THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES LEET LIVVY LEET LIVVY BY J. S. FLETCHER London : Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd. 3 Adam Street, Adelphi, W.C.2. 1919 First issued (privately) in 1915 New Edition 1919 All rights reserved t,e LEET LIVVY DEEAD, dosta saay ? owd Maltha ? owd Mattha o' Marlby Moor ? Dee'd while agaate of his braikfast ? why didn't they tell ma afoor ? I been up at t' chu'ch all t' mornin', an' I could ha' pulled for him then, An' now here's mi dinner on t' table ; tha mun wait till I've noytered misen. Soa he's deead, is Mattha, is a ? went off of a suddin, like ? Summat es leeaves falls off an' harstles awaay i' th' dyke. Nowt ta foretell 'at they're gooin' ; it's offens th' saame wi' us ; Weel, Mattha 'ud hev no objections ; he wor nivver t' man for a fuss. 652910 6 LEET LIVVY Dee'd sittin' up i' his chair, agaate of his braik- fast, ya saay ? Aye, some on 'em goas saame as that, an' some on 'em halts bi t' waay. But they all hev to goa, mi lad, they all hev ta goa, chewse how ! I owt ta knaw bi this time ; I ha' pulled for a many bi now. Three for a bairn, an' six for a woman, an' nine for a man ! That's what mi feyather larn'd ma to pull when I fo'st began ; Wi' a extry stroake for eaach year as iwer they'd been alive. I shall hev a stiff pull ta-daay : owd Mattha wor seventy-five. Cowd, dosta saay, comin' here ta Marlby fra ovver yon hill ? Hev a sup o' aale ta warm thi theer's t' pot tha can tak' thi fill ; Theer's plenty more wheer that cam' fro' ; tha needn't ta hev noa fear : I suddn't be what I am, lad, if it worrn't for beef an' beer. LEET LIVVY 7 Seventy-five wor Maltha, but I'm gooin' i' seventy-three. Tha's nooan been sa long wi' Mattha thi faace is straange ta me. Come t' last Martlemas, did ta ? An' how hesta liked thi plaace ? Sourish o' temper, wor Mattha ; he'd niwer a smile ta his faace ? Why, Mattha he hed his reasons ; theer's some as is soured when young, An' Mattha hed plenty o' reasons for keepin' a sharp-set tongue ; He'd been bitten i' love as a young 'un, and t' bite wor foul an' deep, An' he niwer forgat it, did Mattha, onless he wor drunk or asleep. Started i' life reight weel, at yon farm upo' Marlby Moor ; Heead screwed tight on his showthers, th' saame as his feyather afore ; Knew a taate fro' a tonnup, an' wrastled while other fowk slep', An' he scratted for brass all his daays, an' all 'at he scratted he kep'. 8 LEET LIVVY Cut up varry weel, will Maltha ; thee wait till I've ligged him cloa.se ! Niwer wor married, tha knaws, but theer's newies ta get their doa.se. I'll lay 'at they're noan on 'em sorry ta hear 'at he's browt ta t' graave, Aye, cut up a good 'un, he will he nivver did nowt but saave. t or tha sees, when Mattha wor bitten, it tonn'd him back on hisself ; Thowt niwer noa more o' wimmen, nor o' nowt but getherin' pelf ; An' he's gethered, I say, to some purpose but once, tha mun understand, He'd ha' given all t' gowd i' t' warld for t' touch of a lass's hand. He wor summat o' thy aage at that time what ar'ta ? twenty-three ? Limmer and leet on his toas, wi' a roaguish glint i' his e'e. Allus a faav'rite wi' t' lasses ; he'd nobbut ta chewse an' pick ; An' he maa.de his choice, did Mattha, an' he chewsed a crooked stick. LEET LIVVY 9 Not but what t' lass wor weel-faavour'd ; she wor reight enough i' her looks ; Bit of a beauty shoo wor, like them as ya read on i' t' books ; But vaane, mi lad, varry vaane, an' flighty, an' soft efter men ; Laady's maad at th' Hall shoo wor an' t' Hall wor a bad plaace then. For t' Squire wor raakish and raffish, an' his wife wor inclined ta be gaay, An' they tonn'd iwry daay inta neet, an' ivvry neet inta daay, An' t' lass tewk efter her missis, an' allus wor makkin' e'es, An' shoo maade 'em, tha knaws, at Mattha, an' Mattha grew wake i' t' knees. He wor sattled for ivver, wor Mattha ; hev her he must an' would ! For he cam' of a maisterful raa.ce, an' wor hot wi' maisterful blood, An' he gat round t' Squire' missis, an' t' missis shoo talked to t' lass ; An' t' text o' iwery sarmon shoo preeached wor Mattha' brass. 2 io LEET LIVVY Sich a chance ! the chance of a lifetime ! sich a steady an' fine young chap ! One as could gown her i' silk, an' chuck a. fat purse i' her lap, A chance i' a thousand ! nivver wor lass soa lucky afoor. But t' lass wor fond o' life, an' it's dowly o' Marlby Moor. An' shoo tonn'd up her noase, did Livvy ; shoo wodn't be buried alive, An' shoo wodn't saay nowt to Mattha, how- iwer t' missis might strive, But Mattha he'd maade up his mind, an' he nivver wo'd let her alooan, An' they said 'at the waay 'at he pled wo'd ha' melted a heart o' stooan. An' him an' t' missis gat round her wi' talk o' what he wo'd do ; Live like a laady shoo should, an' nivver need mucky a shoe ; An' he'd furnish i' t' latest style, an' keep her an extra lass ; An' i' t' end shoo gev in, an' shoo promised to wed him at Martlemas. LEET LIVVY u Proud as a peacock wor Mattha, an' wared his brass like a king ; Set up new chairs and taables, and bowt her a di'mond ring. It wor June when shoo gev him her word, an' t' rooases wor red i' th' laane : But Mattha he nivver could bide th' sect of a rooase agaane. For t' Squire wor allus fillin' his house wi' a raakish crowd ; Come'd and goa'd as they pleeased, wi' ivvery license allowed ; Gam'led an' supped like Owd Harry it wor t' feshion for t' quality then, An' one on 'em gat round Livvy, an' Livvy wor wake wi' men. One on 'em gat round Liwy, an' Livvy, tha sees, wor wake ; It wor Mattha' brass 'at shoo cared for, an' little for Mattha' sake ; An' shoo tewk her pleasure wi' t' feller, an' t' feller he went awaay, An' he thowt noa more o' Livvy, an' Livvy wor left ta paay. 12 LEET LIVVY An' at t' last it all cam' out, for Livvy shoo bed ta tell ; An' t' missis, shoo tell'd it ta Mattha, an' Mattha went down ta Hell. An' he bided i' flaames and torments, an' they bonn'd him fierce an' strong, Till they'd bonn'd awaay his marcy, an' he thowt o' nowt but his wrong. An' he wodn't hear o' forgiveness, howivver they begged an' straave ; Forgive her ? Aye, he'd forgive her when one on 'em cam' to t' graave ! For tha sees, he wor proud, wor Mattha, an' his pride hed been cut to t' quick, An' it maddled him waur nor madness 'at he'd chozzen a crooked stick. An' Liwy shoo cam' to her trouble wi' noaan to stan' her by ; For t' missis hed fish of her awn, of another soaart, to fry ; An' t' Squire he laughed when they tell'd him, an' t' sarvents they lewked aside, An' Livvy shoo wedded wi' shaame, isteead o' bein' Mattha' bride. LEET LIVVY 13 An' somewheer shoo went, tha knows, ta hide her shaame an' disgraa.ce, An' Mattha he stalked about t' land wi' a black an' a scowlin' faace, An' he tewk to t' drink for a piece, an' went efter wimmen an' all, But he niwer could mak' hissen drunk, an' t'wimmen began to stall. Soa he sooin wor tired o' wimmen, an' he tonn'd off t' sarvent lass ; Wodn't hev a woman i' t' house, an' tewk ta scrattin' for brass ; Did his awn housekeeping too, an' started ta fend for hissen, An' he niwer hed nowt to saay when he met wi' other men. An' he drave hard barg'ins at t' markit, an' treeated poor fowk hard, An' t' Parson, he hed ta warn him about his etarnal reward, But he damned at t' Parson, did Mattha, an' he sweered 'at theer warn't noa God : An' he passed t' Parson' missis i' t' rooad, an' nivver gev her a nod. 14 LEET LIVVY An* soa it cam', dosta see, 'at Mattha wor left alooan, For he hedn't noa bowels o' marcy, an' his heart wor tonn'd to stooan ; An' he sate by hissen i' t' house, an' wodn't hev noa one theer, An' he niwer rade through t' village but t' bairns shrenk off i' fear. But Livvy shoo drifted awaay, an' shoo went to London town, An' shoo traaded her body for brass, an' her soul for a fine new gown, An' I knew o' them as see'd her, an' they said as shoo tewk her stand, An' offered what sich-like offers, i' a plaace 'at they call the Strand. But Livvy wor nivver a f ooil ; shoo knew what wor what, did that ! Sharp as Mattha, shoo wor, where'er theer wor brass to be gat. An' shoo sell'd her wares to 'vantage, an' niwer cheeapened hersel', An' shoo sammed up gowd an' silver down theer on th' floors o' Hell. LEET LIVVY 15 I nivver see'd her i' London I nivver set foot i' t' plaace ! But 't wor said 'at shoo lewked like a laady, an' wor dallackt i' silk an' laace, An" a chap 'at wor noan partik'lar he tewk her to t' chu'ch one daay, An' maade her a honest woman, an' Livvy threw t' past awaay. Kep' a public, somewheer i' London, this feller 'at Livvy wed, See'd her i' t' bar one day, a chap fro' Marlby hed; Pleaased ta see him shoo wor, an' axed him about owd times, An' interduced him to t' husband, an' wor merry as May-Day chimes. An' t' feller cam' hooam an' tell'd as how Leet Liwy wor wed, An' ware a ring on her finger, an' ligged i' a honest bed ; An' t' news on it ran through Marlby, an' Mattha he come ta hear, An' he laughed for t'onnly time i' summat like fifty year. 16 LEET LIWY An' a chap 'at he met at t' markit, as hed drucken below his peg, He cracked a jooake about Livvy, an' thowt ta pull Mattha' leg. But Mattha he tuk him bi t' throoat, an' nivver a wo'd he said, An' he flang him haafe way across t' street, an' they picked t' chap up for dead. An' it gat about 'at Mattha worn't saafe, an' they let him alooan, For his faace wor like yon image 'at's carved on t' tower i' stooan, An' what few wo'ds he spake wor bitter an' sharp as gall : An' all of a sudden Leet Livvy cam' back to Marlby Hall. For a deeal o' things hed happened up theer at t' Hall o' laate ; For t' Squire he brok' his neck, lowpin' ower a five-barred gaate, An' t' missis shoo wanted owd faaces, an' tonn'd her French maid awaay, Shoo mun hev Livvy back, shoo mun an' shoo sent for Liwy to staay. LEET LIVVY 17 An' Livvy wor widdered an' all, for t' chap at shoo'd hooked wor deead, Tummled down t' cellar steps, an' leeted on t' crown o' his heead ; An' Liwy cam' in for his brass houses, an' stocks, an' shares ; Soa Liwy wor quite th' laady, an' gev hersen laady's airs. An' shoo peacocked ta t' chu'ch o' Sunda', for all shoo wor gowned i' black, An' shoo sate i' a pew bi hersen, an' fowk tittered behind her back ; An' they gethered i' t' pooarch efter t' sarvice, an' stared as shoo passed 'em by, But Livvy shoo carried a Prayer-Book, an' her thowts wor fixed on high. A reight fine woman, shoo wor, mind ! Mrs. Primmer her naame wor ; then ; Sooart o' woman, tha knaws, 'at's allus run efter bi' t' men ; 'Caasioned a deeal o' gossip, an' Mattha he heeard fowk talk, An' they said 'at he started ta dither, an' tonn'd as white as a mawk. 3 i8 LEET LIVVY Kep' ta hissen did Mattha ne'er cam' off o' Marlby Moor, An' saave when he went on t' land ne'er showed his nooa.se out o' t' door ; Hooaped, dosta see, 'at Livvy 'ud traipse off to London agaane, But Liwy shoo laad her plans, an' shoo met him i' Marlby Laane. An' noabody nivver knawed what passed atween 'em that daay, But Mattha gat sect o' me nex' tune I wor gooin' that waay, An' he fetched ma into t' house, an* filled ma a jug o' aale, An' afoor I knew what he wor efter, he'd started to tell his taale. " Th'art t' saxton an' t' clerk," he says, " an' thi traade's to crooak Aw-men ! But when t' prayin' an' t' preeachin's done wi', th'art nowt but a man, thisen ; An' tha knows what man is maade on, an' I'll tell thi, plaan an' free, For I willn't talk ta t' Parson, but I dooant mind talkin' ta thee. LEET LIVVY 19 " An' I want ta ax tha a question, an' I want tha ta tell ma straight, As if tha wor stannin' thi trial up theer at th' narra gaate, For I've allus held tha a wise 'un, I knaw 'at tha's plenty o' gawm : Dosta think 'at iwer t' Devil goas about i' human form ? " Tak' thi time doant speyk i' a hurry hear all 'at I've getten to saay. I met but tha knaws who I meean i' t' laane theer, t'other daay. An' I niwer held wi' witches, an' I niwer believed i' a spell, But I tell tha I'm plaagued wi' torments as if I wor deep i' Hell ! " For I haate her, waur nor iwer, but shoo pulls, shoo pulls, all t' saame ; An' haafe o' ma's cowd as snaw, an' t'other haafe's hot wi' flaame ; An' theer's times I could rive her to regs, an' stamp 'em under mi heel ! But theer's summat shoe's tee'd around ma 'at's tougher nor onny steel. 20 LEET LIVVY " Th'art acquainted wi' t' Bible, saxton, an' tha knaws how things began. T' sarpent, he tempted t' woman, an' t' woman shoo tempted t' man. But doesn't it meean at t' Devil he'd entered i' woman then, An' 'at wimmen is maade as they are for t' purpose o' 'ticin' men ? " Hows'iwer, thee answer my question." But theer I shewk mi heead. " I'd rayther ye'd goa to t' Parson, an' tak' his counsel isteead ; Nay, goa to t' Parson, maister ! " I says, an' I says it agaane. But Mattha he damned at t' Parson, an' he went that neet ta t' laane. Soa t' year o' mournin' wor done, an' Liwy shoo flang off her black, An' shoo saaled up t' aisle t' next Sunda' wi' breet blue silk on her back, An' t' men stared oppen-mouthed, but t' wimmen grew red wi' shaame, An' Liwy shoo stuck to t' Prayer-Book, an' went as bold as shoo caame. LEET LIVVY 21 Theer worrn't noa shaamin' Liwy ; shoo'd brass of her awn, ya see, As weel as t' brass 'at Primmer bed maa.de or he cam' to dee, An' shoo reckoned hersen weel whiteweshed, whatiwer shoo'd been afoor, An' shoo meant to be Mistress Martin, up theer upo' Marlby Moor. Hesta ivver stood o' yon hill, when a hawk wor hengin' i' t' sky, Lewkin' down on a bo'd beneath wi' a sharp an' a wetchin' eye ? It wor soa 'at Liwy wetched Mattha, an' Mattha grew moythered, like, An' Liwy shoo waated an' howered till t' moament wor come to strike. An' fowk see'd what wor goin' on, an' they started to talk an' sneer, For they knawed th' sooart o' life 'at shoo'd lived up i' London theer, An' owd Mestur Pratt o' Pigsby, he wor shaamed at th' comin' disgraace, An' he rade ower t' hill ta Mattha, an' he telled him t' truth to his faace. 22 LEET LIWY " I knawed thi feyather afoor tha ; th'art come of a good owd stock. Nivver wor knawn a Martin 'at worrn't as firm as a rock For stannin' by all 'at's reight, an' they 'arned a deeal o' respect. But tha's brekkin' t' rule, mi lad, an' I hoape 'at tha'll staay ta reflect. "Arta that wake 'at tha can't leeave goa o' yon woman' skirt ? Skirt 'at's fahled an' filthied wi' t' dreggin's o' London dirt ! Wilta tak' up straange men's leeavins, not left i' a honest waay ? Thi feyather 'ud lowp i' his graave if he nobbut could see this daay ! " Could ta ho'd up thi heead at markit if tha wedded wi' sich as yon, As can nivver wipe out t'reflections on all 'at's past an' gone ? Owered an' done wi', happen, but thou wod'st nivver forget, An' theer ne'er wor a brokken pot remaade to a sound 'un yet ! LEET LIVVY 23 " T' cracks an' t' seeams'll be theer, howivver ya fare wi' t' mend ! Tak' tent o' thi doin's, mi lad I could like to stan' thi friend. Put her cleean out o' thi mind, an' be thi awn man agaane ! " But Mattha, he nivver said nowt, an' he met her that neet i' t' laane. An' Sunda' cam' round, an' spurrin's time, an' t' Parson oppened his book : " I publish the banns of marriage," he says, an' his owd voice shook, An' t' fowk pricked up their ears, an* what wor expected caame, An' ya could ha' heerd a pin drop, till som'dy shahted " Shaame ! " An' Livvy wor theer, an' shoo hed no shaame, an' shoo nivver tonn'd a hair ; Maa.de as if nowt hed happened, an' gev back stare for stare ; An' t' Parson cut t' sarmon short, for t' fowk 'ud listen noa more, An' Poll Smith beealed out " Trollop ! " when Livvy marched off fro' t' door. 24 LEET LIVVY Baddish time it wor then ! for all t' village wor set bi t' ears, An' t' better sooart wor afraid, an' t' Parson, he hed his fears. An' he went ta Mattha on t' quiet, an' begged him to wed elsewheer ; But Mattha' pride wor up, an' he sware 'at he'd wed her theer. Wed her i' t' chu'ch, he wo'd, an' he'd walk her through Marlby street ; Do it i' dayleet he wo'd, aboveboard, i' all men's sect ; Noa hoales-an' -corners for him, an' he darr'd 'em ta saay him naay ! An' t' Parson went on wi' t' spurrin's, an' it cam' ta t' weddin' daay. An' early that daay two straangers draave quietly up ta t' Hall ; Come i' a clooased-in carriage, like quality payin' a call ; An' t' carriage draave back i' a while, an' Livvy wor saafe inside, An' shoo spent that neet i' jail, isteead o' bein Mattha' bride. LEET LIVVY 25 An' t' taale come out t' next daay, an' a niceish taale it were ; Niwer wor nowt i' Marlby afoor 'at hed maa.de sich a stir ! For Liwy hed browt forth a bairn or iwer shoo'd been a wife, An' her an' another woman hed maa.de awaay wi' it' life. Telled it, hed t'other woman ; could keep it back noa moare ; Mun tell it or iwer shoo dee'd, an shoo proved it behind an' bef oare ; An' shoo threaped 'at Liwy hed been as bad an' warse nor hersen. Soa Liwy wor left to t' Law, an' t' Law wor a hard 'un then. Hedn't noa marcy at t' 'Sizes ; they harstled 'em inta t' dock, An' harstled 'em off ta t' gallows, as sooin as t' Judge hed spok' ; They henged 'em for steealin' a sheep, an' they henged 'em i' public, an' all ; An' they henged Liwy Primmer one mornin' i' front o' Granchester Wall. 4 26 LEET LIVVY An' Maltha he went ta t' 'Sizes, an' he set whol they tried th' caase. An' his e'es they wor fixed like gimlets on Livvy Primmer's faace ; An' i' t' end shoo maade for to speyk, but t' wo'ds they stuck i' her throat, An' shoo lifted her faace to Mattha, an' Mattha he nivver said nowt. Cam' hooam like a man i' a dreeam, an' walked as if he wor blind, An' t' talk it ran round Marlby 'at Mattha'd goan out of his mind ; An' t' day o' t' hengin' caame, an' Mattha gat up wi' t' sun, An' he raade ta Granchester Wall, to wetch till t' job wor done. An' t' rooads 'at Mattha raade by they wor busy an' black wi' men, For ivverybody mun goa I wor young, an' I went misen But Mattha seed nowt an' noa one, an' he tewk his stand bi me, An' he didn't know who I wor, an' I darrn't meet his e'e. LEET LIVVY 27 An' t' sun rooase heigh ovver t' town, an' it flaamed on t' Minster spire, Till t' cross 'at's set aboon all shone out like a maaze o' fire, An' t' fowk they gabbed an' they chattered till t' Minster clock struck eight, An' t' sheriff an' t' hengman an' Livvy caame out o' t' Castle Gaate. An' t' gabbin' an' t' chatterin' wor done, an' t' fowk grew still as mice, An' Mattha tewk grip o' my arm, an' his hand wor waur nor a vice. An' theer wor me as hed allus been sort o' hand i' hand wi' Death An' couldn't lewk noa more ! an' Mattha he held his breath. An' he drawed his breath, an' I knew it wor done, an' theer worn't noa more to see ; An' Mattha he bent his heead, an' he maade awaay fro' me ; An' t' fowk they seeamed ta wonder whatiwer hed drawn 'em theer. But Mattha he begged for t' body, an' he browt an' buried it here. 28 LEET LIVVY Wi' ta hev some moar aale ? Tha weern't ? Then we'll off, an' we'll pull yon bell. Tha can gi' ma a hand wi' t' pullin' ; th'art noan as owd as raise!' ; An' I'll larn tha ta pull as mi feyather larnt ma when fost I began. Three for a bairn, an' six for a woman, an' nine for a man. Theer's t' plaace 'at I meean for Mattha, an' yon's wheer Livvy laays ; Noan sa far off of each other, tha sees, at t' end o' their daays. But wheerivver their souls maay be ! naay, that ye mun tak' on trust. I ha* nowt to do wi' their souls my traade is wi' deead men's dust. THE END GLOSSARY 5. Agaate of . . occupied with. 5. Noytered . . nurtured. 5. Harstles . . hurries. 10. Dowly . . lonely. 14. Sammed . . gathered. 15. Dallackt . . bedizened. 17. Dither . . tremble. 17. Mawk . . maggot. 19. Gawm . . common sense. 21. Moythered . bewildered. 23. Spurrin's . . banns of marriage. 23. Beealed . . bawled. 25. Threaped . . asserted forcibly. 27. Gabbed . . talked incessantly. PRINTED BY HAZEL!,, WATSON AND VINEY, LD. LONDON AND AYLESBUKY. OPINIONS OF CRITICS " LEET LIWY is as sober and restrained as one of the verse-tales of Crabbe. Mr. Fletcher, whose reputation as a novelist is deservedly high, has ren- dered the narrative with consummate art. The use of dialect enhances the directness and dramatic realism of the story at every turn ; the characters stand out sharp and clear, and we are brought face to face with the passion that makes for tragedy. The poem is purged clean of all sentiment and moralising : it is narrative pure and simple, but aglow with the lurid flame of a passion that burns to the very roots of life. It is no exaggeration to say that LEET LIWY is the greatest achievement in Yorkshire dialect poetry up to the present time." F. W. Moorman, Ph.D., Professor of the English Language, University of Leeds, in Introduction to " Yorkshire Dialect Poems, 1673-1915." " A most interesting testimony of the living force of a modern dialect." Allen Mawer, M.A., Professor of the English Language, Armstrong College, University of Durham. " A very notable contribution to Yorkshire dialect literature, and I trust it will have an effect in lead- ing to an increased use of this strong, racy dialect for poetical and literary purposes." G. C. Moore Smith, Litt.D., Professor of the English Language, Sheffield University. OPINIONS OF CRITICS (continued) " The chief contribution to Yorkshire dialect litera- ture during the past year is Mr. J. S. Fletcher's poem, LEET LIVVY. . . . this poignant and dramatic verse tale . . . the most ambitious piece of work that has yet appeared in the Yorkshire vernacular." Yorkshire Dialect Society's Transactions, 1916. " Told with remarkable power ... a very welcome addition to Yorkshire dialect literature." Yorkshire Weekly Post. " A powerful story, strongly told, of a man's fierce passion, and a woman's viciousness and shamelessness and her death by the hangman's hands . . . lovers of verse should not miss it." Glasgow Herald. " Something of a curiosity in literature . . . the poem is an interesting experiment in a neglected field of which the acreage is fast diminishing." Observer. " LEET LIWY has a pathos and rough humour racy of the soil, and shows us once more Mr. Flet- cher's power, manifested in so many excellent novels, of painting Yorkshire life and character." Oxford Chronicle. " A remarkable success . . . told with conspicuous energy and dramatic power. Mr. Fletcher has already won fame as a novelist and portrayer of Yorkshire life, and we welcome his new venture in dialect poetry ; he has shown once for all the dramatic capacity of the dialect, and has produced a poem which deserves to live." Yorkshire Post. E--; UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-42ro-8,'49(B5573)444 THE I UNIVERSITY OF CAL1FOKW/ LOS ANGELES 5 R L F SEE SPINE FOR BARCODE NUMBER PR 6011 F63 1