PREFACE.
ANGLO-SAXON BRITAIN.
CHAPTER I.
THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH.
CHAPTER II.
THE ENGLISH BY THE SHORES OF THE BALTIC.
CHAPTER III.
THE ENGLISH SETTLE IN BRITAIN.
CHAPTER IV.
THE COLONISATION OF THE COAST.
CHAPTER V.
THE ENGLISH IN THEIR NEW HOMES.
CHAPTER VI.
THE CONQUEST OF THE INTERIOR.
CHAPTER VII.
THE NATURE AND EXTENT OF THE ENGLISH SETTLEMENT.
CHAPTER VIII.
HEATHEN ENGLAND.
CHAPTER IX.
THE CONVERSION OF THE ENGLISH.
CHAPTER X.
ROME AND IONA.
CHAPTER XI.
CHRISTIAN ENGLAND.
CHAPTER XII.
THE CONSOLIDATION OF THE KINGDOMS.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESISTANCE TO THE DANES.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SAXONS AT BAY IN WESSEX.
CHAPTER XV.
THE RECOVERY OF THE NORTH.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE AUGUSTAN AGE AND THE LATER ANGLO-SAXON CIVILISATION.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE DECADENCE.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE.
CHAPTER XIX.
ANGLO-SAXON NOMENCLATURE.
CHAPTER XX.
ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE.
CHAPTER XXI.
ANGLO-SAXON INFLUENCES IN MODERN BRITAIN.
In spite of the impression Mdlle. Césarine had made upon me the night before, I somehow didn't feel at all desirous of meeting her again. I was impressed, it is true, but not favourably. There seemed to me something uncanny and weird about her which made me shrink from seeing anything more of her if I could possibly avoid it. And as it happened, I was luckily engaged that very afternoon to tea at Irene's. I made the excuse, and added somewhat pointedly—on purpose that it might be repeated to Mdlle. Césarine—"Miss Latham is a very old and particular friend of mine—a friend whom I couldn't for worlds think of disappointing."...
On the eighteenth day out from Sydney, we were cruising under the lee of Erromanga—of course you know Erromanga, an isolated island between the New Hebrides and the Loyalty group—when suddenly our dusky Polynesian boy, Nassaline, who was at the masthead on the lookout, gave a surprised cry of "Boat ahoy!" and pointed with his skinny black finger to a dark dot away southward on the horizon, in the direction of Fiji.
I strained my eyes and saw—well, a barrel or something. For myself, I should never have [pg 10] made out it was a boat at all, being somewhat slow of vision at great distances; but, bless your heart! these Kanaka lads have eyes like hawks for pouncing down upon a canoe or a sail no bigger than a speck afar off; so when Nassaline called out confidently, "Boat ahoy!" in his broken English, I took out my binocular, and focused it full on the spot towards which the skinny black finger pointed. Probably, thought I to myself, a party of natives, painted red, on the war-trail against their enemies in some neighboring island; or perhaps a "labor vessel," doing a veiled slave-trade in "indentured apprentices" for New Caledonia or the Queensland planters.
To my great surprise, however, I found out, when I got my glasses fixed full upon it, it was neither of these, but an open English row-boat, apparently, making signs of distress, and alone in the midst of the wide Pacific.