Philistia. Allen Grant

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Philistia - Allen Grant


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       Grant Allen

      Philistia

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066246396

       CHAPTER I. — CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

       CHAPTER II. — THE COASTS OF THE GENTILES.

       CHAPTER III. — MAGDALEN QUAD.

       CHAPTER IV. — A LITTLE MUSIC.

       CHAPTER V. — ASKELON VILLA, GATH.

       ‘"HILDA TREGELLIS.”’

       CHAPTER VI. — DOWN THE RIVER.

       CHAPTER VII. — GHOSTLY COUNSEL.

       CHAPTER VIII. — IN THE CAMP OF THE PHILISTINES.

       CHAPTER IX. — THE WOMEN OF THE LAND.

       CHAPTER X. — THE DAUGHTERS OF CANAAN.

       CHAPTER XI. — CULTURE AND CULTURE.

       CHAPTER XII. — THE MORE EXCELLENT WAY.

       CHAPTER XIII. — YE MOUNTAINS OF GILBOA!

       CHAPTER XIV. — ‘WHAT DO THESE HEBREWS HERE?’

       CHAPTER XV. — EVIL TIDINGS.

       CHAPTER XVI. — FLAT REBELLION.

       CHAPTER XVII. — ‘COME YE OUT AND BE YE SEPARATE.’

       CHAPTER XVIII. — A QUIET WEDDING.

       CHAPTER XIX. — INTO THE FIRE.

       CHAPTER XX. — LITERATURE, MUSIC, AND THE DRAMA.

       CHAPTER XXI. — OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

       CHAPTER XXII. — THE PHILISTINES TRIUMPH.

       CHAPTER XXIII. — THE STREETS OF ASKELON.

       CHAPTER XXIV. — THE CLOUDS BEGIN TO BREAK.

       CHAPTER XXV. — HARD PRESSED.

       CHAPTER XXVI. — IRRECLAIMABLE.

       CHAPTER XXVII. — RONALD COMES OF AGE.

       CHAPTER XXVIII. — TELL IT NOT IN OATH.

       CHAPTER XXIX. — A MAN AND A MAID.

       CHAPTER XXX. — THE ENVIRONMENT FINALLY TRIUMPHS.

       CHAPTER XXXI. — DE PROFUNDIS.

       CHAPTER XXXII. — PRECONTRACT OF MARRIAGE.

       CHAPTER XXXIII. — A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE.

       CHAPTER XXXIV. — HOPE.

       CHAPTER XXXV. — THE TIDE TURNS.

       CHAPTER XXXVI. — OUT OF THE HAND OP THE PHILISTINES.

       CHAPTER XXXVII. — LAND AT LAST: BUT WHAT LAND?

       Table of Contents

      It was Sunday evening, and on Sundays Max Schurz, the chief of the London Socialists, always held his weekly receptions. That night his cosmopolitan refugee friends were all at liberty; his French disciples could pour in from the little lanes and courts in Soho, where, since the Commune, they had plied their peaceful trades as engravers, picture-framers, artists’-colourmen, models, pointers, and so forth—for most of them were hangers-on in one way or another of the artistic world; his German adherents could stroll round, pipe in mouth, from their printing-houses, their ham-and-beef shops, or their naturalists’ chambers, where they stuffed birds or set up exotic butterflies in little cabinets—for most of them were more or less literary or scientific in their pursuits; and his few English sympathisers, chiefly dissatisfied philosophical Radicals of the upper classes, could drop in casually for a chat and a smoke, on their way home from the churches to which they had been dutifully escorting their un-emancipated wives and sisters. Max Schurz kept open house for all on Sunday evenings, and there was not a drawing-room in London better filled than his with the very advanced and not undistinguished set who alone had the much-prized entrée of his exclusive salon.

      The salon itself did not form any component part of Max Schurz’s own private residence in any way. The great Socialist, the man whose mandates shook the thrones of Russia and Austria, whose movements spread terror in Paris and Berlin, whose dictates were even obeyed in Kerry and in Chicago,


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