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-<?xml version="1.0"?>
-<!DOCTYPE TEI.2 SYSTEM "teixlite.dtd">
-<TEI.2>
- <teiHeader>
- <fileDesc>
- <titleStmt>
- <title>This and that</title>
- </titleStmt>
- <publicationStmt>
- <p> </p>
- </publicationStmt>
- <sourceDesc>
- <p></p>
- </sourceDesc>
- </fileDesc>
- <revisionDesc>
- <list>
- <item><date>October 10th 1999</date>Initial version</item>
- </list>
- </revisionDesc>
- </teiHeader>
- <text>
-<front>
- <docTitle>
- <titlePart type="main">Texts for beginners</titlePart>
- </docTitle>
-<docAuthor>A N Other</docAuthor>
-<docDate>October 10th 1999</docDate>
-</front>
-<body>
-
-<div><head>The table in section 1</head>
-<p>
-Over the whine of the electric mixer, Mara heard her name called, but she
-didn't bother to acknowledge it. Instead she added more sugar to the egg
-whites and continued to beat them until they formed stiff peaks. She was
-spooning the meringue on to the pie filling when she heard the hum of the
-wheelchair approaching the kitchen.
-</p><p>
-`Mara, the mailman just drove by.' The chair rolled to a stop inside the
-room. `I'm expecting some correspondence from Fitzgerald. Will you see if
-it's come?'
-</p><p>
-Mara didn't turn around. I'm busy at the moment, Adam.' She continued to
-spread the meringue thickly over the pie, ignoring the instant of tense
-silence.
-</p>
-<div><head>The table in section 1</head>
-<q rend="display">
-<table cols="3" rend="inline">
-<row><cell cols="3">AT&amp;T Common Stock</cell></row>
-<row><cell>Year </cell><cell> Price</cell><cell>Dividend</cell></row>
-<row><cell>1971</cell><cell>41--54</cell><cell>$2.60</cell></row>
-<row><cell> 2</cell><cell>41--54</cell><cell>2.70</cell></row>
-<row><cell> 3</cell><cell>46--55</cell><cell>2.87</cell></row>
-<row><cell> 4</cell><cell>40--53</cell><cell>3.24</cell></row>
-<row><cell> 5</cell><cell>45--52</cell><cell>3.40</cell></row>
-<row><cell> 6</cell><cell>51--59</cell><cell>.95*</cell></row>
-<row><cell cols="3">(* first quarter only)</cell></row>
-</table>
-</q>
-
-<eg>
-<![CDATA[
-<xsl:template match="eg">
- <fo:block font-family="{$typewriterFont}"
- white-space-collapse="false"
- wrap-option="no-wrap"
- text-indent="0em"
- start-indent="{$exampleMargin}"
- text-align="start"
- font-size="{$exampleSize}"
- background="red"
- color="white"
- space-before.optimum="4pt"
- space-after.optimum="4pt"
- >
- <xsl:value-of select="translate(.,' ','&#160;')"/>
- </fo:block>
-</xsl:template>
-]]>
-</eg>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div><head>LOOMINGS</head>
-
-<p>Call me Ishmael. Some years ago&#8212;never mind how long
-precisely &#8212;having little or no money in my purse, and nothing
-particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a
-little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of
-driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I
-find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp,
-drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily
-pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every
-funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper
-hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me
-from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking
-people's hats off&#8212;then, I account it high time to get to sea as
-soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a
-philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly
-take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but
-knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish
-very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me. There now is
-your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian
-isles by coral reefs&#8212;commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right
-and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme down-town is
-the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by
-breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look
-at the crowds of water-gazers there. Circumambulate the city of a
-dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and
-from thence, by Whitehall northward. What do you see?&#8212;Posted
-like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon
-thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against
-the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the
-bulwarks glasses! of ships from China; some high aloft in the
-rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these
-are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster&#8212;tied
-to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this?
-Are the green fields gone? What do they here? But look! here come
-more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a
-dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of
-the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not
-suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly
-can without falling in. And there they stand&#8212;miles of
-them&#8212;leagues. </p>
-
-<p> Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and
-avenues, &#8212;north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all
-unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the
-compasses of all those ships attract them thither? Once more. Say,
-you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any
-path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and
-leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let
-the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest
-reveries&#8212;stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and
-he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that
-region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try
-this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a
-metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water
-are wedded for ever.
- But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest,
-shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all
-the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There
-stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a
-crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his
-cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into
-distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of
-mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies
-thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like
-leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the
-shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit
-the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade
-knee-deep among Tiger-lilies&#8212;what is the one charm wanting?
-&#8212;Water &#8212;there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara
-but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see
-it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two
-handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he
-sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway
-Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy
-soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your
-first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical
-vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of
-sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did
-the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely
-all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that
-story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting,
-mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned.
-But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is
-the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to
-it all. Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea
-whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over
-conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever
-go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs
-have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in
-it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick &#8212;grow quarrelsome
-&#8212;don't sleep of nights &#8212;do not enjoy themselves much, as a
-general thing; &#8212;no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am
-something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain,
-or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to
-those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable
-respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever.
-It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking
-care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for
-going as cook, &#8212; though I confess there is considerable glory in
-that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board &#8212;yet,
-somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls; &#8212;though once broiled,
-judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is
-no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of
-a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of
-the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you
-see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bake-houses the
-pyramids. No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before
-the mast, plumb down into the forecastle, aloft there to the royal
-mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump
-from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first,
-this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of
-honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the
-land, the van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more
-than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you
-have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest
-boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you,
-from the schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of
-Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even
-this wears off in time. What of it, if some old hunks of a
-sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What
-does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the
-New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the
-less of me,
- because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that
-particular instance? Who aint a slave? Tell me that. Well, then,
-however the old sea-captains may order me about&#8212;however they may
-thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it
-is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much
-the same way &#8212; either in a physical or metaphysical point of
-view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all
-hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content. Again,
-I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me
-for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that
-I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay.
-And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being
-paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction
-that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,
-&#8212;what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a
-man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so
-earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that
-on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we
-consign ourselves to perdition! Finally, I always go to sea as a
-sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the
-forecastle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more
-prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the
-Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the
-quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on
-the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much
-the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other
-things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But
-wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a
-merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling
-voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the
-constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me
-in some unaccountable way &#8212;he can better answer than any one
-else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling
- voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a
-long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more
-extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run
-something like this:
-<list>
-<item>Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the
-United States. </item>
-<item>Whaling Voyage by one Ishmael. </item>
-<item>Bloody Battle in Affghanistan.</item>
-</list>Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage
-managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage,
-when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short
-and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces &#8212;though I
-cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the
-circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which
-being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set
-about
-performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was
-a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment.
-chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale
-himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity.
-Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the
-undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending
-marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my
-wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements;
-but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I
-love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what
-is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with
-it&#8212;would they let me &#8212;since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all
-the inmates of the place one lodges in. By reason of these things, then, the
-whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung
-open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two
-there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid
-most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.
-</p>
-</div>
-</body>
-</text>
-</TEI.2>