Produced by David Widger
by W.W. Jacobs
“Handsome is as ‘andsome does,” said the night-watchman. It’s an old saying, but it’s true. Give a chap good looks, and it’s precious little else that is given to ‘im. He’s lucky when ‘is good looks ‘ave gorn–or partly gorn–to get a berth as night-watchman or some other hard and bad-paid job.
One drawback to a good-looking man is that he generally marries young; not because ‘e wants to, but because somebody else wants ‘im to. And that ain’t the worst of it: the handsomest chap I ever knew married five times, and got seven years for it. It wasn’t his fault, pore chap; he simply couldn’t say No.
One o’ the best-looking men I ever knew was Cap’n Bill Smithers, wot used to come up here once a week with a schooner called the Wild Rose. Funny thing about ‘im was he didn’t seem to know about ‘is good looks, and he was one o’ the quietest, best-behaved men that ever came up the London river. Considering that he was mistook for me more than once, it was just as well.
He didn’t marry until ‘e was close on forty; and then ‘e made the mistake of marrying a widder-woman. She was like all the rest of ’em– only worse. Afore she was married butter wouldn’t melt in ‘er mouth, but as soon as she ‘ad got her “lines” safe she began to make up for it.
For the fust month or two ‘e didn’t mind it, ‘e rather liked being fussed arter, but when he found that he couldn’t go out for arf an hour without having ‘er with ‘im he began to get tired of it. Her idea was that ‘e was too handsome to be trusted out alone; and every trip he made ‘e had to write up in a book, day by day, wot ‘e did with himself. Even then she wasn’t satisfied, and, arter saying that a wife’s place was by the side of ‘er husband, she took to sailing with ‘im every v’y’ge.
Wot he could ha’ seen in ‘er I don’t know. I asked ‘im one evening–in a roundabout way–and he answered in such a long, roundabout way that I didn’t know wot to make of it till I see that she was standing just behind me, listening. Arter that I heard ‘er asking questions about me, but I didn’t ‘ave to listen: I could hear ‘er twenty yards away, and singing to myself at the same time.
Arter that she treated me as if I was the dirt beneath ‘er feet. She never spoke to me, but used to speak against me to other people. She was always talking to them about the “sleeping-sickness” and things o’ that kind. She said night-watchmen always made ‘er think of it somehow, but she didn’t know why, and she couldn’t tell you if you was to ask her. The only thing I was thankful for was that I wasn’t ‘er husband. She stuck to ‘im like his shadow, and I began to think at last it was a pity she ‘adn’t got some thing to be jealous about and something to occupy her mind with instead o’ me.
“She ought to ‘ave a lesson,” I ses to the skipper one evening. “Are you going to be follered about like this all your life? If she was made to see the foolishness of ‘er ways she might get sick of it.”
My idea was to send her on a wild-goose chase, and while the Wild Rose was away I thought it out. I wrote a love-letter to the skipper signed with the name of “Dorothy,” and asked ‘im to meet me at Cleopatra’s Needle on the Embankment at eight o’clock on Wednesday. I told ‘im to look out for a tall girl (Mrs. Smithers was as short as they make ’em) with mischievous brown eyes, in a blue ‘at with red roses on it.
I read it over careful, and arter marking it “Private,” twice in front and once on the back, I stuck it down so that it could be blown open a’most, and waited for the schooner to come back. Then I gave a van-boy twopence to ‘and it to Mrs. Smithers, wot was sitting on the deck alone, and tell ‘er it was a letter for Captain Smithers.
I was busy with a barge wot happened to be handy at the time, but I ‘eard her say that she would take it and give it to ‘im. When I peeped round she ‘ad got the letter open and was leaning over the side to wind’ard trying to get ‘er breath. Every now and then she’d give another look at the letter and open ‘er mouth and gasp; but by and by she got calmer, and, arter putting it back in the envelope, she gave it a lick as though she was going to bite it, and stuck it down agin. Then she went off the wharf, and I’m blest if, five minutes arterwards, a young fellow didn’t come down to the ship with the same letter and ask for the skipper.
“Who gave it you?” ses the skipper, as soon as ‘e could speak.
“A lady,” ses the young fellow.
The skipper waved ‘im away, and then ‘e walked up and down the deck like a man in a dream.
“Bad news?” I ses, looking up and catching ‘is eye.
“No,” he ses, “no. Only a note about a couple o’ casks o’ soda.”
He stuffed the letter in ‘is pocket and sat on the side smoking till his wife came back in five minutes’ time, smiling all over with good temper.
“It’s a nice evening,” she ses, “and I think I’ll just run over to Dalston and see my Cousin Joe.”
The skipper got up like a lamb and said he’d go and clean ‘imself.
“You needn’t come if you feel tired,” she ses, smiling at ‘im.
The skipper could ‘ardly believe his ears.
“I do feel tired,” he ses. “I’ve had a heavy day, and I feel more like bed than anything else.”
“You turn in, then,” she ses. “I’ll be all right by myself.”
She went down and tidied herself up–not that it made much difference to ‘er–and, arter patting him on the arm and giving me a stare that would ha’ made most men blink, she took herself off.
I was pretty busy that evening. Wot with shifting lighters from under the jetty and sweeping up, it was pretty near ha’-past seven afore I ‘ad a minute I could call my own. I put down the broom at last, and was just thinking of stepping round to the Bull’s Head for a ‘arf-pint when I see Cap’n Smithers come off the ship on to the wharf and walk to the gate.
“I thought you was going to turn in?” I ses.
“I did think of it,” he ses, “then I thought p’r’aps I’d better stroll as far as Broad Street and meet my wife.”
It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I’d a pretty good idea where she ‘ad gorn; and it wasn’t Dalston.
“Come in and ‘ave ‘arf a pint fust,” I ses.
“No; I shall be late,” he ses, hurrying off.
I went in and ‘ad a glass by myself, and stood there so long thinking of Mrs. Smithers walking up and down by Cleopatra’s Needle that at last the landlord fust asked me wot I was laughing at, and then offered to make me laugh the other side of my face. And then he wonders why people go to the Albion.
I locked the gate rather earlier than usual that night. Sometimes if I’m up that end I leave it a bit late, but I didn’t want Mrs. Smithers to come along and nip in without me seeing her face.
It was ten o’clock afore I heard the bell go, and when I opened the wicket and looked out I was surprised to see that she ‘ad got the skipper with ‘er. And of all the miserable-looking objects I ever saw in my life he was the worst. She ‘ad him tight by the arm, and there was a look on ‘er face that a’most scared me.
“Did you go all the way to Dalston for her?” I ses to ‘im.
Mrs. Smithers made a gasping sort o’ noise, but the skipper didn’t answer a word.
She shoved him in in front of ‘er and stood ever ‘im while he climbed aboard. When he held out ‘is hand to help ‘er she struck it away.
I didn’t get word with ‘im till five o’clock next morning, when he came up on deck with his ‘air all rough and ‘is eyes red for want of sleep.
“Haven’t ‘ad a wink all night,” he ses, stepping on to the wharf.
I gave a little cough. “Didn’t she ‘ave a pleasant time at Dalston?” I ses.
He walked a little further off from the ship. “She didn’t go there,” he ses, in a whisper.
“You’ve got something on your mind,” I ses. “Wot is it?”
He wouldn’t tell me at fust, but at last he told me all about the letter from Dorothy, and ‘is wife reading it unbeknown to ‘im and going to meet ‘er.
“It was an awful meeting!” he ses. “Awful!”
I couldn’t think wot to make of it. “Was the gal there, then?” I ses, staring at ‘im.
“No,” ses the skipper; “but I was.”
“You?” I ses, starting back. “You! Wot for? I’m surprised at you! I wouldn’t ha’ believed it of you!”
“I felt a bit curious,” he ses, with a silly sort o’ smile. “But wot I can’t understand is why the gal didn’t turn up.”
“I’m ashamed of you, Bill,” I ses, very severe.
“P’r’aps she did,” he ses, ‘arf to ‘imself, “and then saw my missis standing there waiting. P’r’aps that was it.”
“Or p’r’aps it was somebody ‘aving a game with you,” I ses.
“You’re getting old, Bill,” he ses, very short. “You don’t understand. It’s some pore gal that’s took a fancy to me, and it’s my dooty to meet ‘er and tell her ‘ow things are.”
He walked off with his ‘ead in the air, and if ‘e took that letter out once and looked at it, he did five times.
“Chuck it away,” I ses, going up to him.
“Certainly not,” he ses, folding it up careful and stowing it away in ‘is breastpocket. “She’s took a fancy to me, and it’s my dooty—-“
“You said that afore,” I ses.
He stared at me nasty for a moment, and then ‘e ses: “You ain’t seen any young lady hanging about ‘ere, I suppose, Bill? A tall young lady with a blue hat trimmed with red roses?”
I shook my ‘ead.
“If you should see ‘er” he ses.
“I’ll tell your missis,” I ses. “It ‘ud be much easier for her to do her dooty properly than it would you. She’d enjoy doing it, too.”
He went off agin then, and I thought he ‘ad done with me, but he ‘adn’t. He spoke to me that evening as if I was the greatest friend he ‘ad in the world. I ‘ad two ‘arfpints with ‘im at the Albion–with his missis walking up and down outside–and arter the second ‘arf-pint he said he wanted to meet Dorothy and tell ‘er that ‘e was married, and that he ‘oped she would meet some good man that was worthy of ‘er.
I had a week’s peace while the ship was away, but she was hardly made fast afore I ‘ad it all over agin and agin.
“Are you sure there’s been no more letters?” he ses.
“Sartain,” I ses.
“That’s right,” he ses; “that’s right. And you ‘aven’t seen her walking up and down?”
“No,” I ses.
“‘Ave you been on the look-out?” he ses. “I don’t suppose a nice gal like that would come and shove her ‘ead in at the gate. Did you look up and down the road?”
“Yes,” I ses. “I’ve fair made my eyes ache watching for her.”
“I can’t understand it,” he ses. “It’s a mystery to me, unless p’r’aps she’s been taken ill. She must ‘ave seen me here in the fust place; and she managed to get hold of my name. Mark my words, I shall ‘ear from her agin.”
“‘Ow do you know?” I ses.
“I feel it ‘ere,” he ses, very solemn, laying his ‘and on his chest.
I didn’t know wot to do. Wot with ‘is foolishness and his missis’s temper, I see I ‘ad made a mess of it. He told me she had ‘ardly spoke a word to ‘im for two days, and when I said–being a married man myself –that it might ha’ been worse, ‘e said I didn’t know wot I was talking about.
I did a bit o’ thinking arter he ‘ad gorn aboard agin. I dursn’t tell ‘im that I ‘ad wrote the letter, but I thought if he ‘ad one or two more he’d see that some one was ‘aving a game with ‘im, and that it might do ‘im good. Besides which it was a little amusement for me.
Arter everybody was in their beds asleep I sat on a clerk’s stool in the office and wrote ‘im another letter from Dorothy. I called ‘im “Dear Bill,” and I said ‘ow sorry I was that I ‘adn’t had even a sight of ‘im lately, having been laid up with a sprained ankle and ‘ad only just got about agin. I asked ‘im to meet me at Cleopatra’s Needle at eight o’clock, and said that I should wear the blue ‘at with red roses.
It was a very good letter, but I can see now that I done wrong in writing it. I was going to post it to ‘im, but, as I couldn’t find an envelope without the name of the blessed wharf on it, I put it in my pocket till I got ‘ome.
I got ‘ome at about a quarter to seven, and slept like a child till pretty near four. Then I went downstairs to ‘ave my dinner.
The moment I opened the door I see there was something wrong. Three times my missis licked ‘er lips afore she could speak. Her face ‘ad gone a dirty white colour, and she was leaning forward with her ‘ands on her ‘ips, trembling all over with temper.
“Is my dinner ready?” I ses, easy-like. “‘Cos I’m ready for it.”
“I–I wonder I don’t tear you limb from limb,” she ses, catching her breath.
“Wot’s the matter?” I ses.
“And then boil you,” she ses, between her teeth. “You in one pot and your precious Dorothy in another.”
If anybody ‘ad offered me five pounds to speak then, I couldn’t ha’ done it. I see wot I’d done in a flash, and I couldn’t say a word; but I kept my presence o’ mind, and as she came round one side o’ the table I went round the other.
“Wot ‘ave you got to say for yourself?” she ses, with a scream.
“Nothing,” I ses, at last. “It’s all a mistake.”
“Mistake?” she ses. “Yes, you made a mistake leaving it in your pocket; that’s all the mistake you’ve made. That’s wot you do, is it, when you’re supposed to be at the wharf? Go about with a blue ‘at with red roses in it! At your time o’ life, and a wife at ‘ome working herself to death to make both ends meet and keep you respectable!”
“It’s all a mistake,” I ses. “The letter wasn’t for me.”
“Oh, no, o’ course not,” she ses. “That’s why you’d got it in your pocket, I suppose. And I suppose you’ll say your name ain’t Bill next.”
“Don’t say things you’ll be sorry for,” I ses.
“I’ll take care o’ that,” she ses. “I might be sorry for not saying some things, but I don’t think I shall.”
I don’t think she was. I don’t think she forgot anything, and she raked up things that I ‘ad contradicted years ago and wot I thought was all forgot. And every now and then, when she stopped for breath, she’d try and get round to the same side of the table I was.
She follered me to the street door when I went and called things up the road arter me. I ‘ad a snack at a coffee-shop for my dinner, but I ‘adn’t got much appetite for it; I was too full of trouble and finding fault with myself, and I went off to my work with a ‘art as heavy as lead.
I suppose I ‘adn’t been on the wharf ten minutes afore Cap’n Smithers came sidling up to me, but I got my spoke in fust.
“Look ‘ere,” I ses, “if you’re going to talk about that forward hussy wot’s been writing to you, I ain’t. I’m sick and tired of ‘er.”
“Forward hussy!” he ses. “Forward hussy!” And afore I could drop my broom he gave me a punch in the jaw that pretty near broke it. “Say another word against her,” he ses, “and I’ll knock your ugly ‘ead off. How dare you insult a lady?”
I thought I should ‘ave gone crazy at fust, but I went off into the office without a word. Some men would ha’ knocked ‘im down for it, but I made allowances for ‘is state o’ mind, and I stayed inside until I see ‘im get aboard agin.
He was sitting on deck when I went out, and his missis too, but neither of ’em spoke a word. I picked up my broom and went on sweeping, when suddenly I ‘eard a voice at the gate I thought I knew, and in came my wife.
“Ho!” she ses, calling out. “Ain’t you gone to meet that gal at Cleopatra’s Needle yet? You ain’t going to keep ‘er waiting, are you?”
“H’sh!” I ses.
“H’sh! yourself,” she ses, shouting. “I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t go to meet other people’s husbands in a blue ‘at with red roses. I don’t write ’em love-letters, and say ‘H’sh!’ to my wife when she ventures to make a remark about it. I may work myself to skin and bone for a man wot’s old enough to know better, but I’m not going to be trod on. Dorothy, indeed! I’ll Dorothy ‘er if I get the chance.”
Mrs. Smithers, wot ‘ad been listening with all her ears, jumped up, and so did the skipper, and Mrs. Smithers came to the side in two steps.
“Did you say ‘Dorothy,’ ma’am?” she ses to my missis.
“I did,” ses my wife. “She’s been writing to my husband.”
“It must be the same one,” ses Mrs. Smithers. “She’s been writing to mine too.”
The two of ’em stood there looking at each other for a minute, and then my wife, holding the letter between ‘er finger and thumb as if it was pison, passed it to Mrs. Smithers.
“It’s the same,” ses Mrs. Smithers. “Was the envelope marked ‘Private’?”
“I didn’t see no envelope,” ses my missis. “This is all I found.”
Mrs. Smithers stepped on to the wharf and, taking ‘old of my missis by the arm, led her away whispering. At the same moment the skipper walked across the deck and whispered to me.
“Wot d’ye mean by it?” he ses. “Wot d’ye mean by ‘aving letters from Dorothy and not telling me about it?”
“I can’t help ‘aving letters any more than you can,” I ses. “Now p’r’aps you’ll understand wot I meant by calling ‘er a forward hussy.”
“Fancy ‘er writing to you!” he ses, wrinkling ‘is forehead. “Pph! She must be crazy.”
“P’r’aps it ain’t a gal at all,” I ses. “My belief is somebody is ‘aving a game with us.”
“Don’t be a fool,” he ses. “I’d like to see the party as would make a fool of me like that. Just see ‘im and get my ‘ands on him. He wouldn’t want to play any more games.”
It was no good talking to ‘im. He was ‘arf crazy with temper. If I’d said the letter was meant for ‘im he’d ‘ave asked me wot I meant by opening it and getting ‘im into more trouble with ‘is missis, instead of giving it to ‘im on the quiet. I just stood and suffered in silence, and thought wot a lot of ‘arm eddication did for people.
“I want some money,” ses my missis, coming back at last with Mrs. Smithers.
That was the way she always talked when she’d got me in ‘er power. She took two-and-tenpence–all I’d got–and then she ordered me to go and get a cab.
“Me and this lady are going to meet her,” she ses, sniffing at me.
“And tell her wot we think of ‘er,” ses Mrs. Smithers, sniffing too.
“And wot we’ll do to ‘er,” ses my missis.
I left ’em standing side by side, looking at the skipper as if ‘e was a waxworks, while I went to find a cab. When I came back they was in the same persition, and ‘e was smoking with ‘is eyes shut.
They went off side by side in the cab, both of ’em sitting bolt-upright, and only turning their ‘eads at the last moment to give us looks we didn’t want.
“I don’t wish her no ‘arm,” ses the skipper, arter thinking for a long time. “Was that the fust letter you ‘ad from ‘er, Bill?”
“Fust and last,” I ses, grinding my teeth.
“I hope they won’t meet ‘er, pore thing,” he ses.
“I’ve been married longer than wot you have,” I ses, “and I tell you one thing. It won’t make no difference to us whether they do or they don’t,” I ses.
And it didn’t.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNKNOWN ***
***** This file should be named 12157.txt or 12157.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.net/1/2/1/5/12157/
Produced by David Widger
Updated editions will replace the previous one–the old editions will be renamed.
*** 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.
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 email@example.com. 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: http://www.gutenberg.net/GUTINDEX.ALL