Dixon’s Return by W.W. Jacobs

Produced by David Widger ODD CRAFT By W.W. Jacobs DIXON’S RETURN Talking about eddication, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, the finest eddication you can give a lad is to send ‘im to sea. School is all right up to a certain p’int, but arter that comes the sea. I’ve been there myself and I know wot
This page contains affiliate links. As Amazon Associates we earn from qualifying purchases.
Writer:
Language:
Form:
Genre:
Published:
Collection:
Tags:
Buy it on Amazon FREE Audible 30 days

Produced by David Widger

ODD CRAFT

By W.W. Jacobs

DIXON’S RETURN

Talking about eddication, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, the finest eddication you can give a lad is to send ‘im to sea. School is all right up to a certain p’int, but arter that comes the sea. I’ve been there myself and I know wot I’m talking about. All that I am I owe to ‘aving been to sea.

[Illustration: “Talking about eddication, said the night-watchman.”]

There’s a saying that boys will be boys. That’s all right till they go to sea, and then they ‘ave to be men, and good men too. They get knocked about a bit, o’ course, but that’s all part o’ the eddication, and when they get bigger they pass the eddication they’ve received on to other boys smaller than wot they are. Arter I’d been at sea a year I spent all my fust time ashore going round and looking for boys wot ‘ad knocked me about afore I sailed, and there was only one out o’ the whole lot that I wished I ‘adn’t found.

Most people, o’ course, go to sea as boys or else not at all, but I mind one chap as was pretty near thirty years old when ‘e started. It’s a good many years ago now, and he was landlord of a public-‘ouse as used to stand in Wapping, called the Blue Lion.

His mother, wot had ‘ad the pub afore ‘im, ‘ad brought ‘im up very quiet and genteel, and when she died ‘e went and married a fine, handsome young woman who ‘ad got her eye on the pub without thinking much about ‘im. I got to know about it through knowing the servant that lived there. A nice, quiet gal she was, and there wasn’t much went on that she didn’t hear. I’ve known ‘er to cry for hours with the ear-ache, pore gal.

Not caring much for ‘er ‘usband, and being spoiled by ‘im into the bargain, Mrs. Dixon soon began to lead ‘im a terrible life. She was always throwing his meekness and mildness up into ‘is face, and arter they ‘ad been married two or three years he was no more like the landlord o’ that public-‘ouse than I’m like a lord. Not so much. She used to get into such terrible tempers there was no doing anything with ‘er, and for the sake o’ peace and quietness he gave way to ‘er till ‘e got into the habit of it and couldn’t break ‘imself of it.

They ‘adn’t been married long afore she ‘ad her cousin, Charlie Burge, come in as barman, and a month or two arter that ‘is brother Bob, who ‘ad been spending a lot o’ time looking for work instead o’ doing it, came too. They was so comfortable there that their father–a ‘ouse-painter by trade–came round to see whether he couldn’t paint the Blue Lion up a bit and make ’em look smart, so that they’d get more trade. He was one o’ these ‘ere fust-class ‘ousepainters that can go to sleep on a ladder holding a brush in one hand and a pot o’ paint in the other, and by the time he ‘ad finished painting the ‘ouse it was ready to be done all over agin.

I dare say that George Dixon–that was ‘is name–wouldn’t ha’ minded so much if ‘is wife ‘ad only been civil, but instead o’ that she used to make fun of ‘im and order ‘im about, and by-and-by the others began to try the same thing. As I said afore, Dixon was a very quiet man, and if there was ever anybody to be put outside Charlie or Bob used to do it. They tried to put me outside once, the two of ’em, but they on’y did it at last by telling me that somebody ‘ad gone off and left a pot o’ beer standing on the pavement. They was both of ’em fairly strong young chaps with a lot of bounce in ’em, and she used to say to her ‘usband wot fine young fellers they was, and wot a pity it was he wasn’t like ’em.

Talk like this used to upset George Dixon awful. Having been brought up careful by ‘is mother, and keeping a very quiet, respectable ‘ouse–I used it myself–he cert’nly was soft, and I remember ‘im telling me once that he didn’t believe in fighting, and that instead of hitting people you ought to try and persuade them. He was uncommon fond of ‘is wife, but at last one day, arter she ‘ad made a laughing-stock of ‘im in the bar, he up and spoke sharp to her.

“Wot?” ses Mrs. Dixon, ‘ardly able to believe her ears.

“Remember who you’re speaking to; that’s wot I said,” ses Dixon.

“‘Ow dare you talk to me like that?” screams ‘is wife, turning red with rage. “Wot d’ye mean by it?”

“Because you seem to forget who is master ‘ere,” ses Dixon, in a trembling voice.

“Master?” she ses, firing up. “I’ll soon show you who’s master. Go out o’ my bar; I won’t ‘ave you in it. D’ye ‘ear? Go out of it.”

Dixon turned away and began to serve a customer. “D’ye hear wot I say?” ses Mrs. Dixon, stamping ‘er foot. “Go out o’ my bar. Here, Charlie!”

“Hullo!” ses ‘er cousin, who ‘ad been standing looking on and grinning.

“Take the master and put ‘im into the parlour,” ses Mrs. Dixon, “and don’t let ‘im come out till he’s begged my pardon.”

“Go on,” ses Charlie, brushing up ‘is shirt-sleeves; “in you go. You ‘ear wot she said.”

He caught ‘old of George Dixon, who ‘ad just turned to the back o’ the bar to give a customer change out of ‘arf a crown, and ran ‘im kicking and struggling into the parlour. George gave ‘im a silly little punch in the chest, and got such a bang on the ‘ead back that at fust he thought it was knocked off.

When ‘e came to ‘is senses agin the door leading to the bar was shut, and ‘is wife’s uncle, who ‘ad been asleep in the easy-chair, was finding fault with ‘im for waking ‘im up.

“Why can’t you be quiet and peaceable?” he ses, shaking his ‘ead at him. “I’ve been ‘ard at work all the morning thinking wot colour to paint the back-door, and this is the second time I’ve been woke up since dinner. You’re old enough to know better.”

“Go and sleep somewhere else, then,” ses Dixon. “I don’t want you ‘ere at all, or your boys neither. Go and give somebody else a treat; I’ve ‘ad enough of the whole pack of you.”

[Illustration: “‘Go and sleep somewhere else, then,’ ses Dixon.”]

He sat down and put ‘is feet in the fender, and old Burge, as soon as he ‘ad got ‘is senses back, went into the bar and complained to ‘is niece, and she came into the parlour like a thunderstorm.

“You’ll beg my uncle’s pardon as well as mine afore you come out o’ that room,” she said to her ‘usband; “mind that.”

George Dixon didn’t say a word; the shame of it was a’most more than ‘e could stand. Then ‘e got up to go out o’ the parlour and Charlie pushed ‘im back agin. Three times he tried, and then ‘e stood up and looked at ‘is wife.

“I’ve been a good ‘usband to you,” he ses; “but there’s no satisfying you. You ought to ha’ married somebody that would ha’ knocked you about, and then you’d ha’ been happy. I’m too fond of a quiet life to suit you.”

“Are you going to beg my pardon and my uncle’s pardon?” ses ‘is wife, stamping ‘er foot.

“No,” ses Dixon; “I am not. I’m surprised at you asking it.”

“Well, you don’t come out o’ this room till you do,” ses ‘is wife.

“That won’t hurt me,” ses Dixon. “I couldn’t look anybody in the face arter being pushed out o’ my own bar.”

They kept ‘im there all the rest o’ the day, and, as ‘e was still obstinate when bedtime came, Mrs. Dixon, who wasn’t to be beat, brought down some bedclothes and ‘ad a bed made up for ‘im on the sofa. Some men would ha’ ‘ad the police in for less than that, but George Dixon ‘ad got a great deal o’ pride and ‘e couldn’t bear the shame of it. Instead o’ that ‘e acted like a fourteen-year-old boy and ran away to sea.

They found ‘im gone when they came down in the morning, and the side-door on the latch. He ‘ad left a letter for ‘is wife on the table, telling ‘er wot he ‘ad done. Short and sweet it was, and wound up with telling ‘er to be careful that her uncle and cousins didn’t eat ‘er out of house and ‘ome.

She got another letter two days arterward, saying that he ‘ad shipped as ordinary seaman on an American barque called the _Seabird,_ bound for California, and that ‘e expected to be away a year, or thereabouts.

“It’ll do ‘im good,” ses old Burge, when Mrs. Dixon read the letter to ’em. “It’s a ‘ard life is the sea, and he’ll appreciate his ‘ome when ‘e comes back to it agin. He don’t know when ‘e’s well off. It’s as comfortable a ‘ome as a man could wish to ‘ave.” It was surprising wot a little difference George Dixon’s being away made to the Blue Lion. Nobody seemed to miss ‘im much, and things went on just the same as afore he went. Mrs. Dixon was all right with most people, and ‘er relations ‘ad a very good time of it; old Burge began to put on flesh at such a rate that the sight of a ladder made ‘im ill a’most, and Charlie and Bob went about as if the place belonged to ’em.

They ‘eard nothing for eight months, and then a letter came for Mrs. Dixon from her ‘usband in which he said that ‘e had left the _Seabird_ after ‘aving had a time which made ‘im shiver to think of. He said that the men was the roughest of the rough and the officers was worse, and that he ‘ad hardly ‘ad a day without a blow from one or the other since he’d been aboard. He’d been knocked down with a hand-spike by the second mate, and had ‘ad a week in his bunk with a kick given ‘im by the boatswain. He said ‘e was now on the _Rochester Castle,_ bound for Sydney, and he ‘oped for better times.

That was all they ‘eard for some months, and then they got another letter saying that the men on the _Rochester Castle_ was, if anything, worse than those on the Seabird, and that he’d begun to think that running away to sea was diff’rent to wot he’d expected, and that he supposed ‘e’d done it too late in life. He sent ‘is love to ‘is wife and asked ‘er as a favour to send Uncle Burge and ‘is boys away, as ‘e didn’t want to find them there when ‘e came home, because they was the cause of all his sufferings.

“He don’t know ‘is best friends,” ses old Burge. “‘E’s got a nasty sperrit I don’t like to see.”

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im when ‘e does come home,” ses Bob. “I s’pose he thinks ‘imself safe writing letters thousands o’ miles away.”

The last letter they ‘ad came from Auckland, and said that he ‘ad shipped on the _Monarch,_ bound for the Albert Docks, and he ‘oped soon to be at ‘ome and managing the Blue Lion, same as in the old happy days afore he was fool enough to go to sea.

That was the very last letter, and some time arterward the _Monarch_ was in the missing list, and by-and-by it became known that she ‘ad gone down with all hands not long arter leaving New Zealand. The only difference it made at the Blue Lion was that Mrs. Dixon ‘ad two of ‘er dresses dyed black, and the others wore black neckties for a fortnight and spoke of Dixon as pore George, and said it was a funny world, but they supposed everything was for the best.

It must ha’ been pretty near four years since George Dixon ‘ad run off to sea when Charlie, who was sitting in the bar one arternoon reading the paper, things being dull, saw a man’s head peep through the door for a minute and then disappear. A’most direckly arterward it looked in at another door and then disappeared agin. When it looked in at the third door Charlie ‘ad put down ‘is paper and was ready for it.

“Who are you looking for?” he ses, rather sharp. “Wot d’ye want? Are you ‘aving a game of peepbo, or wot?”

The man coughed and smiled, and then ‘e pushed the door open gently and came in, and stood there fingering ‘is beard as though ‘e didn’t know wot to say.

“I’ve come back, Charlie,” he ses at last.

“Wot, George!” ses Charlie, starting. “Why, I didn’t know you in that beard. We all thought you was dead, years ago.”

“I was pretty nearly, Charlie,” ses Dixon, shaking his ‘ead. “Ah! I’ve ‘ad a terrible time since I left ‘once.”

“‘You don’t seem to ha’ made your fortune,” ses Charlie, looking down at ‘is clothes. “I’d ha’ been ashamed to come ‘ome like that if it ‘ad been me.”

“I’m wore out,” ses Dixon, leaning agin the bar. “I’ve got no pride left; it’s all been knocked out of me. How’s Julia?”

“She’s all right,” ses Charlie. “Here, Ju–“

“H’sh!” ses Dixon, reaching over the bar and laying his ‘and on his arm. “Don’t let ‘er know too sudden; break it to ‘er gently.”

“Fiddlesticks!” ses Charlie, throwing his ‘and off and calling, “Here, Julia! He’s come back.”

Mrs. Dixon came running downstairs and into the bar. “Good gracious!” she ses, staring at her ‘us-band. “Whoever’d ha’ thought o’ seeing you agin? Where ‘ave you sprung from?”

“Ain’t you glad to see me, Julia?” ses George Dixon.

“Yes, I s’pose so; if you’ve come back to behave yourself,” ses Mrs. Dixon. “What ‘ave you got to say for yourself for running away and then writing them letters, telling me to get rid of my relations?”

“That’s a long time ago, Julia,” ses Dixon, raising the flap in the counter and going into the bar. “I’ve gone through a great deal o’ suffering since then. I’ve been knocked about till I ‘adn’t got any feeling left in me; I’ve been shipwrecked, and I’ve ‘ad to fight for my life with savages.”

“Nobody asked you to run away,” ses his wife, edging away as he went to put his arm round ‘er waist. “You’d better go upstairs and put on some decent clothes.”

[Illustration: “You’d better go upstairs and put on some decent clothes.”]

Dixon looked at ‘er for a moment and then he ‘ung his ‘ead.

“I’ve been thinking o’ you and of seeing you agin every day since I went away, Julia,” he ses. “You’d be the same to me if you was dressed in rags.”

He went upstairs without another word, and old Burge, who was coming down, came down five of ’em at once owing to Dixon speaking to ‘im afore he knew who ‘e was. The old man was still grumbling when Dixon came down agin, and said he believed he’d done it a-purpose.

“You run away from a good ‘ome,” he ses, “and the best wife in Wapping, and you come back and frighten people ‘arf out o’ their lives. I never see such a feller in all my born days.”

“I was so glad to get ‘ome agin I didn’t think,” ses Dixon. “I hope you’re not ‘urt.”

He started telling them all about his ‘ardships while they were at tea, but none of ’em seemed to care much about hearing ’em. Bob said that the sea was all right for men, and that other people were sure not to like it.

“And you brought it all on yourself,” ses Charlie. “You’ve only got yourself to thank for it. I ‘ad thought o’ picking a bone with you over those letters you wrote.”

“Let’s ‘ope ‘e’s come back more sensible than wot ‘e was when ‘e went away,” ses old Burge, with ‘is mouth full o’ toast.

By the time he’d been back a couple o’ days George Dixon could see that ‘is going away ‘adn’t done any good at all. Nobody seemed to take any notice of ‘im or wot he said, and at last, arter a word or two with Charlie about the rough way he spoke to some o’ the customers, Charlie came in to Mrs. Dixon and said that he was at ‘is old tricks of interfering, and he would not ‘ave it.

“Well, he’d better keep out o’ the bar altogether,” ses Mrs. Dixon. “There’s no need for ‘im to go there; we managed all right while ‘e was away.”

“Do you mean I’m not to go into my own bar?” ses Dixon, stammering.

“Yes, I do,” ses Mrs. Dixon. “You kept out of it for four years to please yourself, and now you can keep out of it to please me.”

“I’ve put you out o’ the bar before,” ses Charlie, “and if you come messing about with me any more I’ll do it agin. So now you know.”

He walked back into the bar whistling, and George Dixon, arter sitting still for a long time thinking, got up and went into the bar, and he’d ‘ardly got his foot inside afore Charlie caught ‘old of ‘im by the shoulder and shoved ‘im back into the parlour agin.

“I told you wot it would be,” ses Mrs. Dixon, looking up from ‘er sewing. “You’ve only got your interfering ways to thank for it.”

“This is a fine state of affairs in my own ‘ouse,” ses Dixon, ‘ardly able to speak. “You’ve got no proper feeling for your husband, Julia, else you wouldn’t allow it. Why, I was happier at sea than wot I am ‘ere.”

“Well, you’d better go back to it if you’re so fond of it,” ses ‘is wife.

“I think I ‘ad,” ses Dixon. “If I can’t be master in my own ‘ouse I’m better at sea, hard as it is. You must choose between us, Julia–me or your relations. I won’t sleep under the same roof as them for another night. Am I to go?”

“Please yourself,” ses ‘is wife. “I don’t mind your staying ‘ere so long as you behave yourself, but the others won’t go; you can make your mind easy on that.”

“I’ll go and look for another ship, then,” ses Dixon, taking up ‘is cap. “I’m not wanted here. P’r’aps you wouldn’t mind ‘aving some clothes packed into a chest for me so as I can go away decent.”

He looked round at ‘is wife, as though ‘e expected she’d ask ‘im not to go, but she took no notice, and he opened the door softly and went out, while old Burge, who ‘ad come into the room and ‘eard what he was saying, trotted off upstairs to pack ‘is chest for ‘im.

In two hours ‘e was back agin and more cheerful than he ‘ad been since he ‘ad come ‘ome. Bob was in the bar and the others were just sitting down to tea, and a big chest, nicely corded, stood on the floor in the corner of the room.

“That’s right,” he ses, looking at it; “that’s just wot I wanted.”

“It’s as full as it can be,” ses old Burge. “I done it for you myself. ‘Ave you got a ship?”

“I ‘ave,” ses Dixon. “A jolly good ship. No more hardships for me this time. I’ve got a berth as captain.”

“Wot?” ses ‘is wife. “Captain? You!”

“Yes,” ses Dixon, smiling at her. “You can sail with me if you like.”

“Thankee,” ses Mrs. Dixon, “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”

“Do you mean to say you’ve got a master’s berth?” ses Charlie, staring at ‘im.

“I do,” ses Dixon; “master and owner.”

Charlie coughed. “Wot’s the name of the ship?” he asks, winking at the others.

“The BLUE LION,” ses Dixon, in a voice that made ’em all start. “I’m shipping a new crew and I pay off the old one to-night. You first, my lad.”

“Pay off,” ses Charlie, leaning back in ‘is chair and staring at ‘im in a puzzled way. “Blue Lion?”

“Yes,” ses Dixon, in the same loud voice. “When I came ‘ome the other day I thought p’r’aps I’d let bygones be bygones, and I laid low for a bit to see whether any of you deserved it. I went to sea to get hardened–and I got hard. I’ve fought men that would eat you at a meal. I’ve ‘ad more blows in a week than you’ve ‘ad in a lifetime, you fat-faced land-lubber.”

He walked to the door leading to the bar, where Bob was doing ‘is best to serve customers and listen at the same time, and arter locking it put the key in ‘is pocket. Then ‘e put his ‘and in ‘is pocket and slapped some money down on the table in front o’ Charlie.

“There’s a month’s pay instead o’ notice,” he ses. “Now git.”

“George!” screams ‘is wife. “‘Ow dare you? ‘Ave you gone crazy?”

“I’m surprised at you,” ses old Burge, who’d been looking on with ‘is mouth wide open, and pinching ‘imself to see whether ‘e wasn’t dreaming.

“I don’t go for your orders,” ses Charlie, getting up. “Wot d’ye mean by locking that door?”

“Wot!” roars Dixon. “Hang it! I mustn’t lock a door without asking my barman now. Pack up and be off, you swab, afore I start on you.”

Charlie gave a growl and rushed at ‘im, and the next moment ‘e was down on the floor with the ‘ardest bang in the face that he’d ever ‘ad in ‘is life. Mrs. Dixon screamed and ran into the kitchen, follered by old Burge, who went in to tell ‘er not to be frightened. Charlie got up and went for Dixon agin; but he ‘ad come back as ‘ard as nails and ‘ad a rushing style o’ fighting that took Charlie’s breath away. By the time Bob ‘ad left the bar to take care of itself, and run round and got in the back way, Charlie had ‘ad as much as ‘e wanted and was lying on the sea-chest in the corner trying to get ‘is breath.

[Illustration: “Charlie had ‘ad as much as ‘e wanted and was lying on the sea-chest.”]

“Yes? Wot d’ye want?” ses Dixon, with a growl, as Bob came in at the door.

He was such a ‘orrible figure, with the blood on ‘is face and ‘is beard sticking out all ways, that Bob, instead of doing wot he ‘ad come round for, stood in the doorway staring at ‘im without a word.

“I’m paying off,” ses Dixon. “‘Ave you got any-thing to say agin it?”

“No,” ses Bob, drawing back.

“You and Charlie’ll go now,” ses Dixon, taking out some money. “The old man can stay on for a month to give ‘im time to look round. Don’t look at me that way, else I’ll knock your ‘ead off.”

He started counting out Bob’s money just as old Burge and Mrs. Dixon, hearing all quiet, came in out of the kitchen.

“Don’t you be alarmed on my account, my dear,” he ses, turning to ‘is wife; “it’s child’s play to wot I’ve been used to. I’ll just see these two mistaken young fellers off the premises, and then we’ll ‘ave a cup o’ tea while the old man minds the bar.”

Mrs. Dixon tried to speak, but ‘er temper was too much for ‘er. She looked from her ‘usband to Charlie and Bob and then back at ‘im agin and caught ‘er breath.

“That’s right,” ses Dixon, nodding his ‘ead at her. “I’m master and owner of the Blue Lion and you’re first mate. When I’m speaking you keep quiet; that’s dissipline.”

I was in that bar about three months arterward, and I never saw such a change in any woman as there was in Mrs. Dixon. Of all the nice-mannered, soft-spoken landladies I’ve ever seen, she was the best, and on’y to ‘ear the way she answered her ‘usband when he spoke to ‘er was a pleasure to every married man in the bar.

[Illustration: “The way she answered her ‘usband was a pleasure to every married man in the bar.”]

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIXON’S RETURN ***

***** This file should be named 12210.txt or 12210.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.net/1/2/2/1/12210/

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, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to 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 redistribution.

*** 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 http://gutenberg.net/license).

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 States.

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 Gutenberg-tm License.

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.

1.F.

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 your equipment.

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 DAMAGE.

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 business@pglaf.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
gbnewby@pglaf.org

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:

http://www.gutenberg.net

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.

http://www.gutenberg.net/etext06

(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:

http://www.gutenberg.net/1/0/2/3/10234

or filename 24689 would be found at:
http://www.gutenberg.net/2/4/6/8/24689

An alternative method of locating eBooks: http://www.gutenberg.net/GUTINDEX.ALL