Navy, and the U. Revenue Service. His corrugated 'life car' was the keystone to development of the U. Life-Saving Service. Francis's metal bateaux and lifeboats played an important role in the Third Seminole War in Florida. His metal pontoon army wagons served in the trans-Mississippi campaigns against the Indians. In Europe, he was acclaimed as a genius and sold patent rights to shipyards in Liverpool and the Woolwich Arsenal in England, Le Havre seaport in France, in the free city of Hamburg, and in the Russian Empire.
Revenue Marine Service, claimed to be the inventor of Francis's life car and obtained support in the U. Congress and the Patent Office for his claim. Francis had to battle for decades to prove his rights, and Americans remained generally unfamiliar with his devices, thereby condemning Civil War armies to inferior copies while Europe was using, and acclaiming, his inventions. Read more Read less. No customer reviews. Share your thoughts with other customers. Write a customer review.
Pratt for her long editorial labors over the manuscript of this book. My thanks are due also to Miss Ruth Zahn for preparation of the index, to Mr.
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Richard Wright for permission to use extracts from his Indian travel diary, and to Dr. Evans-Wentz for suggestions and encouragement. My own path led me to a Christlike sage whose beautiful life was chiseled for the ages. Emerging in every generation, they have bulwarked their land against the fate of Babylon and Egypt. I find my earliest memories covering the anachronistic features of a previous incarnation. These glimpses of the past, by some dimensionless link, also afforded me a glimpse of the future. The helpless humiliations of infancy are not banished from my mind.
I was resentfully conscious of not being able to walk or express myself freely. Prayerful surges arose within me as I realized my bodily impotence. My strong emotional life took silent form as words in many languages. Among the inward confusion of tongues, my ear gradually accustomed itself to the circumambient Bengali syllables of my people.
Psychological ferment and my unresponsive body brought me to many obstinate crying-spells. I recall the general family bewilderment at my distress. These early triumphs, usually forgotten quickly, are yet a natural basis of self-confidence. My far-reaching memories are not unique. But if prophets down the millenniums spake with truth, man is essentially of incorporeal nature.
The persistent core of human egoity is only temporarily allied with sense perception. Although odd, clear memories of infancy are not extremely rare. During travels in numerous lands, I have listened to early recollections from the lips of veracious men and women. I was born in the last decade of the nineteenth century, and passed my first eight years at Gorakhpur.
George E. Buker (Author of Oldest City)
This was my birthplace in the United Provinces of northeastern India. We were eight children: four boys and four girls. I, Mukunda Lal Ghosh, 3 was the second son and the fourth child. Father and Mother were Bengalis, of the Kshatriya caste.
Their mutual love, tranquil and dignified, never expressed itself frivolously. A perfect parental harmony was the calm center for the revolving tumult of eight young lives. Father, Bhagabati Charan Ghosh, was kind, grave, at times stern. Loving him dearly, we children yet observed a certain reverential distance.
An outstanding mathematician and logician, he was guided principally by his intellect. But Mother was a queen of hearts, and taught us only through love.
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After her death, Father displayed more of his inner tenderness. Instruction and chastisement went hand in hand. His work involved traveling, and our family lived in several cities during my childhood. Mother held an open hand toward the needy. Father was also kindly disposed, but his respect for law and order extended to the budget. She ordered a hackney carriage, not hinting to the children at any disagreement. We broke into astounded lamentations. Our maternal uncle arrived opportunely; he whispered to Father some sage counsel, garnered no doubt from the ages.
After Father had made a few conciliatory remarks, Mother happily dismissed the cab. Thus ended the only trouble I ever noticed between my parents. But I recall a characteristic discussion. One is enough. My only breakfast, before walking miles to my school, was a small banana.
Later, at the university, I was in such need that I applied to a wealthy judge for aid of one rupee per month. He declined, remarking that even a rupee is important. Give it to her with my good will.
If I could bolster up my numerous requests with one or two good arguments, he invariably put the coveted goal within my reach, whether it were a vacation trip or a new motorcycle. Father was a strict disciplinarian to his children in their early years, but his attitude toward himself was truly Spartan. He never visited the theater, for instance, but sought his recreation in various spiritual practices and in reading the Bhagavad Gita. His sons bought automobiles after they came into popular use, but Father was always content with the trolley car for his daily ride to the office.
The accumulation of money for the sake of power was alien to his nature. Once, after organizing the Calcutta Urban Bank, he refused to benefit himself by holding any of its shares. He had simply wished to perform a civic duty in his spare time. Several years after Father had retired on a pension, an English accountant arrived to examine the books of the Bengal-Nagpur Railway Company.
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The amazed investigator discovered that Father had never applied for overdue bonuses. He thought so little about it that he overlooked any mention to the family. Much later he was questioned by my youngest brother Bishnu, who noticed the large deposit on a bank statement. He knows that man arrives penniless in this world, and departs without a single rupee. Early in their married life, my parents became disciples of a great master, Lahiri Mahasaya of Benares.
Abinash instructed my young ears with engrossing tales of many Indian saints. He invariably concluded with a tribute to the superior glories of his own guru. It was on a lazy summer afternoon, as Abinash and I sat together in the compound of my home, that he put this intriguing question. I shook my head with a smile of anticipation.
Your father ridiculed my plan. He dismissed his servants and conveyance, and fell into step beside me. Seeking to console me, he pointed out the advantages of striving for worldly success. But I heard him listlessly. I cannot live without seeing you!
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We paused in admiration. There in the field, only a few yards from us, the form of my great guru suddenly appeared! He vanished as mysteriously as he had come. Lahiri Mahasaya! I must know this great Lahiri Mahasaya, who is able to materialize himself at will in order to intercede for you! I will take my wife and ask this master to initiate us in his spiritual path. Will you guide us to him? Entering his little parlor, we bowed before the master, enlocked in his habitual lotus posture. He blinked his piercing eyes and leveled them on your father.
Lahiri Mahasaya took a definite interest in your own birth. Lahiri Mahasaya left this world shortly after I had entered it. His picture, in an ornate frame, always graced our family altar in the various cities to which Father was transferred by his office.
https://bransupseaven.tk Many a morning and evening found Mother and me meditating before an improvised shrine, offering flowers dipped in fragrant sandalwood paste. With frankincense and myrrh as well as our united devotions, we honored the divinity which had found full expression in Lahiri Mahasaya.
His picture had a surpassing influence over my life. As I grew, the thought of the master grew with me.