diff --git a/.gitlab-ci.yml b/.gitlab-ci.yml index 8e553a8..5a28f14 100644 --- a/.gitlab-ci.yml +++ b/.gitlab-ci.yml @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ build: - image: ${CI_DEPENDENCY_PROXY_DIRECT_GROUP_IMAGE_PREFIX}/texlive/texlive:latest + image: texlive/texlive:latest script: - lualatex The\ Book\ of\ Wonder.tex || true - lualatex The\ Book\ of\ Wonder.tex || true diff --git a/README.md b/README.md index 2588933..f26b9b7 100644 --- a/README.md +++ b/README.md @@ -1,7 +1,5 @@ -[![pipeline status](https://git.fifo-f.eu/tex-projects/books/the-book-of-wonder/badges/main/pipeline.svg)](https://git.fifo-f.eu/tex-projects/books/the-book-of-wonder/-/commits/main) - # The Book of Wonder Typeset version of ‘The Book of Wonder’ by Lord Dunsany. -To download the PDF, see the [releases page](https://git.fifo-f.eu/tex-projects/books/the-book-of-wonder/-/releases). +> **Disclaimer:** Work in progress – the book’s not complete yet. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/about-the-author.tex b/content/about-the-author.tex index bd7ca56..4311582 100644 --- a/content/about-the-author.tex +++ b/content/about-the-author.tex @@ -8,6 +8,6 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{About the Author} \end{ChapterStart} -\textsc{Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett}, 18\textsuperscript{th} Baron of Dunsany (1878–1957), \textsc{frsl frgs}, commonly known as \emph{Lord Dunsany}, was an Anglo-Irish writer and dramatist. He published more than 90 books during his lifetime, and his output consisted of hundreds of short stories, plays, novels, and essays. +\textsc{To be} filled in \dotfill{} \cleartorecto \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter10.tex b/content/chapter10.tex index c6f02ae..37b06e0 100644 --- a/content/chapter10.tex +++ b/content/chapter10.tex @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{His Art Upon the Gnoles} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{D}\kern-0.5pt\textsc{espite the advertisements} of rival firms, it is probable that every tradesman knows that nobody in business at the present time has a position equal to that of Mr.\ Nuth. To those outside the magic circle of business, his name is scarcely known; he does not need to advertise, he is consummate. He is superior even to modern competition, and, whatever claims they boast, his rivals know it. His terms are moderate, so much cash down when the goods are delivered, so much in blackmail afterwards. He consults your convenience. His skill may be counted upon; I have seen a shadow on a windy night move more noisily than Nuth, for Nuth is a burglar by trade. Men have been known to stay in country houses and to send a dealer afterwards to bargain for a piece of tapestry that they saw there⁠—some article of furniture, some picture. This is bad taste: but those whose culture is more elegant invariably send Nuth a night or two after their visit. He has a way with tapestry; you would scarcely notice that the edges had been cut. And often when I see some huge, new house full of old furniture and portraits from other ages, I say to myself, “These mouldering chairs, these full-length ancestors and carved mahogany are the produce of the incomparable Nuth.” +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{D}\textsc{espite the advertisements} of rival firms, it is probable that every tradesman knows that nobody in business at the present time has a position equal to that of Mr.\ Nuth. To those outside the magic circle of business, his name is scarcely known; he does not need to advertise, he is consummate. He is superior even to modern competition, and, whatever claims they boast, his rivals know it. His terms are moderate, so much cash down when the goods are delivered, so much in blackmail afterwards. He consults your convenience. His skill may be counted upon; I have seen a shadow on a windy night move more noisily than Nuth, for Nuth is a burglar by trade. Men have been known to stay in country houses and to send a dealer afterwards to bargain for a piece of tapestry that they saw there⁠—some article of furniture, some picture. This is bad taste: but those whose culture is more elegant invariably send Nuth a night or two after their visit. He has a way with tapestry; you would scarcely notice that the edges had been cut. And often when I see some huge, new house full of old furniture and portraits from other ages, I say to myself, “These mouldering chairs, these full-length ancestors and carved mahogany are the produce of the incomparable Nuth.” It may be urged against my use of the word incomparable that in the burglary business the name of Slith stands paramount and alone; and of this I am not ignorant; but Slith is a classic, and lived long ago, and knew nothing at all of modern competition; besides which the surprising nature of his doom has possibly cast a glamour upon Slith that exaggerates in our eyes his undoubted merits. @@ -49,5 +49,4 @@ Nuth looked on for a while from the corner of the house with a mild surprise on “And did they catch Nuth?”\ you ask me, gentle reader. -“Oh, no, my child” (for such a question is childish). “Nobody ever catches Nuth.” -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +“Oh, no, my child” (for such a question is childish). “Nobody ever catches Nuth.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter11.tex b/content/chapter11.tex index 52e9ed4..2194e1e 100644 --- a/content/chapter11.tex +++ b/content/chapter11.tex @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{told, to the City of Never} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-3pt\textsc{he child that played} about the terraces and gardens in sight of the Surrey hills never knew that it was he that should come to the Ultimate City, never knew that he should see the Under Pits, the barbicans and the holy minarets of the mightiest city known. I think of him now as a child with a little red watering-can going about the gardens on a summer’s day that lit the warm south country, his imagination delighted with all tales of quite little adventures, and all the while there was reserved for him that feat at which men wonder. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-2pt\textsc{he child that played} about the terraces and gardens in sight of the Surrey hills never knew that it was he that should come to the Ultimate City, never knew that he should see the Under Pits, the barbicans and the holy minarets of the mightiest city known. I think of him now as a child with a little red watering-can going about the gardens on a summer’s day that lit the warm south country, his imagination delighted with all tales of quite little adventures, and all the while there was reserved for him that feat at which men wonder. Looking in other directions, away from the Surrey hills, through all his infancy he saw that precipice that, wall above wall and mountain above mountain, stands at the edge of the World, and in perpetual twilight alone with the Moon and the Sun holds up the inconceivable City of Never. To tread its streets he was destined; prophecy knew it. He had the magic halter, and a worn old rope it was; an old wayfaring woman had given it to him: it had the power to hold any animal whose race had never known captivity, such as the unicorn, the hippogriff Pegasus, dragons and wyverns; but with a lion, giraffe, camel or horse it was useless. @@ -23,5 +23,4 @@ There watched him ceaselessly from the Under Pits those eyes whose duty it is; f And he that was destined alone of men to come to the City of Never was well content to behold it as he trotted down its agate street, with the wings of his hippogriff furled, seeing at either side of him marvel on marvel of which even China is ignorant. Then as he neared the city’s further rampart by which no inhabitant stirred, and looked in a direction to which no houses faced with any rose-pink windows, he suddenly saw far-off, dwarfing the mountains, an even greater city. Whether that city was built upon the twilight or whether it rose from the coasts of some other world he did not know. He saw it dominate the City of Never, and strove to reach it; but at this unmeasured home of unknown colossi the hippogriff shied frantically, and neither the magic halter nor anything that he did could make the monster face it. At last, from the City of Never’s lonely outskirts where no inhabitants walked, the rider turned slowly earthward. He knew now why all the windows faced this way⁠—the denizens of the twilight gazed at the world and not at a greater than them. Then from the last step of the earthward stairway, like lead past the Under Pits and down the glittering face of Toldenarba, down from the overshadowed glories of the gold-tipped City of Never and out of perpetual twilight, swooped the man on his winged monster: the wind that slept at the time leaped up like a dog at their onrush, it uttered a cry and ran past them. Down on the World it was morning; night was roaming away with his cloak trailed behind him, white mists turned over and over as he went, the orb was grey but it glittered, lights blinked surprisingly in early windows, forth over wet, dim fields went cows from their houses: even in this hour touched the fields again the feet of the hippogriff. And the moment that the man dismounted and took off his magic halter the hippogriff flew slanting away with a whirr, going back to some airy dancing-place of his people. -And he that surmounted glittering Toldenarba and came alone of men to the City of Never has his name and his fame among nations; but he and the people of that twilit city well know two things unguessed by other men, they that there is another city fairer than theirs, and he⁠—a deed unaccomplished. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +And he that surmounted glittering Toldenarba and came alone of men to the City of Never has his name and his fame among nations; but he and the people of that twilit city well know two things unguessed by other men, they that there is another city fairer than theirs, and he⁠—a deed unaccomplished. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter12.tex b/content/chapter12.tex index a6a8644..d0b5ce6 100644 --- a/content/chapter12.tex +++ b/content/chapter12.tex @@ -37,5 +37,4 @@ Slowly, with music when the trumpets sounded, came up towards him from we know n The doctors downstairs were sitting over their supper, the warders softly slipped from room to room, and when in that cosy dormitory of Hanwell they saw the king still standing erect and royal, his face resolute, they came up to him and addressed him: -“Go to bed,” they said⁠—“pretty bed.” So he lay down and soon was fast asleep: the great day was over. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +“Go to bed,” they said⁠—“pretty bed.” So he lay down and soon was fast asleep: the great day was over. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter13.tex b/content/chapter13.tex index bac5a97..1444f25 100644 --- a/content/chapter13.tex +++ b/content/chapter13.tex @@ -54,5 +54,4 @@ That is how Chu-bu came into my possession when I travelled once beyond the hill And there is something so helpless about Chu-bu with his fat hands stuck up in the air that sometimes I am moved out of compassion to bow down to him and pray, saying, “O Chu-bu, thou that made everything, help thy servant.” -Chu-bu cannot do much, though once I am sure that at a game of bridge he sent me the ace of trumps after I had not held a card worth having for the whole of the evening. And chance alone could have done as much as that for me. But I do not tell this to Chu-bu. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +Chu-bu cannot do much, though once I am sure that at a game of bridge he sent me the ace of trumps after I had not held a card worth having for the whole of the evening. And chance alone could have done as much as that for me. But I do not tell this to Chu-bu. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter14.tex b/content/chapter14.tex index 51ec99f..626518e 100644 --- a/content/chapter14.tex +++ b/content/chapter14.tex @@ -7,7 +7,7 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{The Wonderful Window} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-3pt\textsc{he old man} in the Oriental-looking robe was being moved on by the police, and it was this that attracted to him and the parcel under his arm the attention of Mr.\ Sladden, whose livelihood was earned in the emporium of Messrs.\ Mergin and Chater, that is to say in their establishment. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-2pt\textsc{he old man} in the Oriental-looking robe was being moved on by the police, and it was this that attracted to him and the parcel under his arm the attention of Mr.\ Sladden, whose livelihood was earned in the emporium of Messrs.\ Mergin and Chater, that is to say in their establishment. Mr.\ Sladden had the reputation of being the silliest young man in Business; a touch of romance⁠—a mere suggestion of it⁠—would send his eyes gazing away as though the walls of the emporium were of gossamer and London itself a myth, instead of attending to customers. @@ -56,4 +56,4 @@ In August the evenings began to grow shorter: this was the very remark that the One morning late in August, just before he went to Business, Mr.\ Sladden saw a company of pikemen running down the cobbled road towards the gateway of the medieval city⁠—Golden Dragon City he used to call it alone in his own mind, but he never spoke of it to anyone. The next thing that he noticed was that the archers were handling round bundles of arrows in addition to the quivers which they wore. Heads were thrust out of windows more than usual, a woman ran out and called some children indoors, a knight rode down the street, and then more pikemen appeared along the walls, and all the jackdaws were in the air. In the street no troubadour sang. Mr.\ Sladden took one look along the towers to see that the flags were flying, and all the golden dragons were streaming in the wind. Then he had to go to Business. He took a bus back that evening and ran upstairs. Nothing seemed to be happening in Golden Dragon City except a crowd in the cobbled street that led down to the gateway; the archers seemed to be reclining as usual lazily in their towers, and then a white flag went down with all its golden dragons; he did not see at first that all the archers were dead. The crowd was pouring towards him, towards the precipitous wall from which he looked; men with a white flag covered with golden dragons were moving backwards slowly, men with another flag were pressing them, a flag on which there was one huge red bear. Another banner went down upon a tower. Then he saw it all: the golden dragons were being beaten⁠—his little golden dragons. The men of the bear were coming under the window; what ever he threw from that height would fall with terrific force: fire-irons, coal, his clock, whatever he had⁠—he would fight for his little golden dragons yet. A flame broke out from one of the towers and licked the feet of a reclining archer; he did not stir. And now the alien standard was out of sight directly underneath. Mr.\ Sladden broke the panes of the wonderful window and wrenched away with a poker the lead that held them. Just as the glass broke he saw a banner covered with golden dragons fluttering still, and then as he drew back to hurl the poker there came to him the scent of mysterious spices, and there was nothing there, not even the daylight, for behind the fragments of the wonderful window was nothing but that small cupboard in which he kept his tea-things. And though Mr.\ Sladden is older now and knows more of the world, and even has a Business of his own, he has never been able to buy such another window, and has not ever since, either from books or men, heard any rumour at all of Golden Dragon City. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file + diff --git a/content/chapter2.tex b/content/chapter2.tex index 4a17149..0b80cc1 100644 --- a/content/chapter2.tex +++ b/content/chapter2.tex @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{Thangobrind the Jeweller} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{W}\kern-2pt\textsc{hen Thangobrind} the jeweller heard the ominous cough, he turned at once upon that narrow way. A thief was he, of very high repute, being patronized by the lofty and elect, for he stole nothing smaller than the Moomoo’s egg, and in all his life stole only four kinds of stone⁠—the ruby, the diamond, the emerald, and the sapphire; and, as jewellers go, his honesty was great. Now there was a Merchant Prince who had come to Thangobrind and had offered his daughter’s soul for the diamond that is larger than the human head and was to be found on the lap of the spider-idol, Hlo-hlo, in his temple of Moung-ga-ling; for he had heard that Thangobrind was a thief to be trusted. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{W}\kern-0.01pt\textsc{hen Thangobrind} the jeweller heard the ominous cough, he turned at once upon that narrow way. A thief was he, of very high repute, being patronized by the lofty and elect, for he stole nothing smaller than the Moomoo’s egg, and in all his life stole only four kinds of stone⁠—the ruby, the diamond, the emerald, and the sapphire; and, as jewellers go, his honesty was great. Now there was a Merchant Prince who had come to Thangobrind and had offered his daughter’s soul for the diamond that is larger than the human head and was to be found on the lap of the spider-idol, Hlo-hlo, in his temple of Moung-ga-ling; for he had heard that Thangobrind was a thief to be trusted. Thangobrind oiled his body and slipped out of his shop, and went secretly through byways, and got as far as Snarp, before anybody knew that he was out on business again or missed his sword from its place under the counter. Thence he moved only by night, hiding by day and rubbing the edges of his sword, which he called Mouse because it was swift and nimble. The jeweller had subtle methods of travelling; nobody saw him cross the plains of Zid; nobody saw him come to Mursk or Tlun. O, but he loved shadows! Once the moon peeping out unexpectedly from a tempest had betrayed an ordinary jeweller; not so did it undo Thangobrind: the watchman only saw a crouching shape that snarled and laughed: “\kern1pt’Tis but a hyena,” they said. Once in the city of Ag one of the guardians seized him, but Thangobrind was oiled and slipped from his hand; you scarcely heard his bare feet patter away. He knew that the Merchant Prince awaited his return, his little eyes open all night and glittering with greed; he knew how his daughter lay chained up and screaming night and day. Ah, Thangobrind knew. And had he not been out on business he had almost allowed himself one or two little laughs. But business was business, and the diamond that he sought still lay on the lap of Hlo-hlo, where it had been for the last two million years since Hlo-hlo created the world and gave unto it all things except that precious stone called Dead Man’s Diamond. The jewel was often stolen, but it had a knack of coming back again to the lap of Hlo-hlo. Thangobrind knew this, but he was no common jeweller and hoped to outwit Hlo-hlo, perceiving not the trend of ambition and lust and that they are vanity. @@ -24,4 +24,4 @@ The city of Moung went towering by behind him, balcony above balcony, eclipsing The cough was too full of meaning to be disregarded. Thangobrind turned round and saw at once what he feared. The spider-idol had not stayed at home. The jeweller put his diamond gently upon the ground and drew his sword called Mouse. And then began that famous fight upon the narrow way in which the grim old woman whose house was Night seemed to take so little interest. To the spider-idol you saw at once it was all a horrible joke. To the jeweller it was grim earnest. He fought and panted and was pushed back slowly along the narrow way, but he wounded Hlo-hlo all the while with terrible long gashes all over his deep, soft body till Mouse was slimy with blood. But at last the persistent laughter of Hlo-hlo was too much for the jeweller’s nerves, and, once more wounding his demoniac foe, he sank aghast and exhausted by the door of the house called Night at the feet of the grim old woman, who having uttered once that ominous cough interfered no further with the course of events. And there carried Thangobrind the jeweller away those whose duty it was, to the house where the two men hang, and taking down from his hook the left-hand one of the two, they put that venturous jeweller in his place; so that there fell on him the doom that he feared, as all men know though it is so long since, and there abated somewhat the ire of the envious gods. And the only daughter of the Merchant Prince felt so little gratitude for this great deliverance that she took to respectability of a militant kind, and became aggressively dull, and called her home the English Riviera, and had platitudes worked in worsted upon her tea-cosy, and in the end never died, but passed away at her residence. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file + diff --git a/content/chapter3.tex b/content/chapter3.tex index 7d7c401..85d54a0 100644 --- a/content/chapter3.tex +++ b/content/chapter3.tex @@ -5,9 +5,11 @@ \ChapterTitle{THREE} \vspace{2\nbs} \ChapterSubtitle{The House of the Sphinx} +%\vspace{.5\nbs} +%\ChapterSubtitle{Thangobrind the Jeweller} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{W}\kern-2pt\textsc{hen I came} to the House of the Sphinx it was already dark. They made me eagerly welcome. And I, in spite of the deed, was glad of any shelter from that ominous wood. I saw at once that there had been a deed, although a cloak did all that a cloak may do to conceal it. The mere uneasiness of the welcome made me suspect that cloak. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{W}\kern-1pt\textsc{hen I came to} the House of the Sphinx it was already dark. They made me eagerly welcome. And I, in spite of the deed, was glad of any shelter from that ominous wood. I saw at once that there had been a deed, although a cloak did all that a cloak may do to conceal it. The mere uneasiness of the welcome made me suspect that cloak. The Sphinx was moody and silent. I had not come to pry into the secrets of Eternity nor to investigate the Sphinx's private life, and so had little to say and few questions to ask; but to whatever I did say she remained morosely indifferent. It was clear that either she suspected me of being in search of the secrets of one of her gods, or of being boldly inquisitive about her traffic with Time, or else she was darkly absorbed with brooding upon the deed. @@ -27,5 +29,4 @@ Then a few things screamed far off, then a little nearer, and something was comi But by mouldering rungs of ladders as old as Man, by slippery edges of the dreaded abyss, with an ominous dizziness about my heart and a feeling of horror in the soles of my feet, I clambered from tower to tower till I found the door that I sought; and it opened on to one of the upper branches of a huge and sombre pine, down which I climbed on to the floor of the forest. And I was glad to be back again in the forest from which I had fled. -And the Sphinx in her menaced house—I know not how she fared—whether she gazes for ever, disconsolate, at the deed, remembering only in her smitten mind, at which the little boys now leer, that she once knew well those things at which Man stands aghast; or whether in the end she crept away, and clambering horribly from abyss to abyss, came at last to higher things, and is wise and eternal still. For who knows of madness whether it is divine or whether it be of the pit? -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +And the Sphinx in her menaced house—I know not how she fared—whether she gazes for ever, disconsolate, at the deed, remembering only in her smitten mind, at which the little boys now leer, that she once knew well those things at which Man stands aghast; or whether in the end she crept away, and clambering horribly from abyss to abyss, came at last to higher things, and is wise and eternal still. For who knows of madness whether it is divine or whether it be of the pit? \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter4.tex b/content/chapter4.tex index ce8682a..a80812d 100644 --- a/content/chapter4.tex +++ b/content/chapter4.tex @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{of the Three Literary Men} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{W}\kern-2pt\textsc{hen the nomads} came to El Lola they had no more songs, and the question of stealing the golden box arose in all its magnitude. On the one hand, many had sought the golden box, the receptacle (as the Aethiopians know) of poems of fabulous value; and their doom is still the common talk of Arabia. On the other hand, it was lonely to sit around the camp-fire by night with no new songs. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{W}\kern-1pt\textsc{hen the nomads} came to El Lola they had no more songs, and the question of stealing the golden box arose in all its magnitude. On the one hand, many had sought the golden box, the receptacle (as the Aethiopians know) of poems of fabulous value; and their doom is still the common talk of Arabia. On the other hand, it was lonely to sit around the camp-fire by night with no new songs. It was the tribe of Heth that discussed these things one evening upon the plains below the peak of Mluna. Their native land was the track across the world of immemorial wanderers; and there was trouble among the elders of the nomads because there were no new songs; while, untouched by human trouble, untouched as yet by the night that was hiding the plains away, the peak of Mluna, calm in the after-glow, looked on the Dubious Land. And it was there on the plain upon the known side of Mluna, just as the evening star came mouse-like into view and the flames of the camp-fire lifted their lonely plumes uncheered by any song, that that rash scheme was hastily planned by the nomads which the world has named The Quest of the Golden Box.\looseness=-1 @@ -33,5 +33,4 @@ They came in silence to the foot of the stairs; and then it befell that as they For a moment it might have been an ordinary light, fatal as even that could very well be at such a moment as this; but when it began to follow them like an eye and to grow redder and redder as it watched them, then even optimism despaired. -And Sippy very unwisely attempted flight, and Slorg even as unwisely tried to hide; but Slith, knowing well why that light was lit in that secret upper chamber and who it was that lit it, leaped over the edge of the World and is falling from us still through the unreverberate blackness of the abyss. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +And Sippy very unwisely attempted flight, and Slorg even as unwisely tried to hide; but Slith, knowing well why that light was lit in that secret upper chamber and who it was that lit it, leaped over the edge of the World and is falling from us still through the unreverberate blackness of the abyss. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter5.tex b/content/chapter5.tex index acbb9e1..6b20755 100644 --- a/content/chapter5.tex +++ b/content/chapter5.tex @@ -17,5 +17,4 @@ Pombo the iconoclast immediately left his house, leaving his idols to be swept a It is a long journey from London to World’s End, and Pombo had no money left, yet within five weeks he was strolling along Last Street; but how he contrived to get there I will not say, for it was not entirely honest. And Pombo found the well at the end of the garden beyond the end house of Last Street, and many thoughts ran through his mind as he hung by his hands from the edge, but chiefest of all those thoughts was one that said the gods were laughing at him through the mouth of the arch-idolater, their prophet, and the thought beat in his head till it ached like his wrists⁠⁠… and then he found the step. -And Pombo walked downstairs. There, sure enough, was the gloaming in which the world spins, and stars shone far off in it faintly; there was nothing before him as he went downstairs but that strange blue waste of gloaming, with its multitudes of stars, and comets plunging through it on outward journeys and comets returning home. And then he saw the lights of the bridge to Nowhere, and all of a sudden he was in the glare of the shimmering parlour-window of Lonely House; and he heard voices there pronouncing words, and the voices were nowise human, and but for his bitter need he had screamed and fled. Halfway between the voices and Maharrion, whom he now saw standing out from the world, covered in rainbow halos, he perceived the weird grey beast that is neither cat nor bird. As Pombo hesitated, chilly with fear, he heard those voices grow louder in Lonely House, and at that he stealthily moved a few steps lower, and then rushed past the beast. The beast intently watched Maharrion hurling up bubbles that are every one a season of spring in unknown constellations, calling the swallows home to unimagined fields, watched him without even turning to look at Pombo, and saw him drop into the Linlunlarna, the river that rises at the edge of the World, the golden pollen that sweetens the tide of the river and is carried away from the World to be a joy to the Stars. And there before Pombo was the little disreputable god who cares nothing for etiquette and will answer prayers that are refused by all the respectable idols. And whether the view of him, at last, excited Pombo’s eagerness, or whether his need was greater than he could bear that it drove him so swiftly downstairs, or whether, as is most likely, he ran too fast past the beast, I do not know, and it does not matter to Pombo; but at any rate he could not stop, as he had designed, in attitude of prayer at the feet of Duth, but ran on past him down the narrowing steps, clutching at smooth, bare rocks till he fell from the World as, when our hearts miss a beat, we fall in dreams and wake up with a dreadful jolt; but there was no waking up for Pombo, who still fell on towards the incurious stars, and his fate is even one with the fate of Slith. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +And Pombo walked downstairs. There, sure enough, was the gloaming in which the world spins, and stars shone far off in it faintly; there was nothing before him as he went downstairs but that strange blue waste of gloaming, with its multitudes of stars, and comets plunging through it on outward journeys and comets returning home. And then he saw the lights of the bridge to Nowhere, and all of a sudden he was in the glare of the shimmering parlour-window of Lonely House; and he heard voices there pronouncing words, and the voices were nowise human, and but for his bitter need he had screamed and fled. Halfway between the voices and Maharrion, whom he now saw standing out from the world, covered in rainbow halos, he perceived the weird grey beast that is neither cat nor bird. As Pombo hesitated, chilly with fear, he heard those voices grow louder in Lonely House, and at that he stealthily moved a few steps lower, and then rushed past the beast. The beast intently watched Maharrion hurling up bubbles that are every one a season of spring in unknown constellations, calling the swallows home to unimagined fields, watched him without even turning to look at Pombo, and saw him drop into the Linlunlarna, the river that rises at the edge of the World, the golden pollen that sweetens the tide of the river and is carried away from the World to be a joy to the Stars. And there before Pombo was the little disreputable god who cares nothing for etiquette and will answer prayers that are refused by all the respectable idols. And whether the view of him, at last, excited Pombo’s eagerness, or whether his need was greater than he could bear that it drove him so swiftly downstairs, or whether, as is most likely, he ran too fast past the beast, I do not know, and it does not matter to Pombo; but at any rate he could not stop, as he had designed, in attitude of prayer at the feet of Duth, but ran on past him down the narrowing steps, clutching at smooth, bare rocks till he fell from the World as, when our hearts miss a beat, we fall in dreams and wake up with a dreadful jolt; but there was no waking up for Pombo, who still fell on towards the incurious stars, and his fate is even one with the fate of Slith. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter6.tex b/content/chapter6.tex index 4562525..ce56857 100644 --- a/content/chapter6.tex +++ b/content/chapter6.tex @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ %\ChapterSubtitle{of Pombo the Idolater} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-3pt\textsc{hings had grown} too hot for Shard, captain of pirates, on all the seas that he knew. The ports of Spain were closed to him; they knew him in San Domingo; men winked in Syracuse when he went by; the two Kings of the Sicilies never smiled within an hour of speaking of him; there were huge rewards for his head in every capital city, with pictures of it for identification⁠—\emph{and all the pictures were unflattering}. Therefore Captain Shard decided that the time had come to tell his men the secret. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-2pt\textsc{hings had grown} too hot for Shard, captain of pirates, on all the seas that he knew. The ports of Spain were closed to him; they knew him in San Domingo; men winked in Syracuse when he went by; the two Kings of the Sicilies never smiled within an hour of speaking of him; there were huge rewards for his head in every capital city, with pictures of it for identification⁠—\emph{and all the pictures were unflattering}. Therefore Captain Shard decided that the time had come to tell his men the secret. Riding off Teneriffe one night, he called them all together. He generously admitted that there were things in the past that might require explanation: the crowns that the Princes of Aragon had sent to their nephews the Kings of the two Americas had certainly never reached their Most Sacred Majesties. Where, men might ask, were the eyes of Captain Stobbud? Who had been burning towns on the Patagonian seaboard? Why should such a ship as theirs choose pearls for cargo? Why so much blood on the decks and so many guns? And where was the \emph{Nancy}, the \emph{Lark}, or the \emph{Margaret Belle}? Such questions as these, he urged, might be asked by the inquisitive, and if counsel for the defence should happen to be a fool, and unacquainted with the ways of the sea, they might become involved in troublesome legal formulae. And Bloody Bill, as they rudely called Mr.\ Gagg, a member of the crew, looked up at the sky, and said that it was a windy night and looked like hanging. And some of those present thoughtfully stroked their necks while Captain Shard unfolded to them his plan. He said the time was come to quit the \emph{Desperate Lark}, for she was too well known to the navies of four kingdoms, and a fifth was getting to know her, and others had suspicions. (More cutters than even Captain Shard suspected were already looking for her jolly black flag with its neat skull-and-crossbones in yellow.) There was a little archipelago that he knew of on the wrong side of the Sargasso Sea; there were about thirty islands there, bare, ordinary islands, but one of them floated. He had noticed it years ago, and had gone ashore and never told a soul, but had quietly anchored it with the anchor of his ship to the bottom of the sea, which just there was profoundly deep, and had made the thing the secret of his life, determining to marry and settle down there if it ever became impossible to earn his livelihood in the usual way at sea. When first he saw it, it was drifting slowly, with the wind in the tops of the trees; but if the cable had not rusted away, it should be still where he left it, and they would make a rudder and hollow out cabins below, and at night they would hoist sails to the trunks of the trees and sail wherever they liked. @@ -35,5 +35,4 @@ They mostly moved by night; sometimes they hovered off seacoast towns as of old, And no one is known to have found them out or to have annexed their island; but a rumour arose and passed from port to port and every place where sailors meet together, and even survives to this day, of a dangerous uncharted rock anywhere between Plymouth and the Horn, which would suddenly rise in the safest track of ships, and upon which vessels were supposed to have been wrecked, leaving, strangely enough, no evidence of their doom. There was a little speculation about it at first, till it was silenced by the chance remark of a man old with wandering: “It is one of the mysteries that haunt the sea.” -And almost Captain Shard and the Queen of the South lived happily ever after, though still at evening those on watch in the trees would see their captain sit with a puzzled air or hear him muttering now and again in a discontented way: “I wish I knew more about the ways of Queens.” -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +And almost Captain Shard and the Queen of the South lived happily ever after, though still at evening those on watch in the trees would see their captain sit with a puzzled air or hear him muttering now and again in a discontented way: “I wish I knew more about the ways of Queens.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter7.tex b/content/chapter7.tex index 7d928bc..5d447f1 100644 --- a/content/chapter7.tex +++ b/content/chapter7.tex @@ -17,7 +17,7 @@ \vspace{2\nbs} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{L}\kern1pt\textsc{ittle upon her} eighteenth birthday thought Miss Cubbidge, of Number 12A Prince of Wales’ Square, that before another year had gone its way she would lose the sight of that unshapely oblong that was so long her home. And, had you told her further that within that year all trace of that so-called square, and of the day when her father was elected by a thumping majority to share in the guidance of the destinies of the empire, should utterly fade from her memory, she would merely have said in that affected voice of hers, “Go to!” +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{L}\textsc{ittle upon her} eighteenth birthday thought Miss Cubbidge, of Number 12A Prince of Wales’ Square, that before another year had gone its way she would lose the sight of that unshapely oblong that was so long her home. And, had you told her further that within that year all trace of that so-called square, and of the day when her father was elected by a thumping majority to share in the guidance of the destinies of the empire, should utterly fade from her memory, she would merely have said in that affected voice of hers, “Go to!” There was nothing about it in the daily Press, the policy of her father’s party had no provision for it, there was no hint of it in conversation at evening parties to which Miss Cubbidge went: there was nothing to warn her at all that a loathsome dragon with golden scales that rattled as he went should have come up clean out of the prime of romance and gone by night (so far as we know) through Hammersmith, and come to Ardle Mansions, and then had turned to his left, which of course brought him to Miss Cubbidge’s father’s house. @@ -31,5 +31,4 @@ It was not by chains that the dragon kept her there, but by one of the spells of There he and his captive either defeated Time or never encountered him at all; while, in the world we know, raged Roncesvalles or battles yet to be⁠—I know not to what part of the shore of Romance he bore her. Perhaps she became one of those princesses of whom fable loves to tell, but let it suffice that there she lived by the sea: and kings ruled, and Demons ruled, and kings came again, and many cities returned to their native dust, and still she abided there, and still her marble palace passed not away nor the power that there was in the dragon’s spell. -And only once did there ever come to her a message from the world that of old she knew. It came in a pearly ship across the mystical sea; it was from an old schoolfriend that she had had in Putney, merely a note, no more, in a little, neat, round hand: it said, “It is not Proper for you to be there alone.” -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +And only once did there ever come to her a message from the world that of old she knew. It came in a pearly ship across the mystical sea; it was from an old schoolfriend that she had had in Putney, merely a note, no more, in a little, neat, round hand: it said, “It is not Proper for you to be there alone.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter8.tex b/content/chapter8.tex index d5c3db6..3160687 100644 --- a/content/chapter8.tex +++ b/content/chapter8.tex @@ -59,5 +59,4 @@ Sobs arose at his song, sighs came back along echoes: seneschals, soldiers, sobb All round the Queen of the Woods was a storm of sobbing and sorrow. -But no, she would not weep. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +But no, she would not weep. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/chapter9.tex b/content/chapter9.tex index 2cfc6c8..710e568 100644 --- a/content/chapter9.tex +++ b/content/chapter9.tex @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ %\ChapterSubtitle{Queen’s Tears} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-3pt\textsc{he Gibbelins eat,} as is well known, nothing less good than man. Their evil tower is joined to Terra Cognita, to the lands we know, by a bridge. Their hoard is beyond reason; avarice has no use for it; they have a separate cellar for emeralds and a separate cellar for sapphires; they have filled a hole with gold and dig it up when they need it. And the only use that is known for their ridiculous wealth is to attract to their larder a continual supply of food. In times of famine they have even been known to scatter rubies abroad, a little trail of them to some city of Man, and sure enough their larders would soon be full again. +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{T}\kern-2pt\textsc{he Gibbelins eat,} as is well known, nothing less good than man. Their evil tower is joined to Terra Cognita, to the lands we know, by a bridge. Their hoard is beyond reason; avarice has no use for it; they have a separate cellar for emeralds and a separate cellar for sapphires; they have filled a hole with gold and dig it up when they need it. And the only use that is known for their ridiculous wealth is to attract to their larder a continual supply of food. In times of famine they have even been known to scatter rubies abroad, a little trail of them to some city of Man, and sure enough their larders would soon be full again. Their tower stands on the other side of that river known to Homer⁠—\emph{ὁ ῥόος ἀχεανοίο}, as he called it—which surrounds the world. And where the river is narrow and fordable the tower was built by the Gibbelins’ gluttonous sires, for they liked to see burglars rowing easily to their steps. Some nourishment that common soil has not the huge trees drained there with their colossal roots from both banks of the river. @@ -45,5 +45,4 @@ When they heard that he had rejected the advice of those that gave it, some said And on the day that I tell of he galloped away from his home scattering largesse of gold, as I have said, and passed through many kingdoms, the dragon snapping at maidens as he went, but being unable to eat them because of the bit in his mouth, and earning no gentler reward than a spurthrust where he was softest. And so they came to the swart arboreal precipice of the unpassable forest. The dragon rose at it with a rattle of wings. Many a farmer near the edge of the world saw him up there where yet the twilight lingered, a faint, black, wavering line; and mistaking him for a row of geese going inland from the ocean, went into their houses cheerily rubbing their hands and saying that winter was coming, and that we should soon have snow. Soon even there the twilight faded away, and when they descended at the edge of the world it was night and the moon was shining. Ocean, the ancient river, narrow and shallow there, flowed by and made no murmur. Whether the Gibbelins banqueted or whether they watched by the door, they also made no murmur. And Alderic dismounted and took his armour off, and saying one prayer to his lady, swam with his pickaxe. He did not part from his sword, for fear that he meet with a Gibbelin. Landed the other side, he began to work at once, and all went well with him. Nothing put out its head from any window, and all were lighted so that nothing within could see him in the dark. The blows of his pickaxe were dulled in the deep walls. All night he worked, no sound came to molest him, and at dawn the last rock swerved and tumbled inwards, and the river poured in after. Then Alderic took a stone, and went to the bottom step, and hurled the stone at the door; he heard the echoes roll into the tower, then he ran back and dived through the hole in the wall.\looseness=-1 -He was in the emerald-cellar. There was no light in the lofty vault above him, but, diving through twenty feet of water, he felt the floor all rough with emeralds, and open coffers full of them. By a faint ray of the moon he saw that the water was green with them, and, easily filling a satchel, he rose again to the surface; and there were the Gibbelins waist-deep in the water, with torches in their hands! And, without saying a word, or even smiling, they neatly hanged him on the outer wall⁠—and the tale is one of those that have not a happy ending.\looseness=-1 -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +He was in the emerald-cellar. There was no light in the lofty vault above him, but, diving through twenty feet of water, he felt the floor all rough with emeralds, and open coffers full of them. By a faint ray of the moon he saw that the water was green with them, and, easily filling a satchel, he rose again to the surface; and there were the Gibbelins waist-deep in the water, with torches in their hands! And, without saying a word, or even smiling, they neatly hanged him on the outer wall⁠—and the tale is one of those that have not a happy ending.\looseness=-1 \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/colophon.tex b/content/colophon.tex index e586a40..c5cff3a 100644 --- a/content/colophon.tex +++ b/content/colophon.tex @@ -1,11 +1,11 @@ \thispagestyle{empty} \null\vfill \begin{adjustwidth}{3em}{3em} -This book was typeset using the \LaTeX{} document preparation system, which relies on Donald E.~Knuth’s \TeX{} typesetting engine. +This book was typeset using the \LaTeX{} document preparation system, which uses Donald E.~Knuth’s \TeX{} typesetting engine. \null -\noindent While care was taken to eliminate as many widowed or orphaned lines as possible, some may still appear on the pages, because no major editing was done to the original text. +\noindent Because no major editing was done to the text, some of the pages may contain widow/orphan lines. \end{adjustwidth} \vfill{} diff --git a/content/copyrightpage.tex b/content/copyrightpage.tex index f37c4c0..6135b27 100644 --- a/content/copyrightpage.tex +++ b/content/copyrightpage.tex @@ -17,7 +17,8 @@ This story is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents po \null -Typeset in Cochineal, a free and open-source typeface released under the SIL Open Font License. +Typeset in %12-point +Cochineal, a free and open-source typeface released under the SIL Open Font License. \end{center} \end{parascale} \end{legalese} diff --git a/content/epilogue.tex b/content/epilogue.tex index 28f14f5..b20994f 100644 --- a/content/epilogue.tex +++ b/content/epilogue.tex @@ -7,5 +7,4 @@ \ChapterSubtitle{Epilogue} \end{ChapterStart} -\noindent\charscale[2.0]{H}\textsc{ere} the fourteenth Episode of the Book of Wonder endeth and here the relating of the Chronicles of Little Adventures at the Edge of the World. I take farewell of my readers. But it may be we shall even meet again, for it is still to be told how the gnomes robbed the fairies, and of the vengeance that the fairies took, and how even the gods themselves were troubled thereby in their sleep; and how the King of Ool insulted the troubadours, thinking himself safe among his scores of archers and hundreds of halberdiers, and how the troubadours stole to his towers by night, and under his battlements by the light of the moon made that king ridiculous forever in song. But for this I must first return to the Edge of the World. Behold, the caravans start. -\clearpage \ No newline at end of file +\noindent\charscale[2.0]{H}\textsc{ere} the fourteenth Episode of the Book of Wonder endeth and here the relating of the Chronicles of Little Adventures at the Edge of the World. I take farewell of my readers. But it may be we shall even meet again, for it is still to be told how the gnomes robbed the fairies, and of the vengeance that the fairies took, and how even the gods themselves were troubled thereby in their sleep; and how the King of Ool insulted the troubadours, thinking himself safe among his scores of archers and hundreds of halberdiers, and how the troubadours stole to his towers by night, and under his battlements by the light of the moon made that king ridiculous forever in song. But for this I must first return to the Edge of the World. Behold, the caravans start. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/fonts/EBGaramond12-Italic.otf b/content/fonts/EBGaramond12-Italic.otf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..81845af Binary files /dev/null and b/content/fonts/EBGaramond12-Italic.otf differ diff --git a/content/fonts/EBGaramond12-Regular.otf b/content/fonts/EBGaramond12-Regular.otf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f26875 Binary files /dev/null and b/content/fonts/EBGaramond12-Regular.otf differ diff --git a/content/fonts/EBGaramondSC12-Regular.otf b/content/fonts/EBGaramondSC12-Regular.otf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7912787 Binary files /dev/null and b/content/fonts/EBGaramondSC12-Regular.otf differ diff --git a/content/preamble.tex b/content/preamble.tex index ebd6c4c..5b6ca3e 100644 --- a/content/preamble.tex +++ b/content/preamble.tex @@ -7,6 +7,20 @@ \SetTrimSize{5.5in}{8.5in} \SetMargins{0.5in}{0.625in}{0.625in}{0.75in} %{top}{outer}{bottom}{inner} +%\SetParentFont[% +% Path=content/fonts/,% +% SmallCapsFeatures={Renderer=Basic},% +% Kerning=On,% +% Ligatures=TeX,% +% ItalicFont=EBGaramond12-Italic.otf,% +% SmallCapsFont=EBGaramondSC12-Regular.otf,% +%]{EBGaramond12-Regular.otf} + +%\SetParentFont[% +% SmallCapsFeatures={Renderer=Basic},% +% Kerning=On,Ligatures=TeX,% +%]{fbb}% a nice Bembo clone + \SetParentFont[% SmallCapsFeatures={Renderer=Basic},% Kerning=On,Ligatures=TeX,% @@ -20,10 +34,17 @@ ]{\parentfontname} \SetVersoHeadText{The Book of Wonder} +%\NewFontFace\fancydropcap{EB Garamond} +%\SetDropCapFont{\fancydropcap} + +%\microtypesetup{factor=2500} +%\microtypesetup{protrusion=false} % it looks odd with the Bembo font + \usepackage[english]{selnolig} \nolig{Th}{T|h} % the Th ligature is rather distracting -\input{content/ukhyph} +%\input{ushyphex} +\input{content/ushyphex} \SetChapterStartHeight{12} \SetChapterFont[%Letters=SmallCaps,Letters=UppercaseSmallCaps,LetterSpace=20, diff --git a/content/titlepage.tex b/content/titlepage.tex index 64877c2..f361c12 100644 --- a/content/titlepage.tex +++ b/content/titlepage.tex @@ -20,7 +20,7 @@ \vspace{7\nbs} \charscale[1.75]{\scshape\theAuthor} \vfill -% published independently in the Slovak Republic\par +published independently in the Slovak Republic\par \end{center} \clearpage diff --git a/content/tocpage.tex b/content/tocpage.tex index c296c3e..585fd3d 100644 --- a/content/tocpage.tex +++ b/content/tocpage.tex @@ -13,8 +13,8 @@ \tocitem[5]{Pombo the Idolater}{21} \tocitem[6]{The Loot of Bombasharna}{26} \tocitem[7]{Miss Cubbidge and the Dragon of Romance}{32} -\tocitem[8]{The Quest and the Queen’s Tears}{36} -\tocitem[9]{The Hoard of the Gibbelins}{43} +\tocitem[8]{The Quest and the Queen’s Tears}{37} +\tocitem[9]{The Hoard of the Gibbelins}{37} \tocitem[10]{How Nuth Would Have Practised His Art}{49} \vspace{-.1\nbs} \tocitem[~]{Upon the Gnoles}{} @@ -28,7 +28,7 @@ \tocitem[14]{The Wonderful Window}{73} \tocitem[~]{Epilogue}{80} \vspace{\nbs} -\tocitem{\textit{About the Author}}{81} +\tocitem{\textit{About the Author}}{82} \end{toc} \thispagestyle{empty} \clearpage diff --git a/content/typography.tex b/content/typography.tex index 3592af4..6016707 100644 --- a/content/typography.tex +++ b/content/typography.tex @@ -1,6 +1,5 @@ \midsloppy -\lefthyphenmin=2 -\righthyphenmin=3 +\lefthyphenmin=3 \frenchspacing \scrollmode \setlength\parindent{1em} diff --git a/content/ukhyph.tex b/content/ukhyph.tex index 2551f53..c4e33c3 100644 --- a/content/ukhyph.tex +++ b/content/ukhyph.tex @@ -1,62 +1,39 @@ -% title: Hyphenation patterns for British English -% copyright: Copyright (C) 1992, 1996, 2005, 2016 Dominik Wujastyk, Graham Toal -% notice: This file is part of the hyph-utf8 package. -% See http://www.hyphenation.org/tex for more information. -% language: -% name: English, British spelling -% tag: en-gb -% authors: -% - -% name: Dominik Wujastyk -% contact: wujastyk (at) gmail.com -% - -% name: Graham Toal -% licence: -% name: MIT -% url: https://opensource.org/licenses/MIT -% text: > -% Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person -% obtaining a copy of this software and associated documentation -% files (the “Software”), to deal in the Software without -% restriction, including without limitation the rights to use, -% copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or -% sell copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the -% Software is furnished to do so, subject to the following -% conditions: +% File: ukhyphen.tex +% TeX hyphenation patterns for UK English + +% Unlimited copying and redistribution of this file +% is permitted so long as the file is not modified +% in any way. % -% The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be -% included in all copies or substantial portions of the Software. +% Modifications may be made for private purposes (though +% this is discouraged, as it could result in documents +% hyphenating differently on different systems) but if +% such modifications are re-distributed, the modified +% file must not be capable of being confused with the +% original. In particular, this means % -% THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED “AS IS”, WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, -% EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES -% OF MERCHANTABILITY, FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND -% NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT -% HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER LIABILITY, -% WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING -% FROM, OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR -% OTHER DEALINGS IN THE SOFTWARE. -% hyphenmins: -% typesetting: -% left: 2 -% right: 3 -% changes: -% - Version 1.0 Released 17 April 1992. -% - Revision 2.0 1996/09/10 15:04:04 ucgadkw +%(a) the filename (the portion before the extension, if any) +% must not match any of : +% +% UKHYPH UK-HYPH +% UKHYPHEN UK-HYPHEN +% UKHYPHENS UK-HYPHENS +% UKHYPHENATION UK-HYPHENATION +% UKHYPHENISATION UK-HYPHENISATION +% UKHYPHENIZATION UK-HYPHENIZATION +% +% regardless of case, and +% +%(b) the file must contain conditions identical to these, +% except that the modifier/distributor may, if he or she +% wishes, augment the list of proscribed filenames. + +% $Log: ukhyph.tex $ +% Revision 2.0 1996/09/10 15:04:04 ucgadkw % o added list of hyphenation exceptions at the end of this file. -% - Version 1.0a. Released 18th October 2005/PT. -% texlive: -% synonyms: -% - british -% - UKenglish -% encoding: ascii -% babelname: ukenglish -% legacy_patterns: ukhyphen.tex -% message: Hyphenation patterns for British English -% package: english -% ========================================== -% This file has been renamed from ukhyphen.tex to hyph-en-gb.tex in June 2008 -% for consistency with other files with hyphenation patterns in hyph-utf8 package. -% No other changes made. See http://www.hyphenation.org/tex for more details. +% +% +% Version 1.0a. Released 18th October 2005/PT. % % Created by Dominik Wujastyk and Graham Toal using Frank Liang's PATGEN 1.0. % Like the US patterns, these UK patterns correctly hyphenate about 90% of