Produced by David Widger
by W.W. Jacobs
"Wonderful improvement," said Mr. Jack Mills. "Show 'em to me again."
Mr. Simpson took his pipe from his mouth and, parting his lips, revealed
his new teeth.
"And you talk better," said Mr. Mills, taking his glass from the counter
and emptying it; "you ain't got that silly lisp you used to have. What
does your missis think of 'em?"
"She hasn't seen 'em yet," said the other. "I had 'em put in at dinner-
time. I ate my dinner with 'em."
Mr. Mills expressed his admiration. "If it wasn't for your white hair
and whiskers you'd look thirty again," he said, slowly. "How old are
"Fifty-three," said his friend. "If it wasn't for being laughed at I've
often thought of having my whiskers shaved off and my hair dyed black.
People think I'm sixty."
"Or seventy," continued Mr. Mills. "What does it matter, people
laughing? You've got a splendid head of 'air, and it would dye
Mr. Simpson shook his head and, ordering a couple of glasses of bitter,
attacked his in silence.
"It might be done gradual," he said, after a long interval. "It don't
do anybody good at the warehouse to look old."
"Make a clean job of it," counselled Mr. Mills, who was very fond of a
little cheap excitement. "Get it over and done with. You've got good
features, and you'd look splendid clean-shaved." Mr. Simpson smiled
faintly. "Only on Wednesday the barmaid here was asking after you,"
pursued Mr. Mills. Mr. Simpson smiled again. "She says to me, 'Where's
Gran'pa?' she says, and when I says, haughty like, 'Who do you mean?'
she says, 'Father Christmas!' If you was to tell her that you are only
fifty-three, she'd laugh in your face."
"Let her laugh," said the other, sourly.
"Come out and get it off," said Mr. Mills, earnestly. "There's a
barber's in Bird Street; you could go in the little back room, where he
charges a penny more, and get it done without anybody being a bit the
He put his hand on Mr. Simpson's shoulder, and that gentleman, with a
glare in the direction of the fair but unconscious offender, rose in a
hypnotized fashion and followed him out. Twice on the way to Bird
Street Mr. Simpson paused and said he had altered his mind, and twice
did the propulsion of Mr. Mills's right hand, and his flattering
argument, make him alter it again.
It was a matter of relief to Mr. Simpson that the barber took his
instructions without any show of surprise. It appeared, indeed, that an
elderly man of seventy-eight had enlisted his services for a similar
purpose not two months before, and had got married six weeks afterwards.
Age of the bride given as twenty-four, but said to have looked older.
A snip of the scissors, and six inches of white beard fell to the floor.
For the first time in thirty years Mr. Simpson felt a razor on his face.
Then his hair was cut and shampooed; and an hour later he sat gazing at
a dark-haired, clean-shaven man in the glass who gazed back at him with
wondering eyes--a lean-jawed, good-looking man, who, in a favourable
light, might pass for forty. He turned and met the admiring eyes of Mr.
"What did I tell you?" inquired the latter. "You look young enough to
be your own son."
"Or grandson," said the barber, with professional pride.
Mr. Simpson got up slowly from the chair and, accompanied by the
admiring Mr. Mills, passed out into the street. The evening was young,
and, at his friend's suggestion, they returned to the Plume of Feathers.
"You give the order," said Mr. Mills, "and see whether she recognizes
Mr. Simpson obeyed.
"Don't you know him?" inquired Mr. Mills, as the barmaid turned away.
"I don't think I have that pleasure," said the girl, simpering.
"Gran'pa's eldest boy," said Mr. Mills.
"Oh!" said the girl. "Well, I hope he's a better man than his father,
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Mr. Simpson, painfully conscious
of his friend's regards.
"Nothing," said the girl, "nothing. Only we can all be better, can't
we? He's a nice old gentleman; so simple."
"Don't know you from Adam," said Mr. Mills, as she turned away. "Now,
if you ask me, I don't believe as your own missis will recognize you."
"Rubbish," said Mr. Simpson. "My wife would know me anywhere. We've
been married over thirty years. Thirty years of sunshine and shadow
together. You're a single man, and don't understand these things."
"P'r'aps you're right," said his friend. "But it'll be a bit of a shock
to her, anyway. What do you say to me stepping round and breaking the
news to her? It's a bit sudden, you know. She's expecting a white-
haired old gentleman, not a black-haired boy."
Mr. Simpson looked a bit uneasy. "P'r'aps I ought to have told her
first," he murmured, craning his neck to look in the glass at the back
of the bar.
"I'll go and put it right for you," said his friend. "You stay here and
smoke your pipe."
He stepped out briskly, but his pace slackened as he drew near the
"I--I--came--to see you about your husband," he faltered, as Mrs.
Simpson opened the door and stood regarding him.
"What's the matter?" she exclaimed, with a faint cry. "What's happened
"Nothing," said Mr. Mills, hastily. "Nothing serious, that is. I just
came round to warn you so that you will be able to know it's him."
Mrs. Simpson let off a shriek that set his ears tingling. Then,
steadying herself by the wall, she tottered into the front room,
followed by the discomfited Mr. Mills, and sank into a chair.
"He's dead!" she sobbed. "He's dead!"
"He is not," said Mr. Mills.
"Is he much hurt? Is he dying?" gasped Mrs. Simpson.
"Only his hair," said Mr. Mills, clutching at the opening. "He is not
hurt at all."
Mrs. Simpson dabbed at her eyes-and sat regarding him in bewilderment.
Her twin chins were still quivering with emotion, but her eyes were
beginning to harden. "What are you talking about?" she inquired, in a
"He's been to a hairdresser's," said Mr. Mills. "He's 'ad all his white
whiskers cut off, and his hair cut short and dyed black. And, what with
that and his new teeth, I thought--he thought--p'r'aps you mightn't know
him when he came home."
"Dyed?" cried Mrs. Simpson, starting to her feet.
Mr. Mills nodded. "He looks twenty years younger," he said, with a
smile. "He'd pass for his own son anywhere."
Mrs. Simpson's eyes snapped. "Perhaps he'd pass for my son," she
"Yes, easy," said the tactful Mr. Mills. "You can't think what a
difference it's made to him. That's why I came to see you--so you
shouldn't be startled."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Simpson. "I'm much obliged. But you might have
spared yourself the trouble. I should know my husband anywhere."
"Ah, that's what you think," retorted Mr. Mills, with a smile; "but the
barmaid at the Plume didn't. That's what made me come to you."
Mrs. Simpson gazed at him.
"I says to myself," continued Mr. Mills, "'If she don't know him, I'm
certain his missis won't, and I'd better----'"
"You'd better go," interrupted his hostess.
Mr. Mills started, and then, with much dignity, stalked after her to the
"As to your story, I don't believe a word of it," said Mrs. Simpson.
"Whatever else my husband is, he isn't a fool, and he'd no more think of
cutting off his whiskers and dyeing his hair than you would of telling
"Seeing is believing," said the offended Mr. Mills, darkly.
"I'll wait till I do see, and then I sha'n't believe," was the reply.
"It is a put-up job between you and some other precious idiot, I expect.
But you can't deceive me. If your black-haired friend comes here, he'll
get it, I can tell you."
She slammed the door on his protests and, returning to the parlour,
gazed fiercely into the glass on the mantelpiece. It reflected sixteen
stone of honest English womanhood, a thin wisp of yellowish-grey hair,
and a pair of faded eyes peering through clumsy spectacles.
"Son, indeed!" she said, her lips quivering. "You wait till you come
home, my lord!"
Mr. Simpson, with some forebodings, returned home an hour later. To a
man who loved peace and quietness the report of the indignant Mr. Mills
was not of a reassuring nature. He hesitated on the doorstep for a few
seconds while he fumbled for his key, and then, humming unconcernedly,
hung his hat in the passage and walked into the parlour.
The astonished scream of his wife warned him that Mr. Mills had by no
means exaggerated. She rose from her seat and, crouching by the
fireplace, regarded him with a mixture of anger and dismay.
"It--it's all right, Milly," said Mr. Simpson, with a smile that
revealed a dazzling set of teeth.
"Who are you?" demanded Mrs. Simpson. "How dare you call me by my
Christian name. It's a good job for you my husband is not here."
"He wouldn't hurt me," said Mr. Simpson, with an attempt at
facetiousness. "He's the best friend I ever had. Why, we slept in the
"I don't want any of your nonsense," said Mrs. Simpson. "You get out of
my house before I send for the police. How dare you come into a
respectable woman's house in this fashion? Be off with you."
"Now, look here, Milly----" began Mr. Simpson.
His wife drew herself up to her full height of four feet eleven.
"I've had a hair-cut and a shave," pursued her husband; "also I've had
my hair restored to its natural colour. But I'm the same man, and you
"I know nothing of the kind," said his wife, doggedly. "I don't know
you from Adam. I've never seen you before, and I don't want to see you
again. You go away."
"I'm your husband, and my place is at home," replied Mr. Simpson. "A
man can have a shave if he likes, can't he? Where's my supper?"
"Go on," said his wife. "Keep it up. But be careful my husband don't
come in and catch you, that's all."
Mr. Simpson gazed at her fixedly, and then, with an impatient
exclamation, walked into the small kitchen and began to set the supper.
A joint of cold beef, a jar of pickles, bread, butter, and cheese made
an appetizing display. Then he took a jug from the dresser and
descended to the cellar.
A musical trickling fell on the ear of Mrs. Simpson as she stood at the
parlour door, and drew her stealthily to the cellar. The key was in the
lock, and, with a sudden movement, she closed the door and locked it. A
sharp cry from Mr. Simpson testified to his discomfiture.
"Now I'm off for the police," cried his wife.
"Don't be a fool," shouted Mr. Simpson, tugging wildly at the door-
handle. "Open the door."
Mrs. Simpson remained silent, and her husband resumed his efforts until
the door-knob, unused to such treatment, came off in his hand. A sudden
scrambling noise on the cellar stairs satisfied the listener that he had
not pulled it off intentionally.
She stood for a few moments, considering. It was a stout door and
opened inwards. She took her bonnet from its nail in the kitchen and,
walking softly to the street-door, set off to lay the case before a
brother who lived a few doors away.
"Poor old Bill," said Mr. Cooper, when she had finished. "Still, it
might be worse; he's got the barrel o' beer with him."
"It's not Bill," said Mrs. Simpson.
Mr. Cooper scratched his whiskers and looked at his wife.
"She ought to know," said the latter. "We'll come and have a look at
him," said Mr. Cooper.
Mrs. Simpson pondered, and eyed him dubiously.
"Come in and have a bit of supper," she said at last. "There's a nice
piece of beef and pickles."
"And Bill--I mean the stranger--sitting on the beer-barrel," said Mr.
"You can bring your beer with you," said his sister, sharply. "Come
Mr. Cooper grinned, and, placing a couple of bottles in his coat
pockets, followed the two ladies to the house. Seated at the kitchen
table, he grinned again, as a persistent drumming took place on the
cellar door. His wife smiled, and a faint, sour attempt in the same
direction appeared on the face of Mrs. Simpson.
"Open the door!" bellowed an indignant voice. "Open the door!"
Mrs. Simpson, commanding silence with an uplifted finger, proceeded to
carve the beef. A rattle of knives and forks succeeded.
"O-pen-the-door!" said the voice again.
"Not so much noise," commanded Mr. Cooper. "I can't hear myself eat."
"Bob!" said the voice, in relieved accents, "Bob! Come and let me
Mr. Cooper, putting a huge hand over his mouth, struggled nobly with his
"Who are you calling 'Bob'?" he demanded, in an unsteady voice. "You
keep yourself to yourself. I've heard all about you. You've got to
stay there till my brother-in-law comes home."
"It's me, Bob," said Mr. Simpson--"Bill."
"Yes, I dare say," said Mr. Cooper; "but if you're Bill, why haven't you
got Bill's voice?"
"Let me out and look at me," said Mr. Simpson.
There was a faint scream from both ladies, followed by protests.
"Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Cooper, reassuringly. "I wasn't born
yesterday. I don't want to get a crack over the head."
"It's all a mistake, Bob," said the prisoner, appealingly. "I just had
a shave and a haircut and--and a little hair-dye. If you open the door
you'll know me at once."
"How would it be," said Mr. Cooper, turning to his sister, and speaking
with unusual distinctness--"how would it be if you opened the door, and
just as he put his head out I hit it a crack with the poker?"
"You try it on," said the voice behind the door, hotly. "You know who I
am well enough, Bob Cooper. I don't want any more of your nonsense.
Milly has put you up to this!"
"If your wife don't know you, how do you think I can?" said Mr. Cooper.
"Now, look here; you keep quiet till my brother-in-law comes home. If
he don't come home perhaps we shall be more likely to think you're him.
If he's not home by to-morrow morning we--Hsh! Hsh! Don't you know
there's ladies present?"
"That settles it," said Mrs. Cooper, speaking for the first time. "My
brother-in-law would never talk like that."
"I should never forgive him if he did," said her husband, piously.
He poured himself out another glass of beer and resumed his supper with
relish. Conversation turned on the weather, and from that to the price
of potatoes. Frantic efforts on the part of the prisoner to join in the
conversation and give it a more personal turn were disregarded. Finally
he began to kick with monotonous persistency on the door.
"Stop it!" shouted Mr. Cooper.
"I won't," said Mr. Simpson.
The noise became unendurable. Mr. Cooper, who had just lit his pipe,
laid it on the table and looked round at his companions.
"He'll have the door down soon," he said, rising. "Halloa, there!"
"Halloa!" said the other.
"You say you're Bill Simpson," said Mr. Cooper, holding up a forefinger
at Mrs. Simpson, who was about to interrupt. "If you are, tell us
something you know that only you could know; something we know, so as to
identify you. Things about your past."
A strange noise sounded behind the door.
"Sounds as though he is smacking his lips," said Mrs. Cooper to her
sister-in-law, who was eyeing Mr. Cooper restlessly.
"Very good," said Mr. Simpson; "I agree. Who is there?"
"Me and my wife and Mrs. Simpson," said Mr. Cooper.
"He is smacking his lips," whispered Mrs. Cooper. "Having a go at the
"Let's go back fifteen years," said Mr. Simpson in meditative tones.
"Do you remember that girl with copper-coloured hair that used to live
in John Street?"
"No!" said Mr. Cooper, loudly and suddenly.
"Do you remember coming to me one day--two days after Valentine Day, it
was--white as chalk and shaking like a leaf, and--"
"NO!" roared Mr. Cooper.
"Very well, I must try something else, then," said Mr. Simpson,
philosophically. "Carry your mind back ten years, Bob Cooper--"
"Look here!" said Mr. Cooper, turning round with a ghastly smile.
"We'd better get off home, Mary. I don't like interfering in other
people's concerns. Never did."
"You stay where you are," said his wife.
"Ten years," repeated the voice behind the door. "There was a new
barmaid at the Crown, and one night you----"
"If I listen to any more of this nonsense I shall burst," remarked Mr.
"Go on," prompted Mrs. Cooper, grimly. "One night----"
"Never mind," said Mr. Simpson. "It doesn't matter. But does he
identify me? Because if not I've got a lot more things I can try."
The harassed Mr. Cooper looked around appealingly.
"How do you expect me to recognize you--" he began, and stopped
"Go back to your courting days, then," said Mr. Simpson, "when Mrs.
Cooper wasn't Mrs. Cooper, but only wanted to be."
Mrs. Cooper shivered; so did Mr. Cooper.
"And you came round to me for advice," pursued Mr. Simpson, in
reminiscent accents, "because there was another girl you wasn't sure of,
and you didn't want to lose them both. Do you remember sitting with the
two photographs--one on each knee--and trying to make up your mind?"
"Wonderful imagination," said Mr. Cooper, smiling in a ghastly fashion
at his wife. "Hark at him!"
"I am harking," said Mrs. Cooper.
"Am I Bill Simpson or am I not?" demanded Mr. Simpson.
"Bill was always fond of his joke," said Mr. Cooper, with a glance at
the company that would have moved an oyster. "He was always fond of
making up things. You're like him in that. What do you think, Milly?"
"It's not my husband," said Mrs. Simpson.
"Tell us something about her," said Mr. Cooper, hastily.
"I daren't," said Mr. Simpson. "Doesn't that prove I'm her husband?
But I'll tell you things about your wife, if you like."
"You dare!" said Mrs. Cooper, turning crimson, as she realized what
confidences might have passed between husband and wife. "If you say a
word of your lies about me, I don't know what I won't do to you."
"Very well, I must go on about Bob, then--till he recognizes me," said
Mr. Simpson, patiently. "Carry your mind--"
"Open the door and let him out," shouted Mr. Cooper, turning to his
sister. "How can I recognize a man through a deal door?"
Mrs. Simpson, after a little hesitation, handed him the key, and the
next moment her husband stepped out and stood blinking in the gas-light.
"Do you recognize me?" he asked, turning to Mr. Cooper.
"I do," said that gentleman, with a ferocious growl.
"I'd know you anywhere," said Mrs. Cooper, with emphasis.
"And you?" said Mr. Simpson, turning to his wife.
"You're not my husband," she said, obstinately.
"Are you sure?" inquired Mr. Cooper.
"Very good, then," said her brother. "If he's not your husband I'm
going to knock his head off for telling them lies about me."
He sprang forward and, catching Mr. Simpson by the collar, shook him
violently until his head banged against the dresser. The next moment
the hands of Mrs. Simpson were in the hair of Mr. Cooper.
"How dare you knock my husband about!" she screamed, as Mr. Cooper let
go and caught her fingers. "You've hurt him."
"Concussion, I think," said Mr. Simpson, with great presence of mind.
His wife helped him to a chair and, wetting her handkerchief at the tap,
tenderly bathed the dyed head. Mr. Cooper, breathing hard, stood by
watching until his wife touched him on the arm.
"You come off home," she said, in a hard voice. "You ain't wanted. Are
you going to stay here all night?"
"I should like to," said Mr. Cooper, wistfully.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEPPING BACKWARDS ***
***** This file should be named 12155.txt or 12155.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
Produced by David Widger
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
firstname.lastname@example.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
new filenames and etext numbers.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to
download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
download by the etext year.
(Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)
EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part
of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is
identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single
digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For
example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
or filename 24689 would be found at:
An alternative method of locating eBooks: