  Repairs from the Downs to London—Receives all his Arrears of Pay—Indiscreet Expenditure—Personal Appearance and Manners—Visits his Friends—Affecting Interview—Mental Improvement—Superintends a Grocery Concern in Plymouth—Marries—Commences Business for himself—Forms other Engagements—Wreck of the Dutton East Indiaman—Employed as a Diver on the occasion—Repairs to Wales—Sails in a Privateer—Revisits Wales—Dangerous Passage—Returns to Plymouth—Manages some Mines—Illness and Death—Conclusion. Thus far the narrative of this unfortunate adventurer has been written by himself; and, with some trifling variations, the account has been given in his own language, not only with respect to his personal sufferings, and the fate of others, but as his details relate to the capture and riches of Seringapatam. The remaining particulars have been collected from the statements of his widow and son, and partially from detached papers. On landing at the Downs, Mr. Scurry and his companions repaired to London, where the singularity of their dress, their manners, and their colour, so far excited attention, that they were followed by troops of boys, as objects of curiosity. On appealing to the proper authorities, and giving proof of their identity, all arrears of pay, from the time of their capture to their return, were instantly paid. Mr. Scurry also obtained a pension of £7 per annum, which was continued for several years. It was afterwards augmented to £18. which he retained through life. Being thus amply supplied with cash, their prodigality increased with their resources, and, like true British sailors, a considerable portion was squandered away in thoughtless extravagance. On one occasion, Mr. Scurry attended a sale, and laid out about forty pounds in articles, of which he scarcely knew either the quantity, the use, or the names. His lot was, however, packed up altogether, and forwarded to Devonshire, to which place he also after some time repaired. From his long confinement in India, and his involuntary conformity to Asiatic manners, he had nearly forgotten the customs of his early years, and the delicate refinements of his native land. To the wearing of English clothes he felt the greatest aversion; nor could he even sit, except according to the manner to which he had been so long accustomed. Of a knife and fork he had almost lost the use, nor could he eat any thing with comfort, only in the style to which stern necessity had compelled him to submit. His language was broken and confused, having lost nearly all its vernacular idiom. His body was disfigured with scars; and his skin was likewise so deeply tinged with the heat of the climate in which he had so long resided, and by the rays of the sun, to which he had been so much exposed, that it was only a few shades removed from black. It so nearly resembled the swarthy complexion of the negroes, that he might have passed through Africa without being at all noted for the singularity of his colour. These combined peculiarities exposed him to several inconveniences, and brought upon him many an eager gaze, and many a curious inquiry, and pointed observation. On leaving London, he travelled by coach to Exeter, to visit his friends, but stopping at an inn on the road to dine, instead of conforming to the customs of his fellow-travellers, he followed those which he had been obliged to adopt in Asia, to the no small amusement of his companions, and the equal astonishment of the people belonging to the house. His bones, offal, and rejected food, without ceremony were thrown on the floor, no regard being paid either to company or carpets; and when admonished of the impropriety of his conduct, his inattention to the hints which were given, and perseverance in domestic irregularity, only served to confirm those who witnessed his singularities, that he was either deranged, or some foreigner totally unacquainted with the refinements of civilized life. A British sailor, however, in any disguise, if flowing with money, can easily make his peace with a waiter at an inn, and metamorphose a frowning aspect into a smiling countenance. On reaching Exeter, he learned that his mother, and sister Dannan with her husband, were living at Porlock. Thither he repaired; and, that he might reach this place in a style suited to his purse, he entered it in a chaise drawn by four horses, and drove immediately to their door. Surprised at this equipage, his sister first appeared, of whom, on putting his head out of the window, he inquired if Mrs. Scurry lived there, and was within? He was answered, that this was the place of her abode, but that just then she was not within. He then requested that she might be called, but could scarcely restrain his impatience during the absence of the messenger. On his mother’s arrival, he inquired whether she had not a son in India? She replied, that she once had a son there, but not having heard from him for many years, she concluded he was dead. This latter was a point which he seemed to doubt, but his mother was not to be dissuaded from a belief which she had so long indulged. While this conversation was carrying on, his sister, Mrs. Dannan, who was listening with much attention, and viewing this stranger with eagerness, imagined that she could discover, amidst the scars of conflict, the effects of an equinoctial sun, and the furrows of distress, some remnants of features that had once been familiar. Full of this persuasion, she hailed him as her long-lost brother, nor did he keep her in any tedious suspense. His mother, however, was not so easily convinced. She had concluded that her son was dead, and the appearance of this stranger was not calculated to remove the unfavourable impression. But the chaise and four being dismissed, his mother’s unbelief gave way, and mutual recognition and joy succeeded to the astonishment that had been excited. Having, during his long absence, and the scenes of distress through which he was called to pass, lost nearly all his European acquirements, Mr. Scurry turned his attention to learning for nearly two years, improving himself in writing and arithmetic, under the tuition of his brother-in-law at Porlock. During this period, he made such proficiency, as qualified him to engage in mercantile employment, in such departments as might probably present themselves. On quitting his brother-in-law, he repaired to Plymouth, and entered into an engagement with Mr. Andrew Kinsman, a wholesale grocer of that place, and superintended his business. With this gentleman, and another named Harvey, he continued from about 1795 until 1799. He then took a house in Frankfort Place, and commenced business as a grocer for himself. In the following year he married, since which time he has had eight children, of whom one son and one daughter only survive. It is somewhat remarkable, that while he was engaged with Mr. Kinsman, the Dutton, in which he had returned from India some years before, was wrecked near Plymouth garrison, and sunk. The hull, lying under water, was purchased by Mr. Kinsman and a Mr. Andrew Snow; and as Mr. Scurry was an excellent swimmer, and perhaps at that time the best diver in England, he offered his services to assist them in endeavouring to rescue all that they could find from the wreck, which lay about three fathoms under water. After much hesitation, they consented that he should make a trial. A day was accordingly appointed, when, amidst numbers of spectators, he succeeded in hooking some pigs of ballast, and part of her timbers, thus at once gratifying their eager curiosity, and the anxious expectations of his employers. This attempt was made a few months after she sunk. Finding, however, after several ineffectual efforts, that nothing of considerable value was likely to be obtained, the remains were sold, about two years afterwards, to a Mr. Joseph, a rich Jew, for ten pounds. As soon as this transfer took place, Mr. Scurry received a polite note from the new purchaser, requesting him to try once more to rescue something from the sunken ship. With this request he complied; but on his descent, he found that the Dutton was now five fathoms beneath the surface of the water. In this attempt he succeeded in bringing up some of her copper sheathing, and some timber; but the former was so corroded, and the latter so much decayed, that no encouragement was held out to perseverance. Her guns were by this time sunk in the sand; and as nothing promised to reward their exertions, all further efforts were abandoned. Mr. Scurry continued his business as a grocer on his own account, from 1799 until 1804, when, on an application being made by Messrs. Fuge and Langmead, spirit merchants, of Plymouth, to travel for their house, he surrendered the management of his own concerns to his wife, still taking orders for goods as he prosecuted his journeys. In this situation he continued from 1804 to 1812, when, on discovering some irregularities, he quitted their employment, and formed an engagement with a Mr. Slade, of Plymouth, under whom he went to Swansea to manage a colliery. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Slade having fitted out a privateer to cruise in the Bay of Biscay, and knowing Mr. Scurry to be both expert and enterprising in maritime affairs, he sent for him to go out as steward, and to keep a watchful eye over the concerns of the vessel. Accordingly, in the year 1813, he repaired again to Plymouth, and sailed in the Cerberus privateer, commanded by Captain Tregotheth. He continued in this vessel about four months, during which time they took one prize, for his share of which he received £18. Returning from their cruise, they put into Fowey, in Cornwall, where he received a letter from Mr. Slade, stating that his son, James Scurry, was then on the point of death, and having a particular desire to see his father, requested his immediate attendance for a day or two. In consequence of this letter, he hastened to Plymouth, where he arrived on the 12th of April, 1813; and his son died on the 24th. Scarcely had he left the vessel, before the captain, without receiving any orders, again put to sea, and, on the day after he left Fowey, the Cerberus was captured by a French privateer, and carried to France. In 1814, he again went to Swansea, under Mr. Slade, and on their voyage from Ilfracombe to Wales the vessel was nearly lost. In the midst of their distress, the captain grew dispirited, and the panic was communicated to the passengers and the men. In this emergency, Mr. Scurry’s native energies were all called into action, and such was the confidence which his example and precepts inspired, that they were roused from their lethargy, and, by unremitting exertions, succeeded in reaching the port. Having, in the course of his journeys, discovered some clay of a very superior quality, he visited Worcester, London, and some other places, with a design to procure a market, but the supplies of clay being more abundant than the demand for porcelain, his efforts proved unsuccessful. Early in 1815, he again returned to Plymouth, and once more engaged himself with Messrs. Langmeads, Mr. Fuge being now no longer connected with the concern. Here he continued until the death of Mr. John Langmead, when, being in want of a situation, he repaired to London early in 1816, and engaged himself at a coal wharf, where he continued about three years. Having obtained some knowledge of mining, he was several times sent into his native county by the adventurers, to inspect various works in which they had become speculators. During these journeys he was occasionally exposed to the inclemencies of winter, which in all probability sapped the foundation of a strong constitution, that had so long sustained the rigour of the torrid zone. In the autumn of 1822, being on a journey to Devonshire, to superintend a mine in the neighbourhood of Buckfastleigh, he took a severe cold, by which he was laid up at Exeter. This was followed by an inflammation, and this was succeeded by a mortification, of which he died, aged 57, at the house of his sister Dannan, whose husband being a port-gauger of that city, had removed thither some years before. He was buried at St. Thomas’s, near Exeter, December 14th, 1822. In justice to the memory of Mr. Scurry, it ought to be stated, that for a considerable time prior to his death, his mind had received serious impressions, which his subsequent conduct proved to be both deep and lasting. This circumstance gives an additional weight to the truth of his narrative—a narrative that might be deemed incredible from the miseries which it records, were it not supported by strong internal evidence, and corroborated by numerous testimonies drawn from the same unhappy source. To the eye of cool and dispassionate reflection, the world presents a spectacle of devastation and horror. Innumerable miseries arise from physical causes, and the present disordered state of things; and these, unhappily, are at once augmented and eclipsed by national hostilities, and the contentions of ambition for empire in fields of blood. War is a monster, of which the portrait cannot be drawn in miniature. The shocks which the roaring of its cannon occasions in Europe, are felt in the interior of India; and its visits to the kingdoms of Asia are more terrible to the inhabitants than the irruptions of the lions and tigers which roam through their forests, or couch in their jungles. Its inhumanities and massacres extend from the cottage to the throne, and involve in one common destruction the despot and the slave. Of the desolations which it occasions, enough is known to excite the abhorrence and execration of mankind; but that innumerable instances of its barbarities lie concealed in impenetrable obscurity, we may reasonably infer from the mournful cases that are accidentally brought to light. The death of the victim seals up, in perpetual silence, the history of his sufferings; and even those tales of horror that are rescued from oblivion, can do little more than extort the sigh of commiseration, and urge humanity to shed her tears. The biography of James Scurry is an instance of this description. It merits preservation by its simplicity, and cannot fail to recompense the reader by the interesting facts which it records. It is one of those tales which presents its claims alike to justice and compassion; and the writer of these paragraphs feels much gratification in having made this effort to transmit the memorial of his sufferings to posterity. THE END London: H. FISHER, 38, NEWGATE-STREET. Footnotes: 1.There is something extraordinary, and which I never could hear accounted for, in this engagement, viz. After the cannons’ roar ceased, La Fin, French frigate of 40 guns, got alongside the Isis of 53 guns; where she remained entangled with our ship: the French frigate considered herself taken, and her men were ready with their bags to be prisoners; but so it was, after lying alongside an hour or two, she was disentangled, and got back to her own fleet. 2.In this fort I have seen whole families, or their carcases rather, lying in different spots; some eight, some ten, according to their number. The few miserable survivors would plunge at one of our carrion bones, though thrown into the middle of excrement.—May my eyes never see the like again! 3.This opiate is made either into liquid or solid, with sugar, from the boang tree, the produce of which they smoke with tobacco; it causes the most astonishing sensations. In the course of a few years we were in the habit of smoking it freely, to drown our troubles; and we well knew its effects. 4.One, whose name was James Murrell, died; and the other, from the great quantity of blood he lost, never had any colour in his face afterwards; his name was Alsop. 5.Hyatt Saib was the rightful successor, but Tippoo proved the more powerful. A curious and tragic circumstance took place on his first visit to his father’s mausoleum: in his going through the Gangam gate, a bullock’s head on one side, and a man’s head on the other, were lopped off at one time. The real meaning of this ceremony we never could learn. 6.A Mr. William Drake, midshipman of the Hannibal, for striking one of the slaves that had struck him, was led to the front of one of the battalions, and there had his hands and feet tied together; this done, they forced his knees between his arms, and then pushed a pole under his hams. In addition to this, three stout men flogged him as long as they had strength. What must have been our feelings at this time? He survived it; and we were surprised, for his body was as black as a coal. 7.One Smith, a deserter from the Company’s service, was sent for one morning, to read what was written on the bottoms of four pewter plates or dishes; but not pleasing the killadare in deciphering the words, he was sent away, and another, who could read better, ordered to be brought to the durbar, or place of justice. I was selected; and approaching with fear, I made my salam with as much reverence as I could to one of the greatest men in his kingdom. He ordered the buxer, or paymaster, to give me one of the dishes. It was very legible, and I read it to his satisfaction, interpreted by a youth who was taken with the general; the other three were put into my hands successively, and I read them all. The purport was, that he knew he was poisoned, and by order of Tippoo; that his time was short; that he must submit to his fate; that he had borrowed 330,000 rupees from the Malabar Christians, for the support of his army, since he left Bombay; closing with a sincere request, that those who read what was written, (or engraven rather, for it appeared to have been done with a fork or a nail,) and should be so fortunate as to reach any of the presidencies, should make it known to the governor and council, when they would be amply rewarded.—When the passage relative to the money was first mentioned, the killadare appeared quite sanguine, under an idea that it was attainable; but when he understood the meaning of it, he, with the most sovereign contempt, and in the most indignant manner, cried, “Ah! Baunchut!” the meaning of which I cannot, with decency, explain; those who know the Moorish language will understand it. One of the general’s servants suffered with him. The other, George Madan, was with us some years after; he was not removed till the general was taken away by night: where he was buried, we never could learn, but, no doubt, in some dirty hole. 8.No doubt, many of them survived the downfall of Tippoo, and I should have been proud to hear that the Company had done something for those brave unfortunate men, and particularly so, as all their miseries originated from an English general.—The prison from whence the Malabar Christians were brought to have their noses and ears cut off, for refusing their daughters when Tippoo demanded them for his seraglio, was a horrid dismal hole, which we named the Bull, as there was an image considerably larger than life, of that animal, on the building, which was originally designed for an Hindoo place of worship, but by Tippoo converted into a dungeon. This prison we frequently passed, and expected, sooner or later, to occupy some part of it. Very few who were so unfortunate as to be confined here, escaped with less punishment than the loss of their nose and ears. The chumbars, by whom this operation was performed, are held in abhorrence by the Mohammedans, and, on that account, they were consigned to this office; and such was their brutality, that they frequently cut (or sawed, rather) the upper lip off with the nose, leaving the poor unfortunate wretch a pitiable object, to spin out a most miserable existence, being always sent to Tippoo’s arsenals, to hard labour on a scanty allowance. 9.Many of the Hindostan women come to maturity very early: they are frequently mothers at twelve years old, nor is it an uncommon case to find them pregnant much younger; but as they reach womanhood much sooner than the females of Europe, so also they decline at a much earlier period, and lose all their charms when a beauty of the western world is in the zenith of her power. The bloom of youth vanishes soon after twenty; and at thirty, age begins to make its visible ravages; and the fresh, plump, and lively dame, degenerates into a flabby, dull, and unpleasing matron. 10.On the margin of this river the Bramins burn their dead; it was infested by numbers of alligators when I left it, though there were none when I first went to it: they are not formidable, being remarkably timid. I and others have frequently amused ourselves by throwing stones at them. 11.Uncouth stupendous buildings, the grand residence of their Swarmy, or deity. 12.These monuments were ornamented by an engraver and sculptor, whose name was Elliott, an Englishman, and a deserter from Bombay; what became of him I never heard, but suppose he shared the fate of the rest. 13.In mentioning these beasts, I beg leave to make a few remarks on the prevailing opinion respecting lions and tigers. In England we have generally been taught to consider the lion as the king of the forest; but to convince me of this, would be a difficult task, as I have frequently been an eye-witness of the strength, fierceness, and agility of the tiger; to which the lion, in these qualities, is much inferior. Of these animals, my reader will be pleased not to draw any conclusions from what he may have seen of exhibitions in Europe, as they bear no more proportion to lions and tigers, in their natural state, than a stout puppy does to a full-grown dog. In short, it is my humble opinion, that the tigers of India are stronger, more active, and much fiercer, than the lions of Africa, and in every respect their superior, with the exception of generosity, of which quality the tiger is quite destitute. It is this only that gives the lion the advantage. 14.A most destructive weapon, the length about sixteen inches, sharp and taper at the extremity, but four inches diameter towards the handle. 15.There was a pole fixed in the centre of the circle, about sixty feet high, near the top of which was a cap, whereon a man stood with a rope suspended, for the purpose of pulling up the door of the cage. The rope being fastened to it, another man would apply rockets through a hole in the back of the cage, until the tiger was made to start. I have seen them come out as black as a coal; one, which was particularly noticed, made two desperate attempts to reach the man on the pole, which he very nearly accomplished, to the great terror of the man, and astonishment of all who beheld him. 16.We could well distinguish this brave officer by the long beard which he wore; he was also pointed out to us by some person whom I cannot now remember. 17.One of these creatures, after lying on the ground many hours, and supposed dead, rose, on the touch of the elephant’s foot, and coped with him, the elephant roaring dreadfully, till numbers of the pikemen assailed him again, and put an end to his existence. After this circumstance, their whiskers were always burnt, to ascertain if any life remained. 18.The guards did not scruple to tell us this; but we had stronger proofs. A few days prior to our being hurried off to Mysore, three covered doolies passed us, and we heard voices, saying, “Good by, my lads,”—“God bless you,”—“We know not where we are to be taken,” &c. These were the three gentlemen, Captain Rumney, Lieutenant Fraser, and Lieutenant Sampson, who were now conveyed to Mysore to be butchered. A note, indicating their apprehensions, was found in a wall of our prison, and their fatal place of confinement, by one Morton, a soldier of the Company’s service. It was written small, but plain, with ink that they must have made themselves, for it was very blue, and was signed by all three. This was the wretched fate of those brave officers! which it is painful for me to record. 19.The Cayenne pod. 20.Those who are acquainted with the Hindoo customs, know that they keep snakes, consecrated, in their pagodas; in fact, I have seen them often in other places; they are harmless, at least I never heard to the contrary; but the Hindoos must have made them so. 21.A kind of grain, resembling a split pea. It was positively asserted by many, that he made use of no kind of food; but this is false, as he would frequently ask for the above grain. He was in the same spot when we left the place; and what seemed most strange to us, was, his not moving to obey nature’s calls. What became of him I know not, but should be highly gratified to learn. 22.Late in the evening, the order came to prepare for marching. I had then one child, sixteen months old, by one of the most affectionate of women; she was always suspicious I should leave her, if opportunity offered. She was certainly right in her conjectures; and my answers were uniformly evasive to her questions on that score. The battalion was under arms, while I was in my hut, looking at her and the child alternately. Her soul was in her eyes; and surely never a woman looked at a man with more eagerness and anxiety. I fain would have taken her with me, and the child, who was then smiling in my face. I was eager to give them a final embrace; but fearful of the consequences. O my God! what were my sensations then! and even now, after a lapse of more than thirty years! I am still sure a thousand will never obliterate that moment. In the midst of these mutual distractions, I was repeatedly called by my Moorish name, Shum Shu Cawn, to come and fall in. At last, I resolutely tore myself from her and the child without speaking a single word, and I never saw them more. Farewell! thou most affectionate creature! and may the God of mercy and peace preserve thee and thy infant!——[His surviving friends have observed, that Mr. Scurry, on his return to England, repeatedly sent letters to India, in the hope of their reaching his wife; and, in two or three instances, when he found persons of his acquaintance going to those districts in which she probably resided, he has requested them to use every effort to find her out, and bring her to this country. At the same time he was not without his fears, from the early age at which women die in India, that she was no more. Still he had always sanguine hopes of finding the child, whom he left smiling in its mother’s arms; but in this his expectations were never realized.] 23.William Drake, midshipman of the Hannibal; dead—William Whitway, midshipman of the Fortitude, J. Pudman; living—John Wood, of the Chaser Sloop of War; living—John Jourdan, of the Hannibal; unknown—James Scurry, of the Hannibal; the author. 24.A bag with four pockets. 25.While prosecuting this dangerous journey, the author, on a detached paper, observes as follows: This day a circumstance took place, that may be worth recording. In passing through one of the jungles, which are very common in many parts of this country, we were all on the alert, all eye, all ear, wild beasts of different descriptions abounding in these recesses. We were not annoyed, however, by any of them, but we were much alarmed by the sudden appearance of a tremendous snake, which was, as nearly as we could judge, about eleven or twelve feet in length. It passed near my path; and if I ever gave a hearty spring, it was at that moment. It soon got into a hole, all but about three feet of its tail, which we destroyed with the but-ends of our firelocks. 26.A kind of split pea. 27.Buffaloes’ butter, which is always in a liquid state, owing to the heat. 28.The three articles prepared together. 29.It was Purso Rhamboo, field-chief of the Mahrattas, to whose camp we were directing our course. The moment they heard this, there was a visible change in their conduct, for he was a mighty man amongst them! 30.A place set apart for the use of travellers. 31.There were very few surviving at this time; and although his lordship’s humanity ought ever to be remembered in this case, yet we well knew, or guessed, that he would never have any delivered to him. Neither had he. There were none, who had been prisoners, that ever reached the English, unless by making their escape; except two officers, who were detained, contrary to the capitulation, at Coimbatam. These were loaded with presents, and liberated, when the capital was in danger, in order to pave the way for future overtures.—They were fortunate indeed! 32.Abdul Kallick the eldest, and Masza ud Dieu the youngest; the former very dark, the latter very fair and personable. The eldest, I well remember, while at Seringapatam, once ordered one of our lads, whose name was Kelly, to be bound with his hands behind him; this being done, he was hoisted by a pulley a yard from the ground, and in this condition severely beaten. And all this, because Kelly would not sing and dance in the English manner, for him to laugh at. We felt for poor Kelly at the time, but it was the subject of mirth among us afterwards. He was a curiously grown Irish lad, and could not talk much English; and as to dancing and singing, he knew as much about it as a Hottentot. 33.This was a most tremendous night! Tippoo had taken a position on the north bank of the river, with his front and his flanks covered by a bound hedge, and a number of ravines, swamps, and water-courses; he was likewise fortified by a chain of redoubts, full of cannon, as well as by the artillery of the fort, and of the works of the island: under those circumstances, strong as they were, Lord Cornwallis was determined to attack him. Accordingly, he marshalled his own army in three divisions, omitting to employ the allies in this affair, as he thought them unequal to the arduous task, and leaving his cannon behind him in the camp, with two battalions to guard them. As soon as it was dark, the division pushed on, under the command of this humane and brave general; but the guides, either through ignorance or design, leading the division commanded by General Meadows astray, he did not participate in the glories of the night, so called, at which I have no doubt he was much mortified, as he was very courageous. The night was dark, and the allies were on the alert, expecting the total overthrow of the English. Tens of thousands were spectators, both from the Mahratta and the Nizam’s army; and they all supposed it impossible for any troops in the world to stand against the heavy and tremendous fire that was opened in every direction; but such was the case. The morning shewed the allies that the English had not only defeated them in their camp, taking seventy pieces of cannon, &c. but were absolutely possessed of most part of the suburbs of the island. This looked like magic to the allies, and highly aggrandized the arms of the English in their estimation. It must have been an awfully sublime scene; and it is my humble opinion, that had Lord Cornwallis been repulsed, not an individual of the allies would have been found in their position by twelve o’clock the next day. 34.A pagoda varies in value in different parts and times, from seven shillings and five pence, to eight shillings and five pence. A rupee also varies from one shilling and four pence, to two shillings and three pence, sterling, A lack is one hundred thousand. Transcriber’s note: Variations in spelling have been retained. Page 96, full stop inserted after ‘fell,’ “hand before he fell.” Page 118, ‘possiblity’ changed to ‘possibility,’ “was no possibility of” Page 125, full stop deleted after ‘Native,’ “a Fanatical Native—Visited” Page 176, ‘pady’ changed to ‘paddy,’ “to a paddy, or rice” Page 218, full stop deleted after ‘City,’ “in the City—Many of” Page 230, closing quote inserted after ‘beauty,’ “in form and beauty.”” |
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