No More Learning

3.

I believe, of all those billions of men and women that filled the unnamed
lands, every one exists this hour, here or elsewhere, invisible to
us, in exact proportion to what he or she grew from in life, and
out of what he or she did, felt, became, loved, sinned, in life.

I believe that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any
more than this shall be the end of my nation, or of me;
Of their languages, governments, marriage, literature, products, games,
wars, manners, crimes, prisons, slaves, heroes, poets, I suspect
their results curiously await in the yet unseen world--counterparts
of what accrued to them in the seen world;
I suspect I shall meet them there,
I suspect I shall there find each old particular of those unnamed lands.



_SIMILITUDE. _


1.

On the beach at night alone,
As the old Mother sways her to and fro, singing her savage and husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining--I think a thought of the clef of the
universes, and of the future.


2.

A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets,
asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time--all inanimate forms,
All Souls--all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in
different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes--the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women--me also;
All nations, colours, barbarisms, civilisations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any
globe;
All lives and deaths--all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spanned, and shall for ever
span them, and compactly hold them.



_THE SQUARE DEIFIC. _


GOD.

Chanting the Square Deific, out of the One advancing, out of the sides;
Out of the old and new--out of the square entirely divine,
Solid, four-sided, (all the sides needed)--From this side JEHOVAH am I,
Old Brahm I, and I Saturnius am;
Not Time affects me--I am Time, modern as any;
Unpersuadable, relentless, executing righteous judgments;
As the Earth, the Father, the brown old Kronos, with laws,
Aged beyond computation--yet ever new--ever with those mighty laws rolling,
Relentless, I forgive no man--whoever sins dies--I will have that man's
life;
Therefore let none expect mercy--Have the seasons, gravitation, the
appointed days, mercy? --No more have I;
But as the seasons, and gravitation--and as all the appointed days, that
forgive not,
I dispense from this side judgments inexorable, without the least remorse.


SAVIOUR.

Consolator most mild, the promised one advancing,
With gentle hand extended, the mightier God am I,
Foretold by prophets and poets, in their most wrapt prophecies and poems;
From this side, lo! the Lord CHRIST gazes--lo! Hermes I--lo! mine is
Hercules' face;
All sorrow, labour, suffering, I, tallying it, absorb in myself;
Many times have I been rejected, taunted, put in prison, and crucified--and
many times shall be again;
All the world have I given up for my dear brothers' and sisters' sake--for
the soul's sake;
Wending my way through the homes of men, rich or poor, with the kiss of
affection;
For I am affection--I am the cheer-bringing God, with hope, and all-
enclosing charity;
Conqueror yet--for before me all the armies and soldiers of the earth shall
yet bow--and all the weapons of war become impotent:
With indulgent words, as to children--with fresh and sane words, mine only;
Young and strong I pass, knowing well I am destined myself to an early
death:
But my Charity has no death--my Wisdom dies not, neither early nor late,
And my sweet Love, bequeathed here and elsewhere, never dies.


SATAN.

Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt,
Comrade of criminals, brother of slaves,
Crafty, despised, a drudge, ignorant,
With sudra face and worn brow--black, but in the depths of my heart proud
as any;
Lifted, now and always, against whoever, scorning, assumes to rule me;
Morose, full of guile, full of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles,
Though it was thought I was baffled and dispelled, and my wiles done--but
that will never be;
Defiant I SATAN still live--still utter words--in new lands duly appearing,
and old ones also;
Permanent here, from my side, warlike, equal with any, real as any,
Nor time, nor change, shall ever change me or my words.


THE SPIRIT.

Santa SPIRITA,[1] breather, life,
Beyond the light, lighter than light,
Beyond the flames of hell--joyous, leaping easily above hell;
Beyond Paradise--perfumed solely with mine own perfume;
Including all life on earth--touching, including God--including Saviour and
Satan;
Ethereal, pervading all--for, without me, what were all? what were God?
Essence of forms--life of the real identities, permanent, positive, namely
the unseen,
Life of the great round world, the sun and stars, and of man--I, the
General Soul,
Here the Square finishing, the solid, I the most solid,
Breathe my breath also through these little songs.

[Footnote 1: The reader will share my wish that Whitman had written
_sanctus spiritus_, which is right, instead of _santa spirita_, which is
methodically wrong. ]




_SONGS OF PARTING. _



_SINGERS AND POETS. _


1.

The indications and tally of time;
Perfect sanity shows the master among philosophs;
Time, always without flaw, indicates itself in parts;
What always indicates the poet is the crowd of the pleasant company of
singers, and their words;
The words of the singers are the hours or minutes of the light or dark--but
the words of the maker of poems are the general light and dark;
The maker of poems settles justice, reality, immortality,
His insight and power encircle things and the human race,
He is the glory and extract, thus far, of things and of the human race.


2.

The singers do not beget--only the POET begets;
The singers are welcomed, understood, appear often enough--but rare has the
day been, likewise the spot, of the birth of the maker of poems;
Not every century, or every five centuries, has contained such a day, for
all its names.
The singers of successive hours of centuries may have ostensible names, but
the name of each of them is one of the singers;
The name of each is eye-singer, ear-singer, head-singer,
sweet-singer, echo-singer, parlour-singer, love-singer, or something else.


3.

All this time, and at all times, wait the words of poems;
The greatness of sons is the exuding of the greatness of mothers and
fathers;
The words of poems are the tuft and final applause of science.

Divine instinct, breadth of vision, the law of reason, health, rudeness of
body, withdrawnness, gaiety, sun-tan, air-sweetness--such are some
of the words of poems.


4.

The sailor and traveller underlie the maker of poems,
The builder, geometer, chemist, anatomist, phrenologist, artist--all these
underlie the maker of poems.


5.

The words of the true poems give you more than poems,
They give you, to form for yourself, poems, religions, politics, war,
peace, behaviour, histories, essays, romances, and everything else,
They balance ranks, colours, races, creeds, and the sexes,
They do not seek beauty--they are sought,
For ever touching them, or close upon them, follows beauty, longing, fain,
love-sick.
They prepare for death--yet are they not the finish, but rather the outset,
They bring none to his or her terminus, or to be content and full;
Whom they take, they take into space, to behold the birth of stars, to
learn one of the meanings,
To launch off with absolute faith--to sweep through the ceaseless rings,
and never be quiet again.



_TO A HISTORIAN. _


You who celebrate bygones:
Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races--the life that has
exhibited itself;
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates, rulers,
and priests.
I, habitue of the Alleghanies, treating man as he is in himself, in his own
rights,
Pressing the pulse of the life that has seldom exhibited itself, the great
pride of man in himself;
Chanter of Personality, outlining what is yet to be;
I project the history of the future.



_FIT AUDIENCE. _


1.

Whoever you are, holding me now in hand,
Without one thing, all will be useless:
I give you fair warning, before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.


2.

Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?

The way is suspicious--the result uncertain, perhaps destructive;
You would have to give up all else--I alone would expect to be your God,
sole and exclusive;
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life, and all conformity to the lives around
you, would have to be abandoned;
Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further--Let go
your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down, and depart on your way.

Or else, by stealth, in some wood, for trial,
Or back of a rock, in the open air,
(For in any roofed room of a house I emerge not--nor in company,
And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,)
But just possibly with you on a high hill--first watching lest any person,
for miles around, approach unawares--
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea, or some
quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,
With the comrade's long-dwelling kiss, or the new husband's kiss,
For I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.

Or, if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart, or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;
For thus, merely touching you, is enough--is best,
And thus, touching you, would I silently sleep, and be carried eternally.


3.

But these leaves conning, you con at peril,
For these leaves, and me, you will not understand,
They will elude you at first, and still more afterward--I will certainly
elude you,
Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!
Already you see I have escaped from you.

For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
Nor do those know me best who admire me, and vauntingly praise me,
Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) prove
victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only--they will do just as much evil, perhaps
more;
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not
hit--that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me, and depart on your way.



_SINGING IN SPRING. _

These I, singing in spring, collect for lovers:
For who but I should understand lovers, and all their sorrow and joy?
And who but I should be the poet of comrades?
Collecting, I traverse the garden, the world--but soon I pass the gates,
Now along the pond-side--now wading in a little, fearing not the wet,
Now by the post-and-rail fences, where the old stones thrown there, picked
from the fields, have accumulated,
Wild flowers and vines and weeds come up through the stones, and partly
cover them--Beyond these I pass,
Far, far in the forest, before I think where I go,
Solitary, smelling the earthy smell, stopping now and then in the silence;
Alone, I had thought--yet soon a silent troop gathers around me;
Some walk by my side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck,
They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive--thicker they come, a great
crowd, and I in the middle,
Collecting, dispensing, singing in spring, there I wander with them,
Plucking something for tokens--tossing toward whoever is near me.
Here lilac, with a branch of pine,
Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off a live-oak in Florida,
as it hung trailing down,
Here some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of sage,
And here what I now draw from the water, wading in the pond-side,
(O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me--and returns again, never to
separate from me,
And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of comrades--this Calamus-
root[1] shall,
Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none render it back! )
And twigs of maple, and a bunch of wild orange, and chestnut,
And stems of currants, and plum-blows, and the aromatic cedar,
These I, compassed around by a thick cloud of spirits,
Wandering, point to, or touch as I pass, or throw them loosely from me,
Indicating to each one what he shall have--giving something to each.
But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that I reserve;
I will give of it--but only to them that love as I myself am capable of
loving.

[Footnote 1: I am favoured with the following indication, from Mr Whitman
himself, of the relation in which this word Calamus is to be
understood:--"Calamus is the very large and aromatic grass or rush growing
about water-ponds in the valleys--spears about three feet high; often
called Sweet Flag; grows all over the Northern and Middle States. The
_recherche_ or ethereal sense of the term, as used in my book, arises
probably from the actual Calamus presenting the biggest and hardiest kind
of spears of grass, and their fresh, aquatic, pungent _bouquet_. "]



_LOVE OF COMRADES. _


1.

Come, I will make the continent indissoluble;
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone upon!
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.


2.

I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America,
and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies;
I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about each other's necks;
By the love of comrades,
By the manly love of comrades.


3.

For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you, _ma femme_!
For you! for you, I am trilling these songs,
In the love of comrades,
In the high-towering love of comrades.



_PULSE OF MY LIFE. _

Not heaving from my ribbed breast only;
Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself;
Not in those long-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs;
Not in many an oath and promise broken;
Not in my wilful and savage soul's volition;
Not in the subtle nourishment of the air;
Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists;
Not in the curious systole and diastole within, which will one day cease;
Not in many a hungry wish, told to the skies only;
Not in cries, laughter, defiances, thrown from me when alone, far in the
wilds;
Not in husky pantings through clenched teeth;
Not in sounded and resounded words--chattering words, echoes, dead words;
Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep,
Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day;
Nor in the limbs and senses of my body, that take you and dismiss you
continually--Not there;
Not in any or all of them, O Adhesiveness! O pulse of my life!
Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.



_AUXILIARIES. _


WHAT place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the siege?
Lo! I send to that place a commander, swift, brave, immortal;
And with him horse and foot, and parks of artillery,
And artillerymen, the deadliest that ever fired gun.



_REALITIES. _


1.

As I walk, solitary, unattended,
Around me I hear that _eclat_ of the world--politics, produce,
The announcements of recognised things--science,
The approved growth of cities, and the spread of inventions.

I see the ships, (they will last a few years,)
The vast factories, with their foremen and workmen,
And hear the endorsement of all, and do not object to it.


2.

But I too announce solid things;
Science, ships, politics, cities, factories, are not nothing--they serve,
They stand for realities--all is as it should be.


3.

Then my realities;
What else is so real as mine?
Libertad, and the divine Average-Freedom to every slave on the face of the
earth,
The rapt promises and _lumine_[1] of seers--the spiritual
world--these centuries-lasting songs,
And our visions, the visions of poets, the most solid announcements of any.

For we support all,
After the rest is done and gone, we remain,
There is no final reliance but upon us;
Democracy rests finally upon us, (I, my brethren, begin it,)
And our visions sweep through eternity.

[Footnote 1: I suppose Whitman gets this odd word _lumine_, by a process of
his own, out of _illuminati_, and intends it to stand for what would be
called clairvoyance, intuition. ]



_NEARING DEPARTURE. _


1.

As nearing departure,
As the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud,
A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.


2.

I shall _go_ forth,
I shall traverse the States--but I cannot tell whither or how long;
Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will suddenly
cease.


3.

O book and chant! must all then amount to but this?
Must we barely arrive at this beginning of me? . . .
And yet it is enough, O soul!
O soul! we have positively appeared--that is enough.



_POETS TO COME. _


1.

Poets to come!
Not to-day is to justify me, and Democracy, and what we are for;
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before
known,
You must justify me.


2.

I but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment, only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.

I am a man who, sauntering along, without fully stopping, turns a casual
look upon you, and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.



_CENTURIES HENCE. _


Full of life now, compact, visible,
I, forty years old the eighty-third year of the States,
To one a century hence, or any number of centuries hence,
To you, yet unborn, these seeking you.

When you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible;
Now it is you, compact, visible, realising my poems, seeking me;
Fancying how happy you were, if I could be with you, and become your loving
comrade;
Be it as if I were with you. Be not too certain but I am now with you.



_SO LONG! _


1.

To conclude--I announce what comes after me;
I announce mightier offspring, orators, days, and then depart,

I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all,
I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to consummations.

When America does what was promised,
When there are plentiful athletic bards, inland and sea-board,
When through these States walk a hundred millions of superb persons,
When the rest part away for superb persons, and contribute to them,
When breeds of the most perfect mothers denote America,
Then to me my due fruition.

I have pressed through in my own right,
I have offered my style to every one--I have journeyed with confident step.
While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, _So long_!
And take the young woman's hand, and the young man's hand for the last
time.


2.

I announce natural persons to arise,
I announce justice triumphant,
I announce uncompromising liberty and equality,
I announce the justification of candour, and the justification of pride.

I announce that the identity of these States is a single identity only,
I announce the Union, out of all its struggles and wars, more and more
compact,
I announce splendours and majesties to make all the previous politics of
the earth insignificant.

I announce a man or woman coming--perhaps you are the one (_So long_! )
I announce the great individual, fluid as Nature, chaste, affectionate,
compassionate, fully armed.
I announce a life that shall be copious, vehement, spiritual, bold,
And I announce an old age that shall lightly and joyfully meet its
translation.


3.

O thicker and faster! (_So long_! )
O crowding too close upon me;
I foresee too much--it means more than I thought,
It appears to me I am dying.

Hasten throat, and sound your last!
Salute me--salute the days once more. Peal the old cry once more.

Screaming electric, the atmosphere using,
At random glancing, each as I notice absorbing,
Swiftly on, but a little while alighting,
Curious enveloped messages delivering,
Sparkles hot, seed ethereal, down in the dirt dropping,
Myself unknowing, my commission obeying, to question it never daring,
To ages, and ages yet, the growth of the seed leaving,
To troops out of me rising--they the tasks I have set promulging,
To women certain whispers of myself bequeathing--their affection me more
clearly explaining,
To young men my problems offering--no dallier I--I the muscle of their
brains trying,
So I pass--a little time vocal, visible, contrary,
Afterward, a melodious echo, passionately bent for--death making me really
undying,--
The best of me then when no longer visible--for toward that I have been
incessantly preparing.

What is there more, that I lag and pause, and crouch extended with unshut
mouth?
Is there a single final farewell?


4.

My songs cease--I abandon them,
From behind the screen where I hid, I advance personally, solely to you.

Camerado! This is no book;
Who touches this touches a man.
(Is it night? Are we here alone? )
It is I you hold, and who holds you,
I spring from the pages into your arms--decease calls me forth.

O how your fingers drowse me!
Your breath falls around me like dew--your pulse lulls the tympans of my
ears,
I feel immerged from head to foot,
Delicious--enough.

Enough, O deed impromptu and secret!
Enough, O gliding present! Enough, O summed-up past!


5.


Dear friend, whoever you are, here, take this kiss,
I give it especially to you--Do not forget me,

I feel like one who has done his work--I progress on,--(long enough have I
dallied with Life,)
The unknown sphere, more real than I dreamed, more direct, awakening rays
about me--_So long_!
Remember my words--I love you--I depart from materials,
I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.




POSTSCRIPT.

While this Selection was passing through the press, it has been my
privilege to receive two letters from Mr. Whitman, besides another
communicated to me through a friend. I find my experience to be the same as
that of some previous writers: that, if one admires Whitman in reading his
books, one loves him on coming into any personal relation with him--even
the comparatively distant relation of letter-writing.

The more I have to thank the poet for the substance and tone of his
letters, and some particular expressions in them, the more does it become
incumbent upon me to guard against any misapprehension. He has had nothing
whatever to do with this Selection, as to either prompting, guiding, or
even ratifying it: except only that he did not prohibit my making two or
three verbal omissions in the _Prose Preface to the Leaves of Grass_, and
he has supplied his own title, _President Lincoln's Funeral Hymn_, to a
poem which, in my Prefatory Notice, is named (by myself) _Nocturn for the
Death of Lincoln_. All admirers of his poetry will rejoice to learn that
there is no longer any doubt of his adding to his next edition "a brief
cluster of pieces born of thoughts on the deep themes of Death and
Immortality. " A new American edition will be dear to many: a complete
English edition ought to be an early demand of English poetic readers, and
would be the right and crowning result of the present Selection.

W. M. R.
1868.




*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS BY WALT WHITMAN ***

This file should be named 8388-8. txt or 8388-8. zip

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
even years after the official publication date.

Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.

Most people start at our Web sites at:
http://gutenberg. net or
http://promo. net/pg

These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free! ).


Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.

http://www. ibiblio. org/gutenberg/etext05 or
ftp://ftp. ibiblio. org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext05

Or /etext04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92,
91 or 90

Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.

Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):

eBooks Year Month

1 1971 July
10 1991 January
100 1994 January
1000 1997 August
1500 1998 October
2000 1999 December
2500 2000 December
3000 2001 November
4000 2001 October/November
6000 2002 December*
9000 2003 November*
10000 2004 January*


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.

We need your donations more than ever!

As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.
As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.

In answer to various questions we have received on this:

We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and
you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
just ask.

While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
donate.

International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.

Donations by check or money order may be sent to:

PROJECT GUTENBERG LITERARY ARCHIVE FOUNDATION
809 North 1500 West
Salt Lake City, UT 84116

Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
method other than by check or money order.

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are
tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising
requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.

We need your donations more than ever!

You can get up to date donation information online at:

http://www. gutenberg. net/donation. html


***

If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:

Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox. com>

Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.

We would prefer to send you information by email.


**The Legal Small Print**


(Three Pages)

***START**THE SMALL PRINT! **FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
Why is this "Small Print! " statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print! " statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.

*BEFORE! * YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print! " statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you! ) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.

To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print! " and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
eBook or this "small print! " statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word
processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:

[*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR

[*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR

[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print! " statement.

[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to
let us know your plans and to work out the details.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.

The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. "

If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox. com

[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
they hardware or software or any other related product without
express permission. ]

*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.