye're jist richt there," said Mrs Mellis "An' as ye say, she was aye some easy to perswaud I hae nae doubt she believed to the ver' last he wad come back and mairry her." "Come back and mairry her! Wha or what div ye mean? I jist tell ye Mistress Mellis—an' it 's weel ye're named—gien ye daur to hint at ae word o' sic clavers, it 's this side o' this door o' mine ye s' be less acquant wi'." As she spoke, the hawk eyes of Miss Horn glowed on each side of her hawk nose, which grew more and more hooked as she glared, while her neck went craning forward as if she were on the point of making a swoop on the offender Mrs Mellis's voice trembled with something like fear as she replied: "Gude guide 's, Miss Horn! What hae I said to gar ye look at me sae by ordinar 's that?" "Said!" repeated Miss Horn, in a tone that revealed both annoyance with herself and contempt for her visitor "There's no a claver in a' the countryside but ye maun fess 't hame aneth yer oxter, as gin 't were the prodigal afore he repentit Ye s' get sma thanks for sic like here An' her lyin' there as she'll lie till the jeedgment day, puir thing!" CHAPTER LXX: END OR BEGINNING? When the fit was over, and he found Mr Graham was gone, he asked Malcolm, who had resumed his watch, how long it would take Lady Florimel to come from Edinburgh "Mr Crathie left wi' fower horses frae the Lossie Airms last nicht, my lord," said Malcolm; "but the ro'ds are ill, an' she winna be here afore sometime the morn." The marquis stared aghast: they had sent for her without his orders "What shall I do?" he murmured "If once I look in her eyes, I shall be damned Malcolm!" "Yes, my lord!" "Is there a lawyer in Portlossie?" "Yes, my lord; there's auld Maister Carmichael." "He won't do! He was my brother's rascal Is there no one besides?" "No in Portlossie, my lord There can be nane nearer than Duff Harbour, I doobt." "Take the chariot and bring him here directly Tell them to put four horses to Stokes can ride one." "I'll ride the ither, my lord." "You'll do nothing of the kind: you're not used to the pole." "I can tak the leader, my lord." "I tell you you're to do nothing of the kind!" cried the marquis angrily "You're to ride inside, and bring Mr—what's his name? back with you." "Soutar, my lord, gien ye please." "Be off, then Don't wait to feed The brutes have been eating all day, and they can eat all night You must have him here in an hour." In an hour and a quarter, Miss Horn's friend stood by the marquis's bedside Malcolm was dismissed, but was presently summoned again to receive more orders Fresh horses were put to the chariot, and he had to set out once more—this time to fetch a justice of the peace, a neighbour laird The distance was greater than to Duff Harbour; the roads were worse; the north wind, rising as they went, blew against them as they returned, increasing to a violent gale; and it was late before they reached Lossie House When Malcolm entered, he found the marquis alone "Is Morrison here at last?" he cried in a feeble, irritated voice "Yes, my lord." "What the devil kept you so long? The bay mare would have carried me there and back in an hour and a half." "The roads war verra heavy, my lord An' jist hear till the win'!" The marquis listened a moment, and a frightened expression grew over his thin, pale, anxious face "You don't know what depends on it," he said, "or you would have driven better Where is Mr Soutar?" "I dinna ken, my lord only jist come, an' I've seen naebody." "Go and tell Mrs Courthope I want Soutar You'll find her crying somewhere— the old chicken! because I swore at her What harm could that do the old goose?" "It'll be mair for love o' yer lordship than fricht at the sweirin', my lord." "You think so? Why should she care? Go and tell her sorry But really she ought to be used to me by this time! Tell her to send Soutar directly." Mr Soutar was not to be found, the fact being that he had gone to see Miss Horn The marquis flew into an awful rage, and began to curse and swear frightfully "My lord! my lord!" said Malcolm, "for God's sake, dinna gang on that gait He canna like to hear that kin' o' speech—an' frae ane o' his ain tu!" The marquis stopped, aghast at his presumption, and choking with rage; but Malcolm's eyes filled with tears, and instead of breaking out again, his master turned his head away and was silent Mr Soutar came "Fetch Morrison," said the marquis, "and go to bed." The wind howled terribly as Malcolm ascended the stairs and half felt his way, for he had no candle, through the long passages leading to his room As he entered the last, a huge vague form came down upon him, like a deeper darkness through the dark Instinctively he stepped aside It passed noiselessly, with a long stride, and not even a rustle of its garments—at least Malcolm heard nothing but the roar of the wind He turned and followed it On and on it went, down the stair through a corridor, down the great stone turnpike stair, and through passage after passage When it came into the more frequented and half lighted thoroughfares of the house, it showed as a large figure in a long cloak, indistinct in outline It turned a corner close by the marquis's room But when Malcolm, close at its heels, turned also, he saw nothing but a vacant lobby, the doors around which were all shut One after another he quickly opened them, all except the marquis's, but nothing was to be seen The conclusion was that it had entered the marquis's room He must not disturb the conclave in the sick chamber with what might be but "a false creation, proceeding from the heat oppressed brain," and turned back to his own room, where he threw himself on his bed and fell asleep About twelve Mrs Courthope called him: his master was worse, and wanted to see him The midnight was still, for the dark and wind had ceased But a hush and a cloud seemed gathering in the stillness and darkness, and with them came the sense of a solemn celebration, as if the gloom were canopy as well as pall—black, but bordered and hearted with purple and gold; and the stillness seemed to tremble as with the inaudible tones of a great organ, at the close or commencement of some mighty symphony With beating heart he walked softly towards the room where, as on an altar, lay the vanishing form of his master, like the fuel in whose dying flame was offered the late and ill nurtured sacrifice of his spirit As he went through the last corridor leading thither, Mrs Catanach, type and embodiment of the horrors that haunt the dignity of death, came walking towards him like one at home, her great round body lightly upborne on her soft foot It was no time to challenge her presence, and yielding her the half of the narrow way, he passed without a greeting She dropped him a courtesy with an uplook and again a vailing of her wicked eyes The marquis would not have the doctor come near him, and when Malcolm entered there was no one in the room but Mrs Courthope The shadow had crept far along the dial His face had grown ghastly, the skin had sunk to the bones, and his eyes stood out as if from much staring into the dark They rested very mournfully on Malcolm for a few moments, and then closed softly "Is she come yet?" he murmured, opening them wide, with sudden stare "No, my lord." The lids fell again, softly, slowly "Be good to her, Malcolm," he murmured "I wull, my lord," said Malcolm solemnly Then the eyes opened and looked at him; something grew in them—a light as of love, and drew up after it a tear; but the lips said nothing The eyelids fell again, and in a minute more, Malcolm knew by his breathing that he slept The slow night waned He woke sometimes, but soon dozed off again The two watched by him till the dawn It brought a still grey morning, without a breath of wind, and warm for the season The marquis appeared a little revived, but was hardly able to speak Mostly by signs he made Malcolm understand that he wanted Mr Graham, but that some one else must go for him Mrs Courthope went! As soon as she was out of the room, he lifted his hand with effort, laid feeble hold on Malcolm's jacket, and drawing him down, kissed him on the forehead Malcolm burst into tears, and sank weeping by the bedside Mr Graham entering a little after, and seeing Malcolm on his knees, knelt also, and broke into a prayer "O blessed Father!" he said, "who knowest this thing, so strange to us, which we call death, breathe more life into the heart of thy dying son, that in the power of life he may front death O Lord Christ, who diedst thyself, and in thyself knowest it all, heal this man in his sore need—heal him with strength to die." Came a faint Amen from the marquis "Thou didst send him into the world: help him out of it O God, we belong to thee utterly We dying men are thy children, O living Father! Thou art such a father, that thou takest our sins from us and throwest them behind thy back Thou cleanest our souls, as thy Son did wash our feet We hold our hearts up to thee: make them what they must be, O Love, O Life of men, O Heart of hearts! Give thy dying child courage, and hope, and peace—the peace of him who overcame all the terrors of humanity, even death itself, and liveth for evermore, sitting at thy right hand, our God brother, blessed to all ages—amen." "Amen!" murmured the marquis, and slowly lifting his hand from the coverlid, he laid it on the head of Malcolm, who did not know it was the hand of his father, blessing him ere he died "Be good to her," said the marquis once more But Malcolm could not answer for weeping, and the marquis was not satisfied Gathering all his force he said again, "Be good to her." "I wull, I wull," burst from Malcolm in sobs, and he wailed aloud The day wore on, and the afternoon came Still Lady Florimel had not arrived, and still the marquis lingered As the gloom of the twilight was deepening into the early darkness of the winter night, he opened wide his eyes, and was evidently listening Malcolm could hear nothing; but the light in his master's face grew, and the strain of his listening diminished At length Malcolm became aware of the sound of wheels, which came rapidly nearer, till at last the carriage swung up to the hall door A moment, and Lady Florimel was flitting across the room "Papa! papa!" she cried, and, throwing her arm over him, laid her cheek to his The marquis could not return her embrace; he could only receive her into the depths of his shining tearful eyes "Flory!" he murmured, " going away going—I've got—to make an—apology Malcolm, be good—" The sentence remained unfinished The light paled from his countenance—he had to carry it with him He was dead Lady Florimel gave a loud cry Mrs Courthope ran to her assistance "My lady's in a dead faint!" she whispered, and left the room to get help Malcolm lifted Lady Florimel in his great arms, and bore her tenderly to her own apartment There he left her to the care of her women, and returned to the chamber of death Meantime Mr Graham and Mr Soutar had come When Malcolm re-entered, the schoolmaster took him kindly by the arm and said: "Malcolm, there can be neither place nor moment fitter for the solemn communication I am commissioned to make to you: I have, as in the presence of your dead father, to inform you that you are now Marquis of Lossie; and God forbid you should be less worthy as marquis than you have been as fisherman!" Malcolm stood stupefied For a while he seemed to himself to be turning over in his mind something he had heard read from a book, with a nebulous notion of being somehow concerned in it The thought of his father cleared his brain He ran to the dead body, kissed its lips, as he had once kissed the forehead of another, and falling on his knees, wept, he knew not for what Presently, however, he recovered himself, rose, and, rejoining the two men, said "Gentlemen, hoo mony kens this turn o' things?" "None but Mr Morrison, Mrs Catanach, and ourselves—so far as I know," answered Mr Soutar "And Miss Horn," added Mr Graham "She first brought out the truth of it, and ought to be the first to know of your recognition by your father." "I s' tell her mysel'," returned Malcolm "But, gentlemen, I beg o' ye, till I ken what aboot an' gie ye leave, dinna open yer moo' to leevin' cratur' aboot this There's time eneuch for the warl' to ken 't." "Your lordship commands me," said Mr Soutar "Yes, Malcolm,—until you give me leave," said Mr Graham "Whaur's Mr Morrison?" asked Malcolm "He is still in the house," said Mr Soutar "Gang till him, sir, an' gar him promise, on the word o' a gentleman, to haud his tongue I canna bide to hae 't blaret a' gait an' a' at ance For Mistress Catanach, I s' deal wi' her mysel'." The door opened, and, in all the conscious dignity conferred by the immunities and prerogatives of her calling, Mrs Catanach walked into the room "A word wi' ye, Mistress Catanach," said Malcolm "Certainly, my lord," answered the howdy, with mingled presumption and respect, and followed him to the dining room "Weel, my lord," she began, before he had turned from shutting the door behind them, in the tone and with the air, or rather airs, of having conferred a great benefit, and expecting its recognition "Mistress Catanach," interrupted Malcolm, turning and facing her, "gien I be un'er ony obligation to you, it 's frae anither tongue I maun hear 't But I hae an offer to mak ye: Sae lang as it disna come oot 'at I'm onything better nor a fisherman born, ye s' hae yer twinty poun' i' the year, peyed ye quarterly But the moment fowk says wha I am, ye touch na a poun' note mair, an' I coont mysel' free to pursue onything I can pruv agane ye." Mrs Catanach attempted a laugh of scorn, but her face was grey as putty, and its muscles declined response "Ay or no," said Malcolm "I winna gar ye sweir, for I wad lippen to yer aith no a hair." "Ay, my lord," said the howdy, reassuming at least outward composure, and with it her natural brass, for as she spoke she held out her open palm "Na, na!" said Malcolm, "nae forehan payments! Three months o' tongue haudin', an' there's yer five poun'; an' Maister Soutar o' Duff Harbour 'ill pay 't intill yer ain han' But brak troth wi' me, an' ye s' hear o' 't; for gien ye war hangt, the warl' wad be but the cleaner Noo quit the hoose, an' never lat me see ye aboot the place again But afore ye gang, I gie ye fair warnin' 'at I mean to win at a' yer byganes." The blood of red wrath was seething in Mrs Catanach's face; she drew herself up, and stood flaming before him, on the verge of explosion "Gang frae the hoose," said Malcolm, "or I'll set the muckle hun' to shaw ye the gait." Her face turned the colour of ashes, and with hanging cheeks and scared but not the less wicked eyes, she turned from the room Malcolm watched her out of the house, then following her into the town, brought Miss Horn back with him to aid in the last of earthly services, and hastened to Duncan's cottage But to his amazement and distress, it was forsaken, and the hearth cold In his attendance on his father, he had not seen the piper—he could not remember for how many days; and on inquiry he found that, although he had not been missed, no one could recall having seen him later than three or four days agone The last he could hear of him in the neighbourhood was, that, about a week before, a boy had spied him sitting on a rock in the Baillies' Barn, with his pipes in his lap Searching the cottage, he found that his broadsword and dirk, with all his poor finery, were gone That same night Mrs Catanach also disappeared A week after, what was left of Lord Lossie was buried Malcolm followed the hearse with the household Miss Horn walked immediately behind him, on the arm of the schoolmaster It was a great funeral, with a short road, for the body was laid in the church—close to the wall, just under the crusader with the Norman canopy Lady Florimel wept incessantly for three days; on the fourth she looked out on the sea and thought it very dreary; on the fifth she found a certain gratification in hearing herself called the marchioness; on the sixth she tried on her mourning, and was pleased; on the seventh she went with the funeral and wept again; on the eighth came Lady Bellair, who on the ninth carried her away To Malcolm she had not spoken once Mr Graham left Portlossie Miss Horn took to her bed for a week Mr Crathie removed his office to the House itself, took upon him the function of steward as well as factor, had the state rooms dismantled, and was master of the place Malcolm helped Stoat with the horses, and did odd jobs for Mr Crathie From his likeness to the old marquis, as he was still called, the factor had a favour for him, firmly believing the said marquis to be his father, and Mrs Stewart his mother Hence he allowed him a key to the library, of which Malcolm made good use The story of Malcolm's plans and what came of them, requires another book THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Malcolm, by George MacDonald *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM *** This file should be named 7127-h.htm or 7127-h.zip Produced by Martin Robb Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US unless a copyright notice is included Thus, we usually do not keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, even years after the official publication date Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month A preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment and editing by those who wish to do so Most people start at our Web sites at: http://gutenberg.net or http://promo.net/pg These Web sites include award-winning information about Project Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!) Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement can get to them as follows, and just download by date This is also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, as it appears in our Newsletters Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work The time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc Our projected audience is one hundred million readers If the value per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): eBooks Year Month 1 1971 July 10 1991 January 100 1994 January 1000 1997 August 1500 1998 October 2000 1999 December 2500 2000 December 3000 2001 November 4000 2001 October/November 6000 2002 December* 9000 2003 November* 10000 2004 January* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium We need your donations more than ever! As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones that have responded As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state In answer to various questions we have received on this: We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally request donations in all 50 states If your state is not listed and you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, just ask While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to donate International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are ways Donations by check or money order may be sent to: Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation PMB 113 1739 University Ave Oxford, MS 38655-4109 Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment method other than by check or money order The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-622154 Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law As fund-raising requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states We need your donations more than ever! You can get up to date donation information online at: http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html *** If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, you can always email directly to: Michael S Hart hart@pobox.com Prof Hart will answer or forward your message We would prefer to send you information by email **The Legal Small Print** (Three Pages) ***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our fault So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement disclaims most of our liability to you It also tells you how you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to *BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept this "Small Print!" statement If you do not, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person you got it from If you received this eBook on a physical medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project") Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties Special rules, set forth below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market any commercial products without permission To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain works Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any medium they may be on may contain "Defects" Among other things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, [1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that time to the person you received it from If you received it on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement copy If you received it electronically, such person may choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to receive it electronically THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS" NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you may have other legal rights INDEMNITY You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, [2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, or [3] any Defect DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this "Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, or: [1] Only give exact copies of it Among other things, this requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the eBook or this "small print!" statement You may however, if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, including any form resulting from conversion by word processing or hypertext software, but only so long as *EITHER*: [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and does *not* contain characters other than those intended by the author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may be used to convey punctuation intended by the author, and additional characters may be used to indicate hypertext links; OR [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the program that displays the eBook (as is the case, for instance, with most word processors); OR [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form) [2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this "Small Print!" statement [3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the gross profits you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes If you don't derive profits, no royalty is due Royalties are payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return Please contact us beforehand to let us know your plans and to work out the details WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine readable form The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses Money should be paid to the: "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: hart@pobox.com [Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only when distributed free of all fees Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by Michael S Hart Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be they hardware or software or any other related product without express permission.] *END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* ... For ane 'at has the hairmlessness o' the doo 'n this ill wulled warl', there's a feck o' ten 'at has the wisdom o' the serpent An' the serpents mak sair wark wi' the doos—lat alane them 'at flees into the verra mouws o' them."... I dinna care muckle about whusky an' that kin' o' thing mysel' It's the fiddles an the dancin' 'at I like." "You have music, then?" "Ay; jist the fiddles an' the pipes." "The bagpipes, do you mean?" "Ay; my gran'father plays them." ... Trusting to Jean's cunning, as well she might; she was in the dead chamber, and standing over the dead She had folded back the sheet—not from the face, but from the feet—and raised the night dress of fine linen in which the love of her cousin had robed the dead for the repose of the tomb