The Constable's Move
W.W. Jacobs

Produced by David Widger


By W.W. Jacobs


[Illustration: "The Constable's Move."]

Mr. Bob Grummit sat in the kitchen with his corduroy-clad legs stretched
on the fender. His wife's half-eaten dinner was getting cold on the
table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in need of cheering up, emptied her
half-empty glass of beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"Come away, I tell you," he called. "D'ye hear? Come away. You'll be
locked up if you don't."

He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short pipe in his
mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at his wife as
she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the furniture
which was being carried in next door.

"Come away or else you'll be locked up," repeated Mr. Grummit. "You
mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law."

Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the winds,
stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut sideboard with
bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the personal
supervision of Police-Constable Evans.

"They'll be 'aving a pianner next," said the indignant Mr. Grummit,
peering from the depths of the room.

"They've got one," responded his wife; "there's the end if it stickin' up
in the van."

Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. "Did you throw all
them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?" he demanded.

"He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs," replied his wife. "I
'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and things."

"That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners," said the incensed Mr.
Grummit, "sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to throw
good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?"

Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the triumphal
entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the narrow
footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all points, and
Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords.

"Showing off," explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; "and she's got
fingers like carrots."

"It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and live in
it," said the indignant Grummit; "and to come and live next to me!--
that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man wot
has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd go in
and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere long,
you take my word for it."

"Why not?" inquired his wife.

"Why?" repeated Mr. Grummit. "Why? Why, becos I'll make the place too
'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich without 'im
a-coming and living next door to me?"

For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's bullet-shaped head
worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly bad. The day after
the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered with tins which he
recognized as old acquaintances, and since that time they had travelled
backwards and forwards with monotonous regularity. They sometimes made
as many as three journeys a day, and on one occasion the heavens opened
to drop a battered tin bucket on the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying
his bootlace. Five minutes later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans,
who had come out to admire the sunset.

"I heard something fall," said the constable, eyeing the pail curiously.

"You threw it," said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously.

"Me? Nonsense," said the other, easily. "I was having tea in the
parlour with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his
young lady."

"Any more of 'em?" demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at this list
of witnesses for an alibi.

"It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly," said the constable.
"I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a reward for it.
It'll hold enough water for your wants."

Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time concocting
impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic partner, went off
to discuss affairs with his intimates at the _Bricklayers' Arms_. The
company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. Evans ought to be boiled,
were miserably deficient in ideas as to the means by which such a
desirable end was to be attained.

"Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing," said an elderly
labourer. "The police don't like being laughed at."

"'Ow?" demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity.

"There's plenty o' ways," said the old man.

"I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on my back,
I know."

Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat balanced
by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back still ached,
but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only ways he could
imagine of making the constable look foolish contained an almost certain
risk of hard labour for himself.

He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins--to the
secret disappointment of Mr. Evans--remained untouched in his yard. For
the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit expressed
it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him.

"I've been talking to old Bill Smith," he said, suddenly, as he came in
one night.

Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he was
looking almost cheerful.

"He's given me a tip," said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; "a copper
mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's invited."

"Wot of it?" inquired his wife. "You wasn't think of asking him in, was

Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. "If a copper comes in
without being told to," he continued, "he gets into trouble for it. Now
d'ye see?"

"But he won't come," said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit.

Mr. Grummit winked. "Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough," he
retorted. "Where's the copper-stick?"

"Have you gone mad?" demanded his wife, "or do you think I 'ave?"

"You go up into the bedroom," said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his remarks
with his forefinger. "I come up and beat the bed black and blue with the
copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' 'Murder!' and
things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill ain't sure about
that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your life--I'll leave the
door on the latch--and there you are. He's sure to get into trouble for
it. Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort o' thing."

Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband began to
lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose and fetched
the weapon in question.

"And you be careful what you're hitting," she said, as they went upstairs
to bed. "We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?"

"You pitch into me with your tongue," said Mr. Grummit, amiably.

Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable and his
wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, complied, and
in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto told Mr. Grummit
things that had been rankling in her mind for some months. She raked up
misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, and, not content with
that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, beginning with her
mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's youngest sister. The hand
that held the copper-stick itched.

"Any more to say?" demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her.

Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly
remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with
extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts
of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband.

[Illustration: "Mr. Grummit, suddenly remembering himself, stopped short
and attacked the bed with extraordinary fury."]

"I can hear 'im moving," whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take breath.

"Mur--der!" wailed his wife. "Help! Help!"

Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the attack;
Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a temporary
relief in moans.

"Is--he----deaf?" panted the wife-beater, "or wot?"

He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied
scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall.

"Hel--lp!" moaned Mrs. Grummit.

"Halloa, there!" came the voice of the constable. "Why don't you keep
that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep."

Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his

"He--he's afraid--to come in," he gasped. "Keep it up, old gal."

He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart
had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as
hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.

"Here he is," cried the jubilant Grummit. "Now!"

His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung
open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on
the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr.
Grummit sprawling.

"Hit my sister, will you?" he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose.
"Take that!"

Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging
at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr.
Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise
that she could make herself heard.

"Joke?" repeated her brother, incredulously. "Joke?"

Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained.

Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to
mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured
Grummit only added to his distress.

"Best joke I ever heard in my life," he said, wiping his eyes. "Don't
look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it."

"Get off 'ome," responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him.

"There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open," said the
other. "Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long."

He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the
window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours outside.
Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say what he
had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the window, and
in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the night. Even the
sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed
failed to move him.

"The bed's broke, Bob," she said faintly.

"Beds won't last for ever," he said, shortly; "sleep on the floor."

Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the bedclothes
and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time she was fast
asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in devising further
impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe next door.

He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The
constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit
felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass.

"I heard you last night," said the constable, playfully. "My word! Good

"Wot's the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short.

The constable stared at him. "She has been knocking you about," he
gasped. "Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it
sounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up?
I should be pleased to take her."

Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. "Wot would it cost if I
set about you?" he demanded, huskily.

"Two months," said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; "p'r'aps three."

Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable,
lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile.
"That would be besides what you'd get from me," he said, softly.

"Come out in the road," said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence.

"It's agin the rules," said Mr. Evans; "sorry I can't. Why not go and
ask your wife's brother to oblige you?"

He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after a
frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of such
acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded offer
to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the day he
spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the anxious
inquiries of his fellow-workmen.

He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being able to
give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour having weighed
on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the piano next door,
which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up "_The Last Rose of Summer_"
note by note, he went out at the back, and the first thing he saw was Mr.
Evans mending his path with tins and other bric-a-brac.

"Nothing like it," said the constable, looking up. "Your missus gave 'em
to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you are."

He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after endeavouring
in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an inverted wash-tub
and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable Evans was going to try
and cultivate a garden.

The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the back
window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias and
calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He could
not sleep for thinking of them.

He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. Grummit that
Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, went off to his
work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some time had lifted,
and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in front windows
added to his good humour.

He was still in good spirits when he left off work that afternoon, but
some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to the Brick-layers'
firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, and then, being still
disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who lived the other
side of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was nearly midnight.

The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. The
clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just dying
away as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man he had
been trying to avoid.

"Halloa!" said Constable Evans, sharply. "Here, I want a word with you."

Mr. Grummit quailed. "With me, sir?" he said, with involuntary respect.

"What have you been doing to my flowers?" demanded the other, hotly.

"Flowers?" repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him.
"Flowers? What flowers?"

"You know well enough," retorted the constable. "You got over my fence
last night and smashed all my flowers down."

"You be careful wot you're saying," urged Mr. Grummit. "Why, I love
flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wot
you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?"

"You know all about it," said the constable, choking. "I shall take out
a summons against you for it."

"Ho!" said Mr. Grummit. "And wot time do you say it was when I done it?"

"Never you mind the time," said the other.

"Cos it's important," said Mr. Grummit.

"My wife's brother--the one you're so fond of--slept in my 'ouse last
night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it,
it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence."

"If I wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Evans, speaking with great
deliberation, "I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the
biggest hiding you've ever had in your life."

"If you wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, "I'd arf
murder you."

The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part.

"If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble," said the

"If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod,"
sighed Mr. Grummit.

"I wouldn't put you there," said the constable, earnestly; "I swear I

"Everything's beautiful and quiet," said Mr. Grummit, trembling with
eagerness, "and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemn
davit I wouldn't."

"When I think o' my garden--" began the constable. With a sudden
movement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by the
coat, began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an eye
they had closed.

Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. Grummit,
forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck before him. The
constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; his uniform was torn
and covered with blood and dirt, and his good looks marred for a
fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, recovering his helmet,
tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He stuck the battered relic
on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back--awed, despite himself.

"It was a fair fight," he stammered.

The constable waved him away. "Get out o' my sight before I change my
mind," he said, fiercely; "and mind, if you say a word about this it'll
be the worse for you."

"Do you think I've gone mad?" said the other. He took another look at
his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the road home.
The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to inspect damages.

They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against the
lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the absence of a
prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was hanging by a
thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just picked it up and
placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry broke upon his ear.

He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in the
direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and cries
of "Police!" became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, and
turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the gate of a
large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening to-wards
them. The constable arrived out of breath.

"Better late than never," said the owner of the house, sarcastically.

Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand on the

"They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them," continued the
householder. "Halloa!" he added, as somebody opened the hall door and
the constable's damaged condition became visible in the gas-light. "Are
you hurt?"

"Yes," said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gain
time he blew a loud call on his whistle.

"The rascals!" continued the other. "I think I should know the big chap
with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me."

Mr. Evans blew his whistle again--thoughtfully. The opportunity seemed
too good to lose.

"Did they get anything?" he inquired.

"Not a thing," said the owner, triumphantly. "I was disturbed just in

The constable gave a slight gulp. "I saw the three running by the side
of the road," he said, slowly. "Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so I
collared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had me
down three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, and
when I came to my senses again they had gone."

He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur of
sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable,
both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them.

"Get back to the station and make your report," said the former, as
Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story.
"You've done your best; I can see that."

Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, limped
painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals might make
good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a policeman was
at least equal to that of three burglars.

He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head dressed,
was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or two. He was
off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having devoted a column
to the affair, headed "A Gallant Constable," modestly secluded himself
from the public gaze for the whole of that time.

To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could have
repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. The
constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed. Once Mr.
Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on the front parlour
window, and the only response was the sudden lowering of the blind. It
was not until a week afterwards that his eyes were gladdened by a sight
of the constable sitting in his yard; and fearing that even then he might
escape him, he ran out on tip-toe and put his face over the fence before
the latter was aware of his presence.

"Wot about that 'ere burglary?" he demanded in truculent tones.

"Good evening, Grummit," said the constable, with a patronizing air.

"Wot about that burglary?" repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. "I don't
believe you ever saw a burglar."

Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. "You'd better run
indoors, my good man," he said, slowly.

"Telling all them lies about burglars," continued the indignant Mr.
Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. "Why, I gave you that
black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I----"

"You've been drinking," said the other, severely.

"You mean to say I didn't?" demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously.

Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. "I don't know what you're
talking about," he said, calmly.

Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood.

"Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars,"
continued the constable, "why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure.
Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices."

Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of yards
and breathed heavily.

"About your height, too, he was," mused the constable. "I hope for your
sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just

Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered.

"That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hard
on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer."

Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to
a feeble "Oh!"

"No," said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. "It ain't good enough
for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can't
live in a common place like this."

Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. "A--
a sergeant?" he stammered.

Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. "For my bravery
with them burglars the other night, Grummit," he said, modestly. "I
might have waited years if it hadn't been for them."

He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without
any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house.


***** This file should be named 11184.txt or *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:

Produced by David Widger

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial



(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at

and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement

Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the

must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.


works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal

defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do

including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at

state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at

For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director

increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit:

with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
compressed (zipped), HTML and others.

Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
new filenames and etext numbers.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to
download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
download by the etext year.

(Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)

EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part
of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is
identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single
digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For
example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:

or filename 24689 would be found at:

An alternative method of locating eBooks:


Back to Full Books