The Message. A. J. Dawson

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066176020

Table of Contents

       PART I THE DESCENT

       THE MESSAGE I IN THE MAKING

       II AT THE WATER'S EDGE

       III AN INTERLUDE

       IV THE LAUNCHING

       V A JOURNALIST'S EQUIPMENT

       VI A JOURNALIST'S SURROUNDINGS

       VII A GIRL AND HER FAITH

       VIII A STIRRING WEEK

       IX A STEP DOWN

       X FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI

       XI MORNING CALLERS

       XII SATURDAY NIGHT IN LONDON

       XIII THE DEMONSTRATION IN HYDE PARK

       XIV THE NEWS

       XV SUNDAY NIGHT IN LONDON

       XVI A PERSONAL REVELATION

       XVII ONE STEP FORWARD

       XVIII THE DEAR LOAF

       XIX THE TRAGIC WEEK

       XX BLACK SATURDAY

       XXI ENGLAND ASLEEP

       PART II THE AWAKENING

       I THE FIRST DAYS

       II ANCIENT LIGHTS

       III THE RETURN TO LONDON

       IV THE CONFERENCE

       V MY OWN PART

       VI PREPARATIONS

       VII THE SWORD OF THE LORD

       VIII THE PREACHERS

       IX THE CITIZENS

       X SMALL FIGURES ON A GREAT STAGE

       XI THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE

       XII BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER

       XIII ONE SUMMER MORNING

       XIV "FOR GOD, OUR RACE, AND DUTY"

       XV "SINGLE HEART AND SINGLE SWORD"

       XVI HANDS ACROSS THE SEA

       XVII THE PENALTY

       XVIII THE PEACE

       XIX THE GREAT ALLIANCE

       XX PEACE HATH HER VICTORIES

PART I

       THE DESCENT

       Table of Contents

      Non his juventus orta parentibus infecit aequor sanguine Punico.—Horace.

THE MESSAGE

       I IN THE MAKING

       Table of Contents

      "Such as I am, sir—no great subject for a boaster, I admit—you see in me a product of my time, sir, and of very worthy parents, I assure you."—Ezekiel Joy.

      As a very small lad, at home in Tarn Regis, I had but one close chum, George Stairs, and he went off with his father to Canada, while I was away for my first term at Elstree School. Then came Rugby, where I had several friends, but the chief of them was Leslie Wheeler. Just why we should have been close friends I cannot say, but I fancy it was mainly because Leslie was such a handsome fellow, and always seemed to cut a good figure in everything he did; while I, on the other hand, excelled in nothing, and was not brilliant even in the expression of my discontent, which was tolerably comprehensive. Withal, in other matters beside discontent, I was a good deal of an extremist, and by no means lacking in