Wednesday, December 09, 2009
James Churchward, Tea Planter
1878 Ceylon Handbook and Directory.
As shown in these following extracts from the online addition, James Churchward was a Tea Planter in 1878 with two plantations, Hatherleigh & Okehampton. He owned (at least on paper), 925 acres and kept 380 acres under cultivation.
INDIAN JOE, A TALE OF THE THOUSAND ISLANDS
Readers should note that James' title is "C.E.", probably for Civil Engineer.
From "Recreation" Volume II Number 3 March 1895
By George O. Shields, American Canoe Association, League of American Sportsmen
INDIAN JOE, A TALE OF THE THOUSAND ISLANDS
J. Churchward, C. E.
During the summer of 1888 we spent three months fishing among the Thousand Islands. We were lucky beyond our greatest expectations. Nearly every day we were rewarded with fine catches of bass and pickerel, with an occasional muskalonge. The appearance of the latter always called forth warm and hearty congratulations, and well it might, for only the lucky and skillful disciples of Walton succeed in overcoming and safely landing these gamy monsters of the deep.
One fine November day, being within a few miles of the river, we determined to run up to Clayton and try one last conclusion with the finny tribe before the winter finally set in. On arriving at Clayton, I hunted up my old guide, Indian Joe. He is one of the toughest looking pieces of humanity I have ever seen; but his looks belie him. In truth, he is as gentle as a child; as brave as a lion; always trustworthy and obliging. His age is doubtful. He does not know it himself; and his nationality is more doubtful still. He has always been regarded as a half-breed by those who know him-as probably having a French father and an Indian mother- but this is conjecture. Joe says he does not recollect either parent.
One thing is certain: Joe knows the islands better than any other man living.
No other guide knows so well where to take his patrons for big fish and plenty of them. His boat, the "Queen of the Islands," is always neat and clean, while the oars and sail are daily recipients of his careful attention. One need only be with him once, in a good gale of wind, to feel ever after perfectly secure in his care, under any circumstances. The elements do not appear to affect Joe in the least, whether zephyr-like breezes or howling gales blow.
He has a faculty, when sailing his boat in a wind, of being able to get it on a big roller or white cap, and then running along it as if it were a cork. Many a time I have been with him when a huge wave would come along, black and threatening, ready to burst on us and swamp us; so dark, so threatening and so near; yet nothing serious ever happened. While I would be shuddering at the black wall of water bearing down on us, Joe would simply, at the right moment, draw in or let off his sail, move a foot or two one way or the other in the boat, and the next instant she would be on top of the breaker, shooting along at lightning speed, without taking sufficient water to dampen our shoes. At such moments Joe appears unconscious of what he is doing, or where he is going. Like clockwork the skiff, as the breaker passes away from underneath her, falls back into her course. She seems to be guided by the will of the man rather than by his hand.
On the occasion of which I am about to write, Joe had many excuses for not wanting to go fishing. It was too late in the season, he said. All the big fish had worked their way up to the lake by this time. The wind wasn't right; it came directly out of the nor'west, and there was no wind so bad as that for fishing. The general aspect of the weather didn't look right; it was going to be dirty and blow hard; and trolling under such circumstances was simply an impossibility.
At last, Joe, seeing that all his excuses were of no avail, and that I was determined to make a trial at least, remarked that if we went over among the Canadian islands we might possibly strike a Muskalonge working his way up stream. So at 10 A. M., after wasting three of the best hours of the day, Joe made up his mind to try it. It meant three dollars to him, and that could not be picked up every day at this time of the year.
A lunch basket was packed and we went to the boat-house. There lay the dear old "Queen of the Islands," just as I had left her a month ago, looking as clean and saucy as ever. She deserved her name; no boat could ever sail past her in a breeze, and no wave could ever tumble into her while Joe was in command.
Joe's actions were strange this morning. He carefully tried a new pair of oars three or four times before placing them in the boat, and examined and felt the leather bindings over and over again. The sail was minutely examined, every stitch and binding being looked to. Finally that was placed in the boat also. Noting all this extra precaution, I asked Joe what was the matter. He answered:
"The weather gets dirty this time of year, without much warning. A careful man always tries his friends before he trusts his life to them."
At eleven o'clock we started with a light nor'westerly breeze, passed between Governors and Emery's islands, and then through the Eagle's Wings, to the head of the Grindstone. Sailing along the Grindstone, passing Club and other islands, we reached Hickory Flat. Here I thought we should get a strike, but was wrong. Joe seemed to think we should not find what we wanted on the flats, but rather in or alongside the deep channels. At Cement Point, Joe loosened out his sheet and ran down to Seven Tree Island. Here we let out the lines and fished the ground thoroughly, but without a strike. Then along the head of Leek Island. On arriving at Juniper Island we ran down through the channel and lunched on the lower point. Joe is an excellent cook, but took twice as long as usual to-day in preparing the meal; yet I must acknowledge it was one of the best he ever presented to a hungry patron.
We made another start at three o'clock, taking first the channel between Juniper and the Northern shoal, and then the channel on the south side of Huckleberry. Here we struck a brace of good sized pickerel; but as Joe was after bigger game, we took the head of Kelaria. Passing completely around this island we worked back to the north side of Huckleberry and struck the Cow's Horn Reef, which lies alongside the main channel, passing completely around it without a strike. Joe said:
"That' strange. I saw an old soaker on top the water here yesterday. Try a different spoon. Put on nickel and brass instead silver and copper, and make 'em 8s instead of 9s; I guess the old fellow filled up yesterday. Only wants a small bit to-day."
The change of spoons was made, and back we went around the Horn again. Just as we were turning the point, on the channel side, the inside line straightened out a bit, but slackened again immediately. We turned, and going down Joe suggested that I reverse the spoons, putting the brass one inside and the nickel on the outside, for he guessed the old fellow had a taste for perch today. The second change was made, and on we went around once more. Just as we came to the point, Joe quickened his pace, and was in the act of turning when the inside line straightened. Down went the rod to the water's edge, and then a terrific shake of the rod, followed by a splash behind, like that of a rock falling into the water. The old fellow was hooked, and had just made his first break. After half an hour's tussle we succeeded in landing him - a beauty of 42 pounds.
It was now half-past four, and Joe looking up, said:
"We are close to Gananoque. My cousin is sick. I would like run in and see how he is."
So off we went. At half-past five he came back to the boat and reported his cousin better. One more start, and this for home. Already it was getting dark, and the moon being only half full, with a cloudy sky, there was not much promise of any light to pick our way through the islands.
To my astonishment Joe, instead of taking a direct course for home, started up river, keeping close to the mainland. I inquired where he was going. He said he intended to keep close to the mainland until he got to Howe Island, then up alongside that until he could see Clayton Lights to guide him home. To me this was strange, for many a time I had come through the Admiralty Group when the nights were as dark as Erebus. But then Joe is always strange, and to question him would only have been to make him tell more lies. If Joe does not think it convenient to tell the truth, the only thing to be done is to wait and watch and see what he does next.
At half-past six we got up to the lighthouse, off the foot of Howe Island. Joe here drew his boat ashore and proposed going up to a farm house, the lights of which could be seen on the water. The owner, Joe said, was another cousin. He observed it was about time for supper, any way, and we could not possibly get home for two or three hours.
On arriving at the farm we found the table laid, and from the odor a good supper was in process of cooking. I was surprised to see that the table was set for one only, and apparently from the setting, some visitor was expected. A clean white table cloth, in the middle of the week, is a thing one does not expect to find in an ordinary farm-house, unless on some extra occasion. Then everything else was in keeping. Every one was dressed in his or her best, evidently expecting some visitor beyond the ordinary. Joe explained that he had sent up from Gananoque to say we should have supper here.
From the time we arrived until we left the house, at nine o'clock, Joe had so much to say to his cousin that I scarcely saw anything of him. On asking him where he had been, he said his cousin had been anxious to show him two new calves and a litter of pigs, and he had been down to the barn to see them.
Just before we started, being left alone again, I went to the front door to look out and see what the night was like. The clouds were heavy and flying fast. The rain was pattering against the windows, while the swaying and moaning of the trees showed we were in for a bad night. In the face of this, Joe proposed crossing the river in its widest and most exposed part, instead of going through the islands where we could at least have shelter, part of the way, from the raging storm.
While standing at the door looking at the racing clouds I overheard the following conversation: "Is he safe? Can you trust him?" Joe answered: "Sure; I've rowed him seven years. Him true gentleman I'd lay down my life on it. He never would do poor guide bad turn. He's safe. No, Bob, I feel safer with him than alone. But Lord it's a rough passage we'll have. How the wind does howl!"
There was something mysterious about this. I felt uneasy; calling Joe, I retired to the dining room. Joe soon appeared looking the picture of innocence and unconsciousness. I repeated the conversation I had heard, and demanded from him an explanation. He hesitated, looked around the room, up to the ceiling, and then to the floor. At last, in a sheepish way, he explained that he was taking back two bottles of Scotch whiskey to some friends in Clayton; as it was a dutiable article, if he got caught it might give him some trouble. He didn't suppose I'd give him away, and that was what he was telling his cousin. I thought it but a small matter, and concluded to make no objection.
We covered ourselves with our oilskins and sou'westers. Thus clothed we were fairly protected against the sleet and rain. About half-past nine we took the water. As the boat settled I noticed that her natural buoyancy was materially reduced and she sat deep in the water. I asked Joe if she hadn't a lot of water in her. He said:
"No, guess it's the pig over here. She's a beauty weighs 300 pounds."
He took to his oars and worked up in the lea alongside Howe Island, until we struck Chockrow flats. From here we could occasionally see the flicker of one of Clayton's electric lights. Joe looked carefully over his boat, shifted the pig back a little, hoisted his sail, and made straight for Hickory Island. As we left the land and began to catch the full force of the wind, the boat began to pitch and labor heavily. In less than ten minutes we were in a veritable boiling cauldron. The river was a continuous line of white caps. As soon as a wave broke the wind caught the foam, lifting it and carrying it along until it looked like a snow-storm. It froze and cut our faces and hands like needles. Water struck the side of the boat and came over. She was too heavy to rise quickly enough to prevent it. This kept me constantly bailing. Before we had gone a mile through this, I would have risked my eternal salvation to be back on terra firma once more. After three quarters of an hour's battling we reached the end of Hickory Island and ran under its lea, not a moment too soon, for with all my bailing we had fully six inches of water in the boat. Another quarter of an hour and we should have been swamped, in spite of me. We drew the boat up on the beach and let the water out; then I lit a cigar and rested for a time.
The rain began to let up and the wind moderated. Before starting again, Joe took out a Winchester rifle from a tarpaulin, loaded it and laid it down alongside his seat. Then he advised me to see that my own gun was handy, in working order and ready for use at a moment's notice. I was told to use it, too, if necessary. I thought this precaution simply absurd for a couple of bottles of whiskey, and a dressed pig. I told Joe that rather than fire a shot, I would pay the duty, if we were overhauled Then Joe said:
"This here pig happens to be 400 pounds of opium. If the officers catch us with that in the boat there's seven years for us, sure. I heard at Clayton, before we left, that detectives are on the job. Be careful as soon as we pass this island.
Here was I in a nice fix. In case of capture there was nothing to exonerate me. Seven years languishing in a prison was not pleasant to look forward to. Under the circumstances it took but a few moments to make up my mind. Rather than live in disgrace and confinement, guilty or not guilty, I would make a fight and sell my life, if necessary, rather than be captured.
At the American end of Hickory Island we stopped, took down the sail and rowed across to the first American rock, which Joe proposed to climb and survey ahead. We pulled in alongside of it and Joe was about to climb to the top when we heard voices from the other side:
"Can you see anything coming, Jack?"
"Not now, a few minutes ago I thought I saw a sail creeping along the lea side of Hickory, but the clouds closed over the moon before I could make out for certain. Well, I don't think it can be Joe, for bold as he is, he would not dare cross the channel in such a howling storm as we have been getting. I rather think he will run down to Hay Island, then along the foot of the Grindstone, and up by Robbins'. He would get shelter most of the way then. No boat with a load in her could have crossed the main channel in such a blow."
"Well, then, if he goes that way, Zip's cutter will get him off Frink's Bay, and if he should try to sneak down the mainland Sam's cutter will get him at Bartlett Point. If that black muzzled cuss can run through the lot of us tonight he's a smarter man than I ever took him to be. Who'd ever have thought that Mr. A. was mixed up in this job? That explains how the boys get rid of the stuff down in New York without leaving any traces. No one would ever have suspected him, and if he had not come up to attend to running off this cargo, he never would have been found out. This will be a fine haul tonight, boys, for we not only get the small fry, but the principal, too. What's that you say, Mike? Afraid of Mr. A?" Mike answered.
"Yes; I don't want him to draw a bead on me. He's a dead shot. I once saw him win a wager, up at Boxton Harbor, by cutting the string that held an apple, at 500 feet, with a Winchester. There isn't much fun facing a shot like that. You can take my tip; every time he pulls a trigger one of us will go to fill the bottom of the cutter. We are all six of us dead men before we get within a hundred feet of them, if he begins shooting. I wish I was out of this and back by my fireside, in Clayton."
"You're showing the white feather, Mike."
"No, t'isn't that; but when I think of Liz and the little ones, I don't feel at all anxious to get too near to Joe's Skiff. You all know me. I never shirked duty nor danger when 'twas honest. Didn't I go out on the broken ice to save old Tom, when none of you dared? No, I don't like this job. If I get knocked out who's to look after Liz and my babies and give them food and fire during the cold winter months? Boys, it's not worth it, all for the sake of a few dollars in or out of the country's pocket. Would the government take care of my little ones, if I go down tonight? I guess not. They would have to depend on charity and there's not much in that to keep them warm and hearty."
From the authoritative tone it was evidently the captain of the cutter who now spoke.
"We must put Mr. A. out of the way of doing us harm. When we run across them, we'll demand surrender. If they don't stop at once, give Mr. A a volley.
"Don't show the white feather, but when the time comes, shoot to kill."
This was interesting for me, to say the least of it. Here was I, absolutely innocent; yet being put down as the principal in a smuggling scheme. If caught, nothing could save me. I instinctively took my revolver and felt the trigger. At that moment I caught Joe's face which had a dark sinister smile on it. He shook his head and put his finger to his mouth as a warning; then noiselessly picked up his Winchester, and handed it back to me.
The clouds now thickened and it became inky dark. Joe noiselessly pushed off from the rock, took his oars and cautiously made for the Grindstone. Now for the first time I understood his care about the leather bindings in the morning. The leather being new, soft and spongy, perfectly muffled all sounds. We had just reached the side of the first little island, about 1,500 yards away, when the clouds cleared, the moon shone out, and we were discovered. The officers were at once under weigh and after us. Just as we reached the farther end of the island they gave us a volley. No harm was done; only one shot struck, taking a little chip out of the end of the blade of one of the oars. A moment later, we were round the point and out of sight. The clouds now came over the moon again and darkness favored us. Joe said:
"In three minutes we be safe!"
How, I could not see, but my faith in Joe was implicit and I felt at least a certain amount of security. Just ahead of us lay a group of little islands. Passing the first of these rocks Joe drew in behind it. The cutter had not yet appeared around the first island we passed. Then we made straight for another with a dwarf pine at its head. Passing around it, on the farther side, Joe ran into some rushes. He jumped out and told me to do the same; he then took hold of the bow of the boat and pulled it in through the rushes. On the inside was an archway in the rocks, just wide enough to let a skiff through and high enough for a man to pass under by stooping; but so low, in fact, that the tops of the rushes grazed he roof of the archway. This tunnel was not perfectly straight, but curved just enough to prevent any one seeing through it from either side. Our united efforts soon got the boat through, there being water enough to float her as soon as we got out. On the inside there was a basin or pocket of water about two feet deep and some fifty feet square. On the left side was a little sandy beach and a cave running back about 30 feet. This contained three or four logs, evidently put there to run a boat in on. At the end of the cave there was a crevice or crack in the rock, about four or five inches wide, which opened so that one could see everything in the direction of Hickory. As soon as we were thus housed, Joe went out and straightened up the rushes which had been bent down by our passage through them. Then he came back and took a peep through the rift.
"Here they come," he said. "I'll go up to the look-out."
I followed him. On the top there was an indentation so that one could lie there without being seen from the outside. We watched the cutter pass around and through the group, in every direction, examining closely every possible place where a boat might be hugging the rocks to avoid being seen. At last she came to our island, which, by the way, was one of the smallest of the group, rowed around it, then carefully looked into the rushes through which we had passed, but failed to discover the archway. Here the men rested.
"Well, boys," said the captain. "That cuss must have doubled around Coral Island and then back to Hickory, which is Canadian, and where we daren't follow. As we came down on one side he must have gone up on the other. As we showed out at the head he must have turned the foot; then getting the island between us and him he had a clear run to Hickory. We'll signal Sam, at Bartlett Point, that we've sighted our game; he will then be on a smart look out. Then we'll go back to our old hiding place and wait for him once more."
Two minutes later a rocket flew heavenward and passed within a few feet of us. It was answered by another from off Bartlett Point. Joe whispered:
"That's good. Now I know where the Bartlett Point cutter is."
Our friends now left us. I went down to the cavern and smoked a cigar. No one knows the full value of a puff of the fragrant weed who has not been in such a position as this. Joe remained on the lookout until he saw the cutter double round Coral Island.
A quarter of an hour afterward we hauled out our boat and set sail for the American mainland. The clouds were more broken. Joe said we must get a hustle on before it entirely cleared, or get caught by the Bartlett Point boat. With a fair wind, in 20 minutes, we struck the American mainland at the upper end of Colan's Flats. The moon had now sunk so low that by hugging the shore the high land prevented the moon's rays from striking on our sail and betraying us. Being out of the wind, the water was calm, so we ran down within 50 feet of the land. When within a quarter of a mile of the Point we saw a rocket go up from the Bartlett Point boat. Joe gave a start and held his breath. Could it be possible that we were again discovered? No; a few seconds later a second rocket went up. This, Joe said, was their signal that they were going farther up river, probably to lie under the Blankets to cut us off from crossing to the mainland from the south side of Hickory. They set sail and with the first opening of the clouds we saw their boat moving toward the Blankets. We were now getting close to the Point and out from the kindly shelter of the land, so Joe took down his sail and rowed. If the moon would only keep behind the clouds for five minutes we should be safe, but fate decreed otherwise. Just as our boat was off the Point, in the most exposed position, the clouds broke and the moon shone full on us. A shout from the cutter told us we were seen.
Joe laid to his oars. Down went their sail and after us they came with two pair of oars. Joe rowed in close to shore under the shelter of the trees. The cutter followed down as far as the Point, where we saw them stop. Joe did the same. Then they came along close to shore. Joe pulled his boat in underneath the branches of an overhanging tree which completely hid us. Just as they got directly off us, about 100 yards out, we heard one of them say:
"We're all wrong, boys, to hug the shore like this. He dodged in here, ran down a little and then straight out into the centre of the bay. While we are hunting for him in the dark, here, he will land his cargo safe at Buck Burns, and when we catch him the stuff will be gone."
The cutter then moved out and took the centre of the bay. We proceeded down cautiously close to shore. Every now and then they would stop to listen. Joe would do the same. We had a great advantage over them, because we could place them all the time by the sound of their oars in the rowlocks, while ours were muffled. We had got nearly down to the bridge when the moon once more betrayed us. The cutter was probably 1,500 yards to our left. A second later and they gave us another volley. We were not touched although we heard two balls strike the water ahead of us. Then there was a race for the bridge. Just as we came to the archway they stopped and fired again. One ball struck our mast as it protruded over the bow of the boat.
As soon as we shot the bridge, we turned clear around to the left, into some bulrushes, close to the piles, where it was utter darkness. Here we found another boat, with Joe's brother Bill and another man in it. Joe called out:
"Pull up creek, Bill, for life. They are close after me."
Bill was ready and waiting for this ruse. They started off, and just as Bill got to the first bend, the cutter came through the bridge. Bill shouted at the top of his voice:
"Pull, for heaven's sake, here they come," and then turned the rush point.
The cutter gave Bill, or the rushes, it's hard to say which, a volley, and rowed like mad after him. As soon as the cutter passed around the point, Joe pulled his boat back through the bridge and rowed toward Clayton until he came to a cottage with two lights in a window. Then he lit a lamp, swung it twice, when one of the lights went out. This was a signal to land, as everything was ready. We ran the boat up on the beach. A buggy with a pair of fast horses came out. In another minute that buggy was spinning away at the rate of 15 miles an hour, with those fatal packages that had been my terror for the last three hours. As soon as the buggy was out of sight, Joe pushed off his boat again. What a difference in her! She now rose like a cork to every movement of the water. The load was out of her and off my heart.
Joe hoisted a white flag, denoting that he had a muskalonge on board. His Winchester and cartridges must have accompanied the cases in the buggy, as they were not to be seen in the boat now. Rowing leisurely around to his boat-house, he proceeded to dock the "Queen," when two officers stepped out from the shadows and arrested us for smuggling. Joe simply laughed, saying:
"I guess you're away off."
Having got rid of this precious burden, I felt a little bolder and asked what they meant-what joke was it they were putting up on us; I was well known and had been fishing; my fish lay there in the boat. They wanted to know how it was that I had been out till 3 A. M. I answered by questioning whether they thought any one with common sense would have faced such a storm in a skiff. My duties called me back to New York in the morning, and I had to get across some time during the night, to catch the morning train.
After examining our boat in the most scrutinizing manner, one of the officers said:
"How in the name of Satan you fellows ever got through the cutters without capture beats me. They have been after you all night. Our information, from our detectives oh the other side, distinctly states that Indian Joe and a gentleman, unknown, took the cargo. You are free now, as we have nothing to hold you by, but we'll get you yet."
We housed the boat, took our fish and made for the hotel, which we found filled. The excitement of chasing a smuggler was too much for the inhabitants of this sleepy little village. Our muskalonge was weighed, labelled and laid out on a table in the office, while the kindly host dispensed hot toddy to the thirsty crowd. An hour later Bill came home in charge of the cutter. He had given them a great race, playing hide and seek among the channels and rush beds of the creek. To hold him the officers found was absurd, as he had been working at the Rock House up to nine o'clock, and was seen again about midnight going in the direction of his home; besides, there was nothing in his boat when captured to hold him on. A short time after the Hickory cutter's crew came in, having been attracted by the firing, off Bartlett Point and the bridge.
I took Mike over to the bar and gave him a toddy and something for his Christmas dinner, and then said to him:
"I don't want Mr. A. to draw a bead on me, he's a dead shot. I once saw him win a-"
Mike's hand was shaking like a leaf. He gulped down his toddy and made a rush for the door. Joe remained a while, but finally shook my hand and left, saying:
"Pretty stormy coming home, but that's what we expect this time year."
When at the door he turned and inquired whether I would like to go out in the morning and catch the mate of the spotted fellow that lay there on the table. I answered:
"I think not, Joe, it's too rough work fishing this time of year."
As an added bonus, that edition also had a picture drawn by James.
His signature/initials is/are different, as shown by the following comparison:
Signature from 1927
"Books of the Golden Age"
Is Sun a Cool Body?
Is Sun a Cool Body?
Seattle Scientist Advances Theory Conflicting With Old Beliefs
Maintaining that the earth is not a hot body gradually cooling off, but a cool one, Dr. G. L. Tanzer, Seattle scientist is arousing much interest by his theory of "Cosmic reciprocity." That other scientists share his view is indicated in a recent article by Dr. Robert Andrew Milliken, one of the world's leading scientists in a national magazine in which he said:
"We firmly believed for many years that the sun was merely a white-hot body gradually cooling off. Now we know that if were merely that it would have cooled off long ago, and we are searching for the source of its continuous supply of heat and are inclined to the belief that it is due to some form of sub-atomic change.
Dr. Tanzer was recently honored by the dedication to him of a book, "The Lost Continent of Mu," by Col. James Churchward, well-known writer. In explaining his beliefs in a recent address before the Women's Progressive Thought Club of Seattle, Dr. Tanzer said in part:
By Dr. G. L. Tanzer
It is impossible to give a comprehensive idea of cosmic manifestations in a small booklet like "Cosmic Reciprocity" or in a short lecture. It would require many volumes to do justice to the subject and furnish sufficient evidence to satisfy progressive scientists that many theories accepted centuries ago and which are still upheld by present day science, do not conform with facts.
A few experiments conclusively prove that our heat does not come from the sun but is an earthly energy in reciprocal interchange with that of the sun. It is impossible that temperature can be measured with an optical pyrometer (termed a bolometer) which is a form of spectroscope, both being based on the prism, and used by scientists for measuring the heat of heavenly bodies, for the reason that the prism, or spectrum, does not record heat carrying rays. It either repels or is neutral to them. The prism or spectrum records light rays only which do not carry heat.
Col. James Churchward, widely known for his great research work, who is full accord with the assertions made in "Cosmic Reciprocity," gives the following proofs: First we took a cell filled with alum water, which allowed transmission to the LIGHT rays, and repelled the dark rays. After passing through the filter we focused the light rays on a thermometer – the temperature did not rise a degree. The optical pyrometer registered a temperature of 2,500 to 2,600 degrees Fahrenheit at the focus point. We then changed the cell, using one filled with an iodine solution, which allowed the DARK rays to pass through and repelled the light rays. The light at the focus point immediately disappeared. The optical pyrometer registered nothing, but the thermometer soon burst. Substances such as paper started burning at once at the focus point.
The forgoing experiments conclusively prove that the means which have been used to measure the temperatures of sidereal bodies are incapable of measuring temperatures.
The halo of clouds which surround the sun are said to contain elements with which we are acquainted, but with us they are in solid condition. This phenomenon appears to be another reason for believing the sun to be a super-heated body. This is no criterion whatever. Many of our solid elements can be converted into gaseous clouds with the aid of other elements, and, after the change from a solid to a gas has been made, the gases can be kept as gases without involving high temperatures. Many examples will be found in books on chemistry. While the spectroscope is supposed to show us some of the elements, it is not claimed by anyone that it discloses all; therefore it is not only possible but probable that there are elements in the sun's clouds about which we know nothing, and that it is these unknown elements which keep all gases composing the sun's clouds cool without solidifying. Is it not also possible that the gaseous elements supposed to be in the sun's atmosphere are actually present in that of our earth?
The Sun's Rays
We read in many scientific works that the sun is constantly sending forth flames hundreds of thousands of miles long. The sun's so-called flames are rays – rays without heat because they are light rays and cold, as experiments have proved. An earthly example of the sun's flashing is to be seen in the Aurora Borealis, also in an ordinary search light, neither of which carry heat rays. Combustion is unnecessary to produce visible rays, for visible rays emanate from radio actives such as radium, uranium, and thorium. Cold rays emanate from the glow worm, fire fly and many fishes.
Rays leave the sun's body in the form of dark-ultra-invisible-parent rays which are the carriers of the sun's forces. On passing through the sun's atmosphere these parent rays divided- filtered out, the weaker light divisions become visible to the human eye. Beyond the sun's atmosphere they cannot be seen because it is necessary for the rays to pass through elements to be seen. As soon as the sun's rays with their forces arrive at the earth's atmosphere, those carrying forces affinitive to earthly forces commence their work thus; the forces in the sun's light rays set in motion the earth's affinitive light forces and the phenomenon daylight, or sunlight, is the result.
Flames of the magnitude of the flashings of the sun's light rays, would have consumed the sun millions of years ago. Flames are super-heated elementary gases coming from a combustion. Combustion is a thermal-analysis of a substance whereby a solid is transferred or transformed into gases. Therefore if scientists are right, the sun has deliberately committing suicide by burning herself up for millions of years. Such a contention cannot be maintained for a moment on any scientific or reasonable basis.
I firmly uphold my assertion that the sun is not a flaming mass, but a cool body like our earth, and I stand ready to meet any scientist who disagrees with me on a platform for a public discussion.
Some very interesting questions could be put to those who may accept the invitation, for instance:
1 – Why should elementary heat from an alleged flaming sun travel 186,000 miles per second – thousands of times faster than lightning?
2 – Why, according to the U.S. weather bureau, was a temperature of plus 25 degrees centigrade at sea level, where the vapor pressure was ascertained to be 16.5mm, reduced to 19.5 degrees below zero centigrade at 7,000 meters where vapor pressure was found to be but 0.5 mm., and why did the temperatures between 13,000 and 20,000 meters altitude show a fixed degree of 55 degrees below zero centigrade where vapor pressure had reached its zero point?
Who Lived in America 50,000 Years Ago?
By Col. James Churchward
Sculptured Tablets Recently Discovered in Mexico Present Startling Evidence of Prehistoric Civilization on the American Continent, Founded by Colonizers From the Lost Motherland of Mu, in the Pacific Ocean
(This article is not presented authoritatively but rather for its original theories as to the origin of the human race - theories which Col. Churchward has long maintained to interested audiences)
A long-forgotten language, giving the history of a hitherto unknown race, has been unearthed in Mexico. Slabs of stone and carved monuments give us at last the history of mankind on the American continent, so long hidden. These recently discovered tablets have resisted the deciphering efforts of the world's most famous archaeologists. Through studies of that now sunken continent, the Land of Mu, the Motherland of Man, I have found the key and am able to tell in rough outline the story of a prehistoric race whose possible existence has been so long denied.
Fifty thousand years ago, or more, before the early cave dwellers of Spain had inscribed their records in cavern paintings, and of course long before the first rudiments of civilization appeared in Egypt, a small craft sailed forth from the continent that then existed in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It sailed into the rising sun, manned by a crew of blond sailors whose mil-white skin and blue eyes marked them as natives of the Land of Mu, the birthplace of mankind. After sailing for "a moon's journey" (twenty-eight days) they sighted land - land which we now know as North America, but nameless then with no trace of human beings.
The little crew found a safe landing at the mouth of one of the rivers that flow from the present Mexico territory into the Pacific Ocean. They explored the land, found it fertile, then returned to the Continent of Mu. They sailed eastward again, this time accompanied by a large band of fellow colonizers. From this beginning grew a great nation that flourished until overtaken by the catastrophe I shall describe.
How do we know these things?
Through the splendid archaeological work or William Niven, in Mexico City, over two thousand lava tablets have been found, embedded in pits and quarries near Mexico City. Great astonishment was expressed by world-famous archaeologists when they were confronted with these pieces of stone on which there were inscribed characters to them absolutely indecipherable. They surmised that here was some portentous message which might reveal the story of primitive ancient man in America. But it was still a mystery because they did not have the key.
Fortunately I saw as I looked at these tablets that the secret was not to be kept from us after all. In the seventies of the nineteenth century I had spent laborious years deciphering strange scrolls found in India, scrolls that told of the Motherland of Man, Mu, that continent which was swallowed up by the waves of the Pacific. The characters on the Mexican tablets were the same as those I had seen in India!
A little study convinced me that the men who had engraved the tablets were in close connection with Mu.
Unfortunately one of the most important symbols - the eyes- cannot be deciphered in the companion tablet to the one here reproduced, as the carving is badly mutilated. If we could be sure they were closed eyes, we would know they symbolize the ancients' "sleep" - in other words, death. But there are plenty of other symbols hidden in this elaborate carving. The rectangular mouth is the hieratical (sacred) letter "M" of the motherland, Mu. The chin is shaped like a square "U," and from the top of the "U" branches extend out, ending in suns, one on each side. This lets us know that the story the serpent is trying to tell is concerned directly with earth, not the mysteries of heaven.
Now notice in the illustration that the whole chin seems to be resting on top of an urn, or jar. This urn symbolizes the body of the earth, and the U-shaped top (in which the chin of the serpent rests) signifies an abyss or bottomless gulf. The decorations on the urn (one on each side, and near its bottom), are glyphs that read "Returned to the bosom of his forefathers in the region of darkness."
Of course this does not demonstrate at length how I found the details of the story which I stated at the beginning of this article - that is too long a deciphering process to explain here. But it gives an idea of the type of symbol which I had to deal with and find the key to unlock. There are many more tablets which I have not yet deciphered, but enough is now known to piece out the heroic story of pre-historic man on our continent, the colonizers and daring sailors from the Land of Mu.
It appears that the colonizers found all conditions favorable for them - at first. The population grew rapidly, great stone structures were erected in what we now call the Valley of Mexico, and a flourishing civilization was one its way, when, without warning, a tremendous cataclysmic wave washed in from the ocean and then swept out to see again, leaving behind it a chaos of boulders, gravel and sand, under which men, cattle and buildings were buried forever.
Undaunted by this blow from nature, the Motherland sent out more of her sons to recolonize the land. Incredible as it may seem, the same drama was enacted three times more, and after each wave of destruction there came a fresh expedition of colonizers.
Meanwhile events were shaping themselves underneath the continent in a way that was to put an end to this game of destruction and reconstruction. A great gas chamber, hundreds of miles long, was being tapped under the valley - a gas chamber of the same kind that proved the final undoing of the Motherland itself. It was tapped by passages leading from active volcanic centres still lower down.
We do not know the exact process, but we can be sure that the valley crust at last split in several places, broken by the enormous pressure of the gases beneath and the fighting civilization found itself confronted, not with a tidal wave of water but with waves of molten lava which scorched the countryside. Then the valley floor, weakened throughout, collapsed altogether, and prehistoric man of America disappeared into a bottomless gulf of flame. The few survivors, from whom we get the fragmentary records of the volcanic stone tablets, were doubtless unable to rebuild a civilization on what was left of their land. Meanwhile the Motherland too sank from sight beneath the ocean, and the story drew to its close.
It is not to be wondered at, then, that orthodox scientific doctrine has held that America was never the scene of very early human activity. Nature had closed the book of records with a seal of steam and fire, and it is only now that we have permitted to reopen it.
Too much credit cannot be given to Niven for his painstaking, often discouraging work in excavating around obscure little Mexican villages and farms. Without this essential discovery, mankind might have gone on indefinitely believing that America was discovered only at a comparatively late period in our geological history.
Will we find this far-off civilization possessed may characteristics of our own? Will we find that its people were so cultured, so advanced in intelligence that they may take their place beside us to-day and not be regarded as savages? Did they master secrets of nature, tens of thousands of years ago, that were lost in the cataclysm, never to be rediscovered?
We know that the land whence they originally came, Mu, reached a high level of achievement before its work was blotted out in its collapse into a gas chamber. Answers to these questions await a further analysis of the Mexican lava tablets. It seems to me not impossible that when the record is finally told, at least some of the answers will be in the affirmative.
The World Magazine
March 4, 1928
Synopsis of the Earliest History of Central America and Yucatan
Editor Argus: - We constantly see a great deal written about the ruins of Yucatan and Central America. These writings appear to be exclusively guess work. Herewith is a short synopsis of the history of Yucatan, based on Maya writings, Maya inscriptions, Hindu records, Egyptian records, and Greek writings, and geological phenomena.
Synopsis of the Earliest History of Central America and Yucatan
According to traditions, the first people who inhabited Central America and Mexico were a white race.
Their last king was named Quetzal, sometimes he was called Quetzalcoatl, also Cucumatz.
How long this white race had been in America up to the time of Zuetxal (Quetzal ? ) has not been revealed. The end of this white race was; They were conquered by a people of darker skins called Maya who took and settled on the land. The Mayas were composed of several distinct tribes among them being various tribes of Mongols and Semitics.
When conquered, King Quetzal refused to surrender to become a slave to the conquerors, saying, "he would die in captivity." So he, with a remnant of his white people took their ships and sailed to a far off land beyond the setting sun, i.e. , to the east of America. Quetzal and his people arrived safely at that far off land where they settled and became great again.
The people of this Quetzal settlement were the forefathers of the white races of Europe, except the Latin races, the Greeks, the Semitics and the Egyptians.
All these came to Europe later in the history of man's colonization of the earth.
The American Mayas, the conquerors of Quetzal and the white race, were composed of Mongols and Semitics but dominated as a whole by another white race of a more swarthy complexion than the original white race. According to written history, they called the conquered lands Mayasc, from which the name Mexico of today came. Mayasc was the original name of Mexico, but Mayasc included Central America as well.
According to Maya and Hindoo records the Maya dominated this land for 18,000 years, during which time there were eleven separate dynasties of emperors or kings. The last dynasty was called the Cau dynasty and the preceeding one the PPeu Dynasty.
Each king or emperor assumed the title "son of the sun" to show that he came from the royal family of the earth's first empire, "The Empire of the Sun." The title "son of the sun" was the patent showing his royal descent.
During the time of the Mayas, the great structures, whose ruins we now find in Central America, Yucatan and Mexico, were erected. There were no distinctive people called Toltecs. Toltec means builder, therefore the Mayas were the Toltecs because they were the builders. The last dynasty was called the Cau dynasty. Cau was the family name of the royal family and Cau means serpent. When the Cau family became the royal family and its head the emperor, he adopted as his emblem, the great symbolical feathered serpent of creation. In these ancient days it was usual to carve in various places and to adorn all temples, palaces and the various governmental buildings with the symbol of the reigning family, - thus all such buildings having the feathered serpent carved upon them, show that they were either built by or during the reign of the Cau emperors. Maya history tells us most of the structures of Clucheu (Chichen ?) Itza, Uxmal and other cities in Yucatan were re-built by the last king Cau and for this reason we find the bulk of the ancient buildings in Yucatan adorned with carvings of the feathered serpent. Maya history does not supply us with the reason that these cities were built, but Egyptian temple histories do. They had been shaken down into ruins by earthquakes.
Some few structures still remain that were built during the PPeu Dynasty. These are known by the carvings of elephants' heads on them. The elephant was the royal symbol of the PPeus. The last reigning monarch of the Cau dynasty was Queen Moo, who died 16,000 years ago on her return from a visit to the new Maya colony on the banks of the Nile Delta, at Sais.
Civil wars and internal strife sapped the vitals of the Mayax empire, so that surrounding peoples found them an easy prey, and thus virtually ended the old Mayax empire; it became split up into small kingdoms.
During the Maya ascendancy in America they pushed colonies eastward first to Atlantis then to southern Europe, Northern Africa and Asia Minor.
The Latin races, the Greeks, the Semitic races and the Egyptians are all descended from this migration.
From the end of the Cau dynasty down to the invasion by the Spaniards under Cortez, but little is known of what took place in Central America and Yucatan. Wars and invasions were constant. History records one prominent invasion by a people who came from the south, called Nahuates. Whether they were Mongol or not, we cannot say, but they were, without doubt a very highly enlightened people as they understood the origin and workings of the great forces far better than scientists of today. The date of this invasion is wrapped in mystery, Somewhere between 14,000 BC and 2,000 BC, a great cataclyom (cataclysm ?) swept over the whole land, wiping out all life and destroying the edifices. We get this from the Egyptian temple history. So that, today, there is not a single one of the ancient Mayas in existence in Central America and Yucatan. When the country became habitable again, races from surrounding lands drifted in and repopulated the land. Then our next bit of history is where the blood-thirsty Aztecs from the north swept down over the land, putting the men to the sword and taking the women into slavery. The Aztecs introduced the human sacrifice; before the time of the Aztecs offerings consisted of fruits and flowers, which was laid on an altar having the taw "T" associated with it. The taw is the symbol for resurrection and a picture of the constellation of the southern cross. When the southern cross appears over Central America and Yucatan, it brings the rain. Seeds spring forth from the ground, trees yield flowers and fruit, and al nature is again resurrected and brought into life. After reading the Egyptian tale of the Yucatan cataclyom (cataclysm ?). We asked some geologists who were going to Yucatan to examine the ground around some of the ruins and see if anything showing geologically of the flood. We got back the information from them that not only are the marks of a flood found around the Yucatan structures, but appears also around the Central American structures and monoliths, in very distinctive form.
We think we have perfect records of Central America and Mexico having been peopled by a very highly enlightened and cultured people, more than 35,000 years ago, and we have incontrovertible records and proof that the first people in Europe and Asia Minor came from America.
The Sun is Not a Superheated Body, He Declares
Editor Argus: The orthodox theory about the sun is an exceedingly hot superheated body of over 15,000 degrees F or C, I do not remember which. That she is sending forth flames of an immense length which shoot through the sun's atmosphere at about 400,000 miles per second; or about twice the velocity of light. That the sun's heat warms all of the solar system, in other words our heat comes from the sun.
The sun is not a superheated body; it is a cool body but highly magnetic.
Our heat is an earthly force contained in the body of the earth and in the atmosphere.
A natural law is: the nearer we get to a source of heat so we find the temperature rising: but: the nearer we get to the sun so we find the temperature falls - the reverse to natural laws: therefore the sun is not the source of our heat, but, it comes from the earth.
The sun revolves on her axis and her poles oscillate, movements similar to those of the earth: therefore, the sun is governed by a superior sun. To be governed by a superior sun, our sun must be generating magnetic forces affinitive to the forces of the superior sun. To generate magnetic forces it is absolutely essential that that she have an outside hard crust: to be had (hard?) it must be cold, otherwise it would turn into gases; gases cannot generate magnetic forces. To control her movements; namely, revolving on her axis and oscillating her poles our sun must have a storehouse for her forces. Solid cold elements are the storehouses of forces: thus again it is shown that the sun's crust like that of the earth is solid and cold.
The temperatures assigned to the sun would turn her into a mass of gases in a few days.
The sun's so-called flames travel at 400,000 miles per second – where does resistance of the sun's atmosphere come in here?
Flames of the magnitude of the so-called sun's flames would have consumed her millions upon millions of years ago, and we should not be able today to worry about the eclipse.
The sun does not emit flames. What we see are light rays passing through the sun's highly specialized atmosphere after having been divided and filtered out from the parent rays; on passing through the double layer of specialized clouds which envelop her body. What are known as heat rays cannot be seen nor are they recorded on the prism.
The shape of a ray is like a fine perfectly straight hair – the shape of a flame is wavy. Watch a searchlight throwing its rays into the sky, and watch the eclipse on Saturday. You will see no wavy line in the sun's corona.
As an aside, this scrapbook page also contains a note about a presentation on WNYC entitled, "Pigmy Hunting in Central America" by Colonel Churchward. The scale is the same on the headline above and the radio program announcement below:
The Glozel Discoveries
The initial discovery was in March 1924 by Emile and Claude Fradin on their farm in the hamlet of Glozel near Vichy, France. When the cow pulling the plow got it's foot stuck, Emile and Claude extracted the cow's leg which lead them to an underground chamber where they found some ceramic fragments and human bones.
A subsequent excavation in April of 1924 revealed tablets, idols, bone and flint tools and engraved stones. In September 1925, the amateur archaeologist Antonin Morlet published his findings as "Nouvelle Station Néolithique" and declared that the site was Neolithic (7000 BCE - 1800 BCE). Controversy soon followed when the 'powers that be' dismissed Morlet's findings. Subsequent excavations have produced further artifacts and controversy.
Dating the pottery using modern methods has indicated that the artifacts fall into three age-groups. The oldest is 300BCE to 300CE, the second grouping was the 13th century, and the last group was found to be recent (20th century).
The 100 or so tablets have yet to be deciphered, but different experts have seen similarities between the characters and Phoenician or Basque or Chaldean or...(the list goes on).
Now the similarities between the writing on the Glozel tablets and writing discovered in Okinawa at or near the Yonaguni 'monument' is where the Glozel tablets intersect with James Churchward's theories on a lost Pacific Ocean continent. Actually, the phrase they use is 'common cultural origin' because they link the characters found at Yonaguni with the Glozel Tablets, the Phoenicians and writings discovered near Tiahuanacu in South America.
Fortunately, James Churchward's thoughts about the Glozel Tablets are known. As shown in the following page excerpted from one of James' scrapbooks, he wrote the word "Fake" and initialed it. A note of significance is that this image features reproductions from Morlet's "Nouvelle Station Néolithique". Click for larger size.
Here is another of article from James' scrapbook from September 11, 1926 on the "Glozel Discoveries". Click for larger size.
This is not to say that the tablets were fake, only that James Churchward's opinion of them was that they were fakes.
Dramatic story of the Glozel Tablets Controversy
Have a great day,