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London – Chelsea and Manchester United go head to head this weekend in a match neither club dare lose as Manchester City entertain Arsenal eyeing a chance to stretch their lead at the top of the Premier League.
Pep Guardiola's unbeaten City are smashing records with impunity and are already five points clear of Jose Mourinho's United after nine wins in 10 games.
Elsewhere, Tottenham will look to build on their impressive 3-1 win against European champions Real Madrid in midweek and Liverpool will attempt to stay on the coattails of the Premier League pacesetters at West Ham.
Here are five things to look out for in the Premier League this weekend:
Can Chelsea rediscover their hunger?
Chelsea turned last season's Premier League race into a procession but it's been a different story this time around, with three defeats already — they only lost five matches in the whole of last season.
Manager Antonio Conte criticised his side after they crashed 3-0 in Rome this week, saying they "lacked everything", though they are still likely to qualify for the Champions League knockout stages.
Chelsea are already nine points behind leaders Manchester City and defeat against United at Stamford Bridge on Sunday would leave them with an impossible-looking task.
"We must find the hunger we showed all of last season, and sometimes this season," said Conte. "But this season has been up and down. We need to find consistency."
Will Mourinho attack Chelsea?
Manchester United boss Jose Mourinho was lambasted for his cautious tactics in a 0-0 bore draw at Anfield last month, with critics saying he had missed a trick by failing to test Liverpool's suspect defence.
Since then they have laboured to a couple of wins against Benfica in the Champions League and beaten Spurs 1-0 on home turf in the Premier League, as well as losing to Huddersfield.
Ex-Chelsea boss Mourinho, who held a finger to his lips and told the doubters to calm down after his side beat Spurs last weekend, is unlikely to be persuaded to depart from his pragmatic game plan against Chelsea even though Conte's men are coming into the match on the back of a poor defensive display against Roma.
How far can Aguero go?
Sergio Aguero, who this week became Manchester City's all-time record goalscorer with 178 strikes, would be the stand-out star at many Premier League clubs.
But it is a measure of the attacking riches at Guardiola's disposal that he has to share star billing with a host of other quicksilver forwards.
Aguero is some way down the goalscoring charts, at 12th on the Premier League list, well behind Alan Shearer at the top on 260 goals.
But it is his strike rate that catches the eye. The Argentine, who arrived at City from Atletico Madrid in 2011, averages 0.69 goals per match, well ahead of Shearer (0.59) and just ahead of Arsenal legend Thierry Henry (0.68).
"What he has achieved has made him a legend. He's gone down in history, so I would tell him to enjoy," said Guardiola, whose side face Arsenal at the Etihad on Sunday.
Can Everton stop the rot?
Managerless Everton, who host Watford at home on Sunday, are in freefall and must find a way to arrest their slide.
The Merseyside club, who boast a proud record of being ever-present in the English top-flight since 1954, find themselves in the relegation zone with only two Premier League wins.
Caretaker boss David Unsworth, in charge since Ronald Koeman was sacked, has pleaded for the new manager to be given time to turn things around.
"Whoever gets the honour of being Everton boss, including me, needs time with this set of players," he said.
Can Burnley gatecrash the party?
The Premier League has a familiar look after 10 matches with the "Big Six" in the top six spots. But lurking just outside that gilded group are Burnley, level with Liverpool on 16 points.
The club's away form has caught the eye, including an opening day victory against Chelsea and an impressive draw against Tottenham at Wembley.
Sean Dyche, who takes his team to Southampton on Saturday, is refusing to get carried away.
"We are earning respect, a side that feels like it can do what the Premier League needs, but there's still work to be done," he said. "It's not a sprint, it's a marathon. We've made a good start but there's a long race to go."


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John Frankenheimer, the director best known for the classic political thriller "The Manchurian Candidate" but who was equally successful in television's Golden Age and, more recently, making films for cable, died Saturday morning. He was 72.
He died at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles of complications from a stroke following recent spinal surgery, a publicist for HBO announced.
Frankenheimer was part of a group of filmmakers that included Franklin Schaffner, Sidney Lumet and George Roy Hill who started in live television and forged influential careers in film. By the time Frankenheimer was 30, he had received five Emmy nominations for live dramas.
He brought innovative camera work and a strong sense of moral justice to his early efforts on the big screen in films that included "The Young Savages," "The Birdman of Alcatraz," "All Fall Down," "The Manchurian Candidate," "Seven Days in May," "Seconds" and "The Train."

subset: commoncrawl


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"From this day forward, our thoughts and actions will be for each other… our plans mutual, our joys and sorrows shared… as we become one in Christ."
Weddings are such glorious, joyful events! It was truly a beautiful thing to witness this bride and groom recite their vows before their family, friends, and Heavenly Father - the union of two souls becoming one. What awesome design!
Our friends chose to partake in a foot-washing ceremony during their wedding service. Set to the backdrop of Steven Curtis Chapman's (tear-jerking!) song "I Will Be Here", first the groom knelt to symbolically wash the bride's feet, and then the bride did the same for her new husband. It was touching to see my friend with tears running down her cheeks as her groom knelt at her feet. They were truly tears of joy, for my friend realized the high significance of such an action.
You see, in washing each other's feet, this couple was showing their desire to serve the other person. In demonstrating this act of genuine, heartfelt love, this husband and wife were embodying the image of Jesus Christ.
Let's read John 13: 12-17. It's amazing!
12 When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, "Do you understand what I have done to you? 13 You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. 14 If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. 15 For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. 16 Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.
In Jesus' day, the feet were considered the dirtiest, foulest part of the body. Feet were exposed to whatever one came across – muddy or dusty roads, animal droppings, jagged rocks that would leave cuts - and the washing of the feet was considered to be a job only for gentile slaves upon arriving in someone's home.
Jesus' bold choice to wash the feet of his disciples was completely out-of-the-ordinary. Can you imagine this?! The King of Kings bows to wash the grime of the earth from your feet. And He insists.
The Crossway ESV Study Bible states the following:
"With his crucifixion imminent, Jesus washes his disciples' feet as a final proof of his love for them, setting an example of humility and servant-hood and signifying the washing away of sins through his death. In a striking demonstration of love for his enemies, Jesus washes all of his disciples' feet, including those of Judas."
Just as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, let us strive to wash the feet of others, as Jesus commanded, be it literally AND figuratively. Jesus' command is for us to forgive others as Jesus forgave us, and to serve one another, following Jesus' examples given to us in the Bible.
Husbands, seek to serve your wives, and wives, do the same for your husbands. Friends, seek to act humbly to your friends, and serve them in unexpected ways. Daughters, seek to serve your mothers, and sons, serve your elders. Though we may be far from the perfect example that Jesus was, let us remember what the King of Glory did for us – and may we do that for others.
Dear Jesus, You are the ultimate example of a humble servant. So often in our haughty, proud, sinful nature, we seek to be served instead of the very opposite. Help us to dwell on your goodness, and may we emulate you in the ways that we forgive and serve our neighbors, strangers, friends, and family members. We cannot thank you enough for your ultimate act of service to us – your unconditional love, shown through your death on the cross and resurrection three days later. We love you, Lord.
Have you ever been served in a way that completed humbled you?


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This blog post is co-written by Yngve Dahle and Mark Robinson.
One thing that above all else characterizes companies with a successful business model is that they are scalable; therefore we shall explain this concept in detail. "Vekstbedriften" (Dahle et. al. 2012) defines scalability1 as follows:
In an extremely scalable enterprise, each new unit of the product or service costs dramatically less to manufacture and market than the initially developed unit, while the sales price is generally maintained.
We have to say at this point that scalability is not a black-and-white concept. No enterprises will be 100% scalable or non-scalable. On the contrary the drivers for scalability influence the company to a greater or lesser degree. The sum of these influences will put the enterprise somewhere in between non-scalable and fully scalable.


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Creeping up on you.
Battle lines were drawn at the end of The Walking Dead's seventh season as Rick Grimes and his militia took the fight to Negan and The Saviors.
It was a fight many dark episodes in the making, but all-out war is coming, and in a show where your favourite character's head can be cracked open with a barbed wire-covered baseball bat at any moment, nobody knows who's going to make it through the next season alive, or what will be left of them.
Potential casualties aren't the only aspect of the zombie show that has fans speculating like crazy. There are so many lingering mysteries in this post-apocalyptic world: What was with that weird flash-forward in the trailer? Who will remain loyal to Rick? And how exactly will the show crossover with Fear the Walking Dead?
The answers to all of these questions are never straightforward and those who think they can turn to the comic books for hints and spoilers are sadly mistaken, since the series has deviated from the source material so much already.
There are bound to be a few twists in store when fire meets gasoline in season 8, and fans better have their sh***ing pants handy if any of these come to pass.
Quiz: How Well Do You REALLY Remember Buffy The Vampire Slayer?
10 Things Netflix's Ted Bundy Documentary Left Out
20 Netflix Original Series You Must Binge-Watch In 2019
Been prattling on about gaming, movies, TV, football and technology across the web for as long as I can remember. Find me on Twitter @MarkLangshaw


text:
Our Difference
Why Choose Us?
Our Commitment To
Our Commitment To
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Areas of Expertise
Industry Services
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Scott A. MeyerCity of Cape GirardeauI had extensive experience with this company as Facilities Director for Southeast Missouri State University during the construction of the River Campus project. They are professional, sensitive to their client, and excellent problem solvers in order to get the project completed on time and within budget.
James A. RustLa Croix United Methodist ChurchKiefner Brothers, Inc. built both the New Worship Center and The Reign Forest Children's Education Building for La Croix United Methodist Church in Cape Girardeau, MO. Both projects were performed under a cost-plus-not-to-exceed arrangement and Kiefner Brothers delivered both projects to us under budget and on schedule. I would personally recommend, without hesitation, using Kiefner Brothers, Inc. as the General Contractor on your upcoming expansions and improvements.
Brian PansingBates ArchitectsI have had the privilege of working in concert with Kiefner Brothers for the last 22 years in the professional relationship of Architect and Contractor/Construction Manager. I can say, without hesitation, that Kiefner Brothers offers and extremely high quality, hands on approach based upon experience, family tradition and a total commitment to their clients. I can recommend them for any project which warrants a resoundingly successful outcome.
Our Story
Kiefner Brothers, Inc. is a fourth generation family owned General Contractor located in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. For decades, Kiefner Brothers, Inc. has been building a reputation of quality, innovation and teamwork. Formed in the 1920s and incorporated in 1968, Kiefner Brothers provides unparalleled preconstruction and construction services across a wide range of building types.
Our Commitment to Excellence-
At Kiefner Brothers, Inc., we've taken great pride in the work that we have produced for generations. Whether it is a complex, medical facility, a design/build municipal building, a commercial building, addition or renovation, we always strive for quality workmanship and owner satisfaction that is equaled by few and surpassed by none. "Generations of Experience" truly make the difference when it comes to quality building.
Our Commitment to Integrity-
For generations, Kiefner Brothers, Inc. has been building a reputation as a fair and honest company. We are known as a company that treats its subcontractors with respect and financial fairness. We are a business that generously gives back to the community in which we serve. We have spent generations building this reputation and it will not be compromised.
Our Commitment to You-
Ultimately, you the owner have the final say in judging whether we are who we say we are. For nearly a century we have served our customers to the best of our ability and left them knowing we made their goals and concerns our goals and concerns. Your schedule, budget, and existing operation are taken seriously by Kiefner Brothers, Inc. For generations we have been committed and will continue to commit to delivering you our very best.


text:
Loot, Looter, Looted
Peter Howarth
- Letter to Patience by John Haynes
Seren, 79 pp, £7.99, April 2006, ISBN 1 85411 412 3
I first read Letter to Patience in a mud-walled bar a few hundred miles away from the mud-walled bar near Zaria, in northern Nigeria, where John Haynes's poem is set. It opens with an evocative drift through the peppery air of the evening marketplace, past the stalls selling stock cubes and mosquito coils, and the smells of fried yam and charcoal fires, towards the coloured lights of Patience's Parlour:
the drain wrinkly with rainbows, the car
sunk to its rusted wheel hubs in the dust,
door jamb, handbills for Double Crown and Star,
thin slits of light, reggae, voices, a gust
of laughter.
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Vol. 30 No. 1 · 3 January 2008 » Peter Howarth » Loot, Looter, Looted
pages 36-37 | 2183 words


text:
Sunday, March 31, 2013
over the weekend
7 comments:
- Laura said...
OH, you're really tempting me with this lemon cake, dear. Looks AMAZING!!!
We egg hunted and played outside in the gorgeous weather. It was a super weekend!
- April 1, 2013 at 8:22 AM
- Eleanor said...
Sounds like perfection to me!
We took the same exact picture of our dyed eggs in cartons too....funny!
have a great week!
- April 1, 2013 at 8:23 AM
- SKCranePhotography said...
Celebrated spring in a new way that I haven't before. The Festival of Colors in Spanish Fork. Celebrating the awakening of spring with brightly colored powders, music, and smiles.
- April 1, 2013 at 12:08 PM
- Senka I said...
We've recently launched the website RecipesUS.com. It's a search engine that aims to gather all the best recipes from US websites and blogs in one place. We've noticed that you have a lot of great looking recipes on your blog that we would love to feature on our site. To read more about how it all works and to sign up with your blog, please visit: http://recipesus.com or send us an email on firstname.lastname@example.com. We look forward to hearing from you!
Kind regards,
- April 2, 2013 at 6:26 AM
- ruzzel01 said...
Perfect Easter celebration!
house hunt pro
- April 2, 2013 at 8:35 AM
- kylie said...
what a beautiful spring day! that cake looks irresistable :)
- April 2, 2013 at 4:35 PM
What a lovely spring weekend. The sunshine + warm weather are making me giddy. With the snow melted, I've noticed so much trash scattered though! Maybe an idea for one-by-one?
Did you roast a whole chicken? I've been wanting to try but would love tips or a healthy recipe. Not sure why a whole bird seems intimidating. Trying to add a little bit of healthy meat back into our diets.
- April 3, 2013 at 4:11 PM


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Crest Mills is a division of Crest Brands Group. Our experience in the Home, Bath, Bedding and Pillows business dates back to 2002. Since that time we have developed a reputation for Quality Product, Best In Class Designs, On time Delivery and Superb Pricing.
Joey Levy
We strive to provide an excellent product at the highest level of quality.
We have an extensive sourcing, production, compliance QC team in the USA & Asia.
Based in our State-of the-Art NYC offices, We have a design team dedicated to ensuring we bring amazing product to the market. Constantly being innovative and fresh.
We focus on each brand and customer to fullest, giving each the attention they need so that we keep their identity and heritage unique.
Crest Brands Group, aka JBL Trading, LLC is the parent company, under which we have 4 unique divisions, as follows.
Crest Brands Group
- Crest Mills - Home Decor & Bedding
- HomeMaker - Kitchen Products
- Baby Lounge - Infant, Layette, Gifting, Apparel and Sets.
- Essie Legwear - Sock & Legwear
Each division is run by a separate manager, sharing the back end And sharing other synergies to maximize our potential.
Crest Mills Asia:
Our Asia office is staffed with a merchandising team, sourcing team and QC/Compliance team, lead by our long time management team. They offer us boots on the ground and their extensive knowledge in the Home Textile business has helped us grow.


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Our levy passed with 87.29% of the vote! Thank you!!!
On May 2nd, the library is putting a .75 mill renewal levy on the ballot. Since it's a renewal it does NOT account for any NEW taxes! The levy provides the library with $141,000 each year, and accounts for 14% of our budget. It will cost a $100,000 homeowner just $17.20 per year, and since this is a renewal it will NOT account for any new taxes. Passing of this levy will make sure that we are financially secure and that we can continue providing services, materials and resources to our community. You can sign up to have a levy yard sign placed in your yard by calling the library at 330-683-1065. If you have questions about levy you can also email us at email@example.com


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Maximine came with the uplifting news. "Do you know that Suze the Thai tried to stab her aesthetician…! Actually, she did more than trying, it seems. She's been arrested and all. Dick says he regrets but they won't be able to attend our silver anniversary party. Well, good-riddance…! She pretended to be extensively invited. She intended to bring her extended family in. Imagine. All those little monkey-like young people behaving like pigs, blundering their way away, pigging up the food — and destined to die so young…"
"But why…?" Asked Nina, very interested.
"Well, it seems the aesthetician found she was too slim…"
"Too slim!" Incredulous, Coralline.
"No, I mean, why are they doomed to die young, the youngsters in Dick's wife's family…? Is it a genetic bane…?" Nina, pounced, seemingly very worried now. "I so hate seeing young people die. Don't mind so much the old croaking, of course. Law of life, lay of the land. But I'm pretty young now myself… And… And all those poor young simians…? Soldiers sent to war… To fight the radioactivity, to shower the white phosphorous about… Like varmint-killing vaporizers, flitting the human flies…?" She encouraged.
Maximine had to think that one out. At length she answered: "Well, yeah, it seems that they are mighty jinxed, hexed; their mojo blet, bletted, unsound; grim grainy symptoms indeed, all of them wall-eyed. Suze the only fit to be seen of the lot. Barely. Very barely. A stick of a girl with limp tiny tits and a lip curled, such a nasty mien, with superfluous ears and engorged cheeks. And a perfume that lingers as lingers a lingering fart."
"Must be one of these Oriental shits with cinnamon and cardamom and mummified carrion… Like this soy bean sauce done with rotten fishes, you know?" Vindictive Coralline pointed out.
"A sister of her, I'm told, escaped with her life by a hair. They were visiting a military compound in Alabama, she wandered out into the secret territory, the keep-off, we-shoot-to-kill area, the broad barely capable to read — of course, wall-eyed and all, you tell me how — and the loudspeakers shouting her name, and saying: 'Fuck off, Lilygold (the hell if I know her real name), you are so fucking dead, Lilygold…!' She almost died of fright. And then came the dogs, and mauled her pretty much… Then a cousin of her, the daughter of her aunt, had a friend at her side at the theater that suddenly died, in the dark, in the middle of a movie… They had gone to watch a horror flick, both of them girls were around twelve or so, and from the upper rows a waiter gone mad threw down a caldron of boiling oil — are you being served…? — a fried friend for you…"
"Wow, how terrible. They are really doomed." Nina agreed.
"But wait," Maximine poured on, "when they were in Arizona, you know they toured the States before Suze meeting Dick, a party went to explore the virgin bush… They encountered an eerie scary shack — a depot of some sort — there in the middle of the brush… Two foolish boys, nephews of her, Suze, dared go inside. Those Thais are real idiots. What are you seeing…? — those left outside would ask, shouting. The two boys said: There is a rear or end wall that's all pockmarked with bullets — they shoot people in here, execution style — military, gangster, all the same — they line them up — they machinegun them by the twenties… And then they heard machinegun reports, the Thais outside… And the two boys were never seen again. Neither in the shack, when the coroners arrived and checked every inch of the terrain which they said had not been used since the military had secret prisoners there, nor outside, along the rough desert… Only cactuses, and vague skeletons and scorpions and rattlesnakes left… The two boys eaten who knows by what…"
"I'd worry if I were to marry into such a weird family…"
"You don't know the half of it, Coralline. They have in their garden an idol knoll — a monticule full of niches from whence the malignant idols, comfily ensconced therein, with their big paunches and gaping navels, leer and peer out from the shadows… Gloomy garden of disgraces and sorrowful mysteries…"
"Booo…hhh…" Nina's voice trembled, adding in jest some atmospheric creepiness.
"The family was outside, the occasion was the celebration of one of their barbarous holydays. Refreshments were being served. A guy was sketching, another photographing, some of the children were playing tiddledywinks at the foot of the baleful knoll… One of the boys, the littlest, the one who was keeping score, was aggressed by a bully, who accused him of cheating. The little accounting fellow complained: 'But it tallies…!,' and his head struck one of these lucky stones they put for luck as an offering at the foot of the knoll of the idols. He tallied the stone indeed, notched it deep, with four rents of red. He died on the spot. Everyone went livid — a trick they manage I don't know how, for the wogs are darkish indeed. The big kahuna among them, the head of the family went leisurely inside, solemnly donned daunting trimmings and trappings, came out looking like a tops samurai or an emperor of the wall-eyed East… He said, more or less, in their lingo: 'As I'm the guy that cuts the mustard in this bloody family, I say that the little boy wasn't pushed by any of us — and less of all by the oldest son of my oldest one, you bet — but that the boys were scarfing away there nutritious food and little Jimmy here choked on a bone or something — the case: that, trying to dislodge it, at length he went wacky, and amok, lost it, lost his foot too, and badadang! He banged his melon on the offered lucky stone. Split pomegranate indeed. End of story!' Everybody agreed, except that this night, once the cops and coroners were gone, all the family with terrible pangs in their stomachs… Ptomaine poisoning, it was. Thirty-two of them died. Only the bullies survived. Vigor counting for something, of course. And the grandmothers, too fed up with the cloying shit they serve each year during the festivities. And abstaining. They too made it."
"Good for the grannies… They've seen it all…"
"How must Dick be regretting that ill-advised marriage…!" Coralline interjected.
"I should think so…! With his last drop of leukemic blood… Poor guy, how he must yearn for his life with you…!" Maximine barefacedly lied.
"And, moreover, to add injury to the gobbledygook insult, now with Suze in prison…!" Stoked Nina.
"Well, she's liable to get out soon, alas. Just being arraigned for the trial… The beautician, it seems, not dead yet. She had a hairpin pushed into her left temple, her brain attained till about 'midships… Going crazier by the minute… Who knows if she'll be able to testify… And if she testifies, what drivel will she spout…"
"Balmy, is she…?"
"Both of them now, the devil Thai to this unnatural nature born, the beautician by the pin thus chilled, higgledy-piggledy distressed… '—Where the fuck am I? Who the dickens am I…?' Her head in a spin, roofs strolling overhead, weathercocks crowing at the wrong cues, plus hearing unsolvable oracles in her skull, and excruciatingly boring pundits underneath the wisps of her perm… They kill each other with such ease, don't they, those barbaric pagans of the devious East…? Always holding tight to the sanguinary tenets of their shibboleths, while the sparkling scaffoldings where they must hang shine enticingly before their insane eyes (that disappear with a smile, thence their terrifying eeriness.) Suze the ugliest of them all. Ugly duckling hanging by the neck until it snaps, and breaks as the blobs of a rosary recounting the steps down to hell…"
"Is she much contorted while in this awkward proceedings…?" Nina prodded.
"You bet," Maximine complied. "Her temper flaring, her taint turned a frightening cobalt, and the other day she blew her top, really, some churchman was extolling the pious and she trying to strangulate herself with her scarf, she fainted before dying, such a nuisance of a girl all told…"
"Whom are we talking, the hairdresser or the nasty new wife…" Coralline, somewhat lost.
"Why, both! She was also a Thai, a member of the family, the aesthetician, you know. They are so secretive and disgusting, and buddy-buddy, are they not…?"
"Christ, they fucking are!" Asserted Nina, most firmly.
"Avaricious, and stingy, and astringent."
"You've got them pat, Maximine, you do!" Nina's enthusiasm was catching. Coralline felt bloody better already.
"And she's such a cheap vamp, Suze, foolish overpainted monkey; shameless, showing her scrawny dinguses to the laborers even. Sometimes Dick has to beat the hell out of her. 'Will you behave…?' He says. And she nagging: 'My family will do you in, if only as far as you dare touch a hair of mine…!' Crazy bitch. I went visiting the other day. All these tales I know from his mouth. I said, 'Dick, what's with your knuckles, they are all smeared with raspberry jam.' He says, 'Phooey, must be blood from the bitch.' He had a glint in his eyes…"
"Is he going crazy too…?" Full of hope, Coralline asked.
"Like a loon. I said, 'With all your mazuma, richer than Montezuma, and now complicit to a band of lousy wogs who conk out easier than flies under flit…' He answered: 'No matter, for the breed like cockroaches… The more of them die off the more appear. And I so want a heir to my house!'"
Nina approved: "A wacky-wacky line of reasoning, indeed. The guy is going under alright. Like a sitting duck. And his head shot off."
"I told him, 'Take off your blinders. You are being played for a flaking decoy. She's not going to give you an heir. She's going to be the death of you, they'll shoot out of the water, they'll inherit the lot; the lot of them rich as Croesus, bringing America down. America doomed, by hoodooed association. Don't you see everyone belonging to this devil-sheltering clan gets burned a mark of desolation on the folds of his soul…? And your bastard going down too…, mark of the devil. Misshapen to begin with, the product of a sewer seep, of miscegenation with the beast, slurping liquefied rubber, not milk, flawed down to his magnetic core, yearning for hell, home.' And he said, 'Get thee to a loony bin yourself, Maxicrabby. Fuck yourself. Her tribe lifts the spirits — when the flock lifts up as a man of many capes, as a flying tree of many winged leaves, the elegance, the sweep, the swoop…' He's crazy indeed."
"But for her, it seems…" Dejected, Coralline.
Nina reproached Maximine with fiery eyes. Said: "But wait, Coralline. The story's not finished. First, Dick beats the bejeezuses out of her. Second, he agrees that he's dying of a sickness unto the soul. Third, he only said that last phrase in apparent praise of his torturers to show how far gone he is in his head… That's how I see it, Maximine…?"
"And indeed you see it in the most orthodox way, my pet. Yes, he is going pazzo, and she is a devilish brute, and everything is shits between them… I need a slug of something…"
Nina brought huge servings of cognac.
"He passed out after he'd faintly praised her. It was punishment from on high, or from his own conscience, enemy of himself. The thread between body and spirit blazing with the gleam of hell about to burst forth… What a distaste in my mouth only of being in his presence, and the fart perfume of the murderous bitch lingering in the background, I felt like vomiting, ruined house of rotten ghosts, I loathed the whole package, the while I had been there I had reneged on all my most precious values; what a terrible influence. I had to get out of there. The decaying house was haunted by the Thai bad luck. Nags appeared from behind every curtain. They all say: 'Bush!' to frighten me. I was wrangling with my own legs; abreast of me, they wanted to flee the farther, the sooner, the faster, the straighter the better. All that toil and zeal from all this awful women, her aunts, her mothers, her cousins, her ancestors, and the pestiferous boys, and wrongly attired old men, their trousers upside down, so witchy and stupid are they, I couldn't get the hell faster enough out of that house of doom…"
The rant went on for an hour. With a smile, Coralline had fallen asleep on the couch.
Nina accompanied Maximine outside. Thanked her heartily. Their friend was so near collapse. Earlier that day, Nina had phoned Maximine. "Coralline is approaching a break down, she's cracking up… We've got to do something to fetch her up to level sanity…"
It had all been an act of vast charity, all this wild slandering of Suze and hers… Now Maximine, all warm inside, was saying good-bye from the window of her beautiful new Lamborghini. She was feeling most surely blessed. Such a nice woman as herself, and deservedly, you bet.
For Every Tib and Tom Cat
16th chapter...
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- ► de desembre (1)
- ► de setembre (1)
- ► de desembre (2)
- ► de novembre (1)
- ► de setembre (15)
- ► de desembre (2)
- ► de novembre (10)
- ► de desembre (4)
de novembre
- Done.
- Done.
- 20th... Faltering, steam wanting, my... legs...
- 20th... Faltering, steam wanting, my... legs...
- 19th... Ough.
- 19th... Ough.
- 18th... Soon there...
- 18th... Soon there...
- Seventeenth...
- Seventeenth...
- 16th chapter...
- 16th chapter...
- 14th and 15th chapters
- 14th and 15th chapters
- The 12th and 13th chapters
- The 12th and 13th chapters
- Eleventh...
- Eleventh...
- Adding the tenth.
- Adding the tenth.
- The Whole Shebang for now. Have no time to be pick...
- The Whole Shebang for now. Have no time to be pick...
- Chemistry... 1st, and 2nd and 3rd and 4rth
- Chemistry... 1st, and 2nd and 3rd and 4rth
- Chemistry of Offensive Breath 5th, 6th, 7th...
- Chemistry of Offensive Breath 5th, 6th, 7th...
- I'll draw the picture later
- I'll draw the picture later
- The Future Looks Chinese
- ► de setembre (1)
who the 'ell?
- Carl Sredge
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NPB: PL Game Summaries for May 17th, 2009
by Gen on May.17, 2009 @ 11:22 am, under Game Summaries, NPB
My sister and my nephew are in town for the next few weeks and Mike has graciously volunteered some of his time to help me cover 3 games out of the daily NPB schedule. For the next three days, Mike will be covering the CL games while I cover the PL games (after that, we'll be putting together a rotating schedule since inter-league play will begin). You will be able to read his coverage of the CL games at SimCentral's Baseball News and More section.
Softbank Hawks - Rakuten Eagles
Rained out
Kleenex Stadium
Lotte Marines 8 - Seibu Lions 5
Both teams banged out 10 hits a piece, but the Marines managed to score 3 more runs than the Lions, thanks largely in part to a 3-run first that got it's start when Masamitsu Hirano loaded the bases with 2 walks and an HBP, then surrendered a single to Tadahito Iguchi (1-for-4, BB, R, RBI) before recording the first two outs of the innings on two sac flies that scored 2 more runs. In all, 5 of the 8 runs the Marines scored were scored by runners that either reached base via walk or by HBP.
Tomoya Satozaki went 2-for-2 with an HBP, 2 doubles, 2 runs scored, and 4 RBI. Shoitsu Ohmatsu (2-for-3, 2B, 2 R, RBI) and Toshiaki Imae (2-for-2, BB, 2 RBI) also picked up 2 hits for the Marines.
G.G. Sato (3-for-4, 2B, 2 R) led the Lions with 3 hits in four trips to the plate; Kenta Matsuzaka (1-for-1, HR, R, 3 RBI) entered the game as a defensive replacement for a pinch-hitter in the bottom of the 6th and smacked his first homer of the season, a 3-run shot in the top of the 8th.
Hirano (2 IP, 5 H, 2 K, 3 BB, HBP, 5 R, 5 ER) started the game for the Lions and took the loss. Shingo Ono (6 IP, 5.1 IP, 6 H, 4 K, BB, 2 R, 2 ER) got the start for the Marines and won his second game of the season. Tadahiro Ogino gave up a lead-off single but retired the next three batters in order for his 6th save of the season.
The Lions have now lost 7 straight Sunday games.
Chiba Lotte Marines
Attendance: 14,363
Time: 3h 9m
Orix Buffaloes 6 - Nippon Ham Fighters 0
For the first time in 9 games, the Buffaloes managed to get on the board first. And they did in the second on Shinji Shimoyama's (3-for-4, 2 2B, HR, 2 R, 3 RBI) 5th home run of the season.
Naoyuki Ohmura went 3-for-5 with an RBI. Both Jose Fernadez (2-for-4, HR, 2 R, RBI) and Fumihiro Suzuki (2-for-3, BB, 2B, RBI) picked up 2 hits a piece for the Buffaloes.
The Fighters couldn't really get much going against Atsuhiro Mitsuhara. The Fighters did, however, have someone on base in 7 different innings, but only two of those got to second (one on a double and one advanced on a ground out). Atsunori Inaba was the lone bright spot in the line-up: 2-for-4 with a double.
Mitsuhara (5 IP, 3 H, K, HBP, 0 R) pitched, and started, in his first game of the season and put a stop to a 9-game losing streak. Masaru Takeda (5 IP, 9 H, 2 K, BB, 4 R, 4 ER) had a rough start and got the loss.
Perhaps it was fitting that Mitsuhara managed to end the Buffaloes' currently losing streak, seeing that his last win came in 2005 during his first year in the pros. ... The Fighters were shut-out for the first time this season. ... The Buffaloes have had a different line-up for every game they have played this season.
Kyocera Dome
Attendance: 19,467
Time: 2h 49m


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Almost 6,000 foreign nurses have been recruited by English hospitals in the past year, new figures have shown, leading to calls for ministers to "get a grip" on a training crisis in the profession.
Three-quarters of all 140 acute hospital trusts in England filled a shortfall in registered nurses with 5,778 foreign staff, according to an investigation by the Health Service Journal (HSJ).
Dr Peter Carter, the chief executive of the Royal College of Nursing, said the figures indicated "lamentable workforce planning" in the health service.
Spain, Portugal and the Philippines provided more than 3,700 nurses combined in the 12 months to September 2014, while 14 trusts each hired more than 100 nurses.
Meanwhile, King's College Hospital in south London, recruited a total of 276 – higher than any other trust.
Some 93 hospital trusts indicated that they would continue to recruit foreign nurses in the same period next year, with 32 suggesting they would seek to hire a combined 1,800 more.
But the Department of Health highlighted figures from the Nursing and Midwifery Council showing that, in the 12 months to March this year, 28,958 people registered as nurses and midwives. Of these, 5,388 were trained in Europe and 840 from elsewhere overseas.
Dr Carter blamed cuts in training places for the shortfall in British staff to fill the acute hospital posts.He told the BBC Radio 4 Today programme: "There's nothing wrong with people from overseas; the health service has done well over the years from the West Indies, Mauritius, Malaysia and so on.
"But there's something wrong with a system that has such lamentable workforce planning that we have now got a crisis and you have got people recruiting from all points of the compass.
"Someone really has to take responsibility for this."
He said it would be "totally unacceptable" for hospitals to employ foreign nurses if they were unable to speak English fluently.
"It's no good taking on people who can't speak the language," he said.
"This was wholly avoidable and we are now playing catch-up. You do need to be able to communicate with people, and people should not be employing people that can't do the job properly."
He added: "Individual trusts and hospitals are not responsible for commissioning the number of training places.
"That was taken out of their hands, that was done by the health authorities and now you have this shortfall.
"This is not the way to run a health service."
Dr Carter continued: "The Government has to take responsibility for their actions, they have got to get a grip."
There were 200,000 applicants for 20,000 training places a year, he said.
"We should increase the number of training places, we should welcome that fact that people want to be nurses, and we should embrace them."
A Department of Health spokesman said: "There are now more than 5,600 more nurses on our wards than in 2010, and we have created 1,000 extra adult nursing training places this year.
"Individual trusts are responsible for planning and recruiting their workforce, but it is important to note that overseas nurses have always made a valuable contribution to the NHS."


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Did you see my yesterday's post on corner bookmarks? Here is another set I made for ICR EXPO... Every one really liked it.. :)
Here they are...
Laughter Bookmark:
Smile bookmark:
Best friends Bookmark:
The CS is local buy. Most of the PPs are from Echo Park except 1st once which is DCWV... I loved the 1st one as the Background DCWV PP was matching so well with the Itsy Bitsy 3D stickers... The stamped sentiments are from TPC - Playful expressions from Jovita's store.
I hope you liked these...
Thanks for visiting!
Have a great Sunday!


text: Napa River Grill is looking for individuals that want to join a 4-star, award winning kitchen. Come join our team as we offer competitive pay and full-time positions. Feel free to stop by 1211 Herr Lane (Westport Village) and fill out an application or send in your resume to email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.com


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I adore these glass cutting boards, afetr I received so many Holiday orders for them it gave me a chance to actually view them in person, and they turn out amazing.
It inspired me to come up with a few new designs for 2011 and I thought I would share here!
Have a great Monday.
Monday, January 10, 2011
New cutting board design!
Posted by Painted Preppy at 12:42 PM
1 comment:
- Southern Living: Preppy Style said...
LOVE these, what a great wedding gift!
- January 11, 2011 at 5:58 AM
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text:
Published: May 26th 2011Pages: 540
Format: Paperback (New)
Stars: ★ ★ ★
When literature student Anastasia Steele is drafted to interview the successful young entrepreneur Christian Grey for her campus magazine, she finds him attractive, enigmatic and intimidating. Convinced their meeting went badly, she tries to put Grey out of her mind - until he happens to turn up at the out-of-town hardware store where she works part-time.
The unworldly, innocent Ana is shocked to realize she wants this man, and when he warns her to keep her distance it only makes her more desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Ana's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Grey admits he wants her - but on his own terms.
Shocked yet thrilled by Grey's singular erotic tastes, Ana hesitates. For all the trappings of success – his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving adoptive family – Grey is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a passionate, physical and daring affair, Ana learns more about her own dark desires, as well as the Christian Grey hidden away from public scrutiny.
Can their relationship transcend physical passion? Will Ana find it in herself to submit to the self-indulgent Master? And if she does, will she still love what she finds?
Erotic, amusing, and deeply moving, the Fifty Shades Trilogy is a tale that will obsess you, possess you, and stay with you forever.
Let me just start out by saying, when a book gets a lot of hype (good or bad) , I usually end up sucked into reading it. I believe that's part of being a bookworm and book blogger. We have to know so we can give an opinion on it. That is the reason that I have decided to read Fifty Shades of Grey. I just had to know!
The first thing that I have to say about this book is that I would have a lot more respect for it if it was NOT labelled as a romance novel. Why? Well to be nice, Mr Grey is an...a!s and Ana just seems to be way too gullible to know any better. In my opinion, that does not make a romance novel and I think that people (mostly girls and women) are really going to get the wrong idea about what true love is. Mr. Grey and Ana are NOT it.
Second point, the writing is pretty bad. I mean, I have read worse written books then this one but that doesn't make this one good. I feel like this was written by someone who knows nothing about sex or the real meaning of love.
So..If you go into this series knowing these two things, maybe you will enjoy it. It reminds me of a car crash. You try to look away but it sucks you in.


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The industry's premier estates, gifts, and trusts resource that features research, planning, and implementation tools on one platform — backed by the nation's leading...
People enter and sometimes win lotteries, receiving a long-term stream of cash. The winnings from a lottery are included in one's estate. Unfortunately, the lottery winners in Carol J. Negron, Executrix v. U.S., 103 AFTR2d 2009-634 (6th Cir. 2009), failed to appreciate the impact of the IRS method of calculating the remaining annuity payments. In Negron, the Sixth Circuit reversed and remanded to the district court, sternly stating that the IRS annuity tables (§7520 and Regs. §20.2031-7(d) and §20.7520-1) generally control, and the taxpayer has a heavy burden to successfully argue that the IRS tables produce an unreasonable and unrealistic result.
The Sixth Circuit panel determined that the district judge had been swayed away from the law by the facts of the case. In 1991, three people jointly won the Ohio Super Lotto Jackpot of $20 million. Two of these winners died in late 2001. Both were entitled to 15 more lottery payments. Payments were, as is typical, not assignable and not able to be used as collateral. Negron, the plaintiff, was appointed executrix of both estates and cashed in the annuities for lump sum payments. She paid estate taxes based on the lump sum payment received, and not the present value of the remaining annuity payments, determined by the IRS tables. Unfortunately, the Ohio tables for such valuation differed from the IRS tables. Ohio used a 9% discount rate, rather than the 5.0% and 5.6% discount rates applicable to the estates under the IRS tables. The discount rate used by the Ohio lottery was a present value calculated from the date of the lottery and the IRS present value was from tables in effect at the time of death. The Ohio calculation resulted in a lower lump sum payment than the IRS annuity tables provide. Thus, the IRS requested and received an additional $330,302 from the estate of one decedent and $141,175 from the estate of the other. The executrix appealed for both estates. In reviewing the district court's ruling that the IRS tables be ignored, the Sixth Circuit noted that the taxpayer chose to take the lump sum payment, and this payment caused the reduction in value:
It is tempting to accept the argument that a person's estate should not be taxed on a lottery annuity amount it did not receive. The additional tax burden does not seem fair. However, the difference in the amount received and the value for federal tax purposes occurred because of the interaction between the state and federal discount rates: Ohio with a discount rate in effect on the date the prize was won and the IRS with a discount rate in effect on the date of death. … The estates chose to take lump sum payments rather than to continue the annuities…. It was the estates' choice that made the results of the IRS assessment particularly unpleasant ….
There remains a split among circuits and some district courts in circuits which have not formally considered the issue. Prior to Negron, the split was:
Second and Ninth Circuits holding that the IRS tables need not be followed because the tables do not accurately reflect the fair market value of future lottery payments with marketability restrictions, and the Fifth Circuit and district courts in Massachusetts and New Hampshire (First Circuit) requiring that the tables be used. Gribauskas Est. v. Comr., 342 F.3d 85 (2d Cir. 2003); Shackleford v. U.S., 262 F.3d 1028 (9th Cir. 2001); Cook v. Comr., 349 F.3d 850, 854-55 (5th Cir. 2003); Anthony v. U.S., 520 F.3d 374 (5th Cir. 2008); Davis v. U.S., 491 F. Supp.2d 192 (D.N.H. 2007); Donovan Est. v. U.S., 95 AFTR2d 2005-2131 (D. Mass. 2005). The Fifth Circuit opinions have all held that the valuations inherent in the tables already take into consideration marketability restrictions, and so no additional "lack of marketability" discount will be allowed.
Practice Point: Even if you are in the Second or Ninth Circuit, do not rely on earlier decisions to the effect that the IRS annuity valuation tables need not be followed. If you work with a lottery winner in the pre-death planning stage, help plan for a way of paying the estate taxes other than having to cash in the annuity for a lump sum. If you are not consulted until after death and the only way to pay the estate taxes is to cash in the annuity or borrow to pay the estate taxes, be creative and see if there are, perhaps, private purchasers in the market who are willing to take the risk of non-assignability and pay more in a lump sum than the lottery commission.
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I enjoy combining products and designs to make an original one. That is what I did with this card. I took a border dye from Cheery Lynn Designs called Carnivale and combined it with a punch from Martha Stewart to make this lacy border and toped it with a narrow pink ribbon. The image in the middle is the negative of a die from Cheery Lynn, Window C, and in the middle I used a cut out image from a stamp by Our Daily Bread. Under it peeking out of the top is a diecut called Marietta Buckle from Memory Box. The dainty butterflies are from Cheery Lynn also. The two roses are at the place where the border comes to a point.
This card was made for the Border challenge on Classy Cards n Such. They carry all the dies shown plus many more and some other Our Daily Bread Designs stamps. The ribbon, roses, and punch were from my stash.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Multiple Borders
Posted by Vicki Romaine at 7:24 PM
2 comments:
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In a planet where humans must scavenge the post-apocalyptic barren wasteland, Hirokin – a reluctant warrior with a dark past – sets off on mission to fulfill his destiny. Having fought to the death to save his wife and son ...
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Join us every Saturday and Sunday in our Edington Farm Shop for a full cooked breakfast, using the finest locally sourced ingredients.
For just £10pp you can treat your self to a full English breakfast, Italian filter coffee or from a selection of teas.
We look forward to seeing you on Sunday! Breakfast served 9am until 11am.


text:
Her air, her manners, all who saw admired.
GEOKGE CRABBE, Parish Register, Part II, 1807
Metta Victoria Fuller, one of Beadle's most faithful writers, was born near Erie, Pennsylvania, March 2, 1831, the third of five children of Adonijah Fuller and Lucy (Williams) Fuller. In 1839 the family removed to Wooster, Ohio, where Metta attended a female seminary. When but thirteen years of age, "The Silver Lute" was published by the local newspaper. In 1846, when she was fifteen, her first romance, "The Last Days of Tul; A Romance of the Lost Cities of Yucatan," was published in Boston, and at the same time she was writing, under the pseudonym "The Singing Sybil"(1) for the New York Home Journal—at that time published by N. P. Willis and George P. Morris. In that journal, also, her story "The Tempter" was published as a serial. This was said to have created a decided sensation in Great Britain, where it was pronounced to be a fitting conclusion for Dr. Croly's "Salathiel." Actually, it was pretty terrible, and gave no indication of the talent which later was to make her one of the most popular and charming writers of her time.
With proudly-heaving bosom, and glowing cheek, and flashing eye, the young girl stood before a mirror of polished steel, and gazed upon her bewildering loveliness. Intoxicating emotions, new and strange, were swelling her heart. Wild visions of future triumph and power were mingling with the softer pulsations of love.
But the appointed hour drew nigh. A glittering chariot, drawn by twelve snowy steeds, was in waiting; and, resplendent with jewels, and pride, and beauty, Alda was borne through the illuminated streets of the city.
In 1850 or 1851, she and her sister Frances were living in Ypsilanti, Michigan, and Metta was there married to a Dr. Morse.(2) What became of him is unknown, but soon afterwards she and her sister went east to enter the literary field, and in 1851 their "Poems of Sentiment and Imagination" apneared. In the same year was published Metta's "The Senator's Son; or, The Maine Law, A Last Refuge," and it was claimed that ten editions were issued in this country, and that 30,000 copies were sold in England. Metta was improving in style, but she was still far from good.
"Why do the ladies come away from the table first, mother? Don't they eat as much as the gentlemen?"
"I hardly think they do, Parke," replied the lady with a smile; "but the gentlemen are not eating; they are drinking wine."
"Don't the ladies drink wine?"
"A little, sometimes."
"Fresh Leaves from Western Woods" was published in Buffalo in 1852. "Fashionable Dissipations" and "Mormon Wives" followed in 1854 and 1856. She was still moralizing, but the stories were becoming more sensational. At the same time she was contributing to the Saturday Evening Post and the Saturday Evening Bulletin.
In July, 1856, †in Mansfield, Ohio, she was married to Orville J. Victor, at that time editor of the Sandusky, Ohio, My Register, and in the same month he became the editor of the quarterly Cosmopolitan Art Journal, published in Sandusky and New York City. In the summer of 1858, Mr. and Mrs. Victor removed to New York City, where both became contributors to the leading periodicals. In 1869 Mr. Victor became editor of the Illuminated Western World, a newspaper sized sheet with colored illustrations, and in it some of Mrs. Victor's longer stories appeared.
Her first work for Beadle was as editor of The Home in January, 1859, when that magazine was moved from Buffalo to New York. Her first contribution to the ten cent publications of the firm was No. I of the Handbook series, "Dime Cook-Book," which was published during the early part of the same year. The "Dime Recipe Book" followed in July, 1859, and it is barely possible that "Louis LeGrand, M.D." who edited the first four Dime Dialogues, 1859-66, and the "Letter Writer," 1860, also was Mrs. Victor—perhaps both Mr. and Mrs. Victor used the same pen name. (See under Louis LeGrand.)
Mrs. Victor's first romance for Beadle was Dime Novel No. 4, "Alice Wilde," which was published August I, 1860. This was followed by No. 10, "The Backwoods Bride," November I, and this by the first and only Half-Dime Novelette, "Myrtle, the Child of the Prairie," December 8 of the same year. The latter was published under the pseudonym "Rose Kennedy," which she used here for the first time.
By this time Mrs. Victor had developed into a very skillful and clever writer, and numerous Dime Novels followed in the succeeding years. Besides writing for Beadle she also wrote poems, sketches, and stories for other publishers, even though her husband had become Beadle's editor. In 1864 she published, under the name "Seeley Regester," her novel "The Dead Letter," which was reprinted in Beadle''s Monthly in 1866.
Several other novels were published under the same name. She wrote various humorous stories for the Cosmopolitan Art Journal, some of them under the name "Mrs. Mark Peabody."(3) Among these were "Miss Slimmens' Window," "Miss Slimmens' Boarding-House," and "Lucy in the City." Anonymously she published some very clever books of humor: "A Bad Boy's Diary," "The Rasher Family," "The Naughty Girl's Diary," and "The Blunders of a Bashful Man."(4) All of these, including the Miss Slimmens stories, which later were published in book form by Derby and Jackson in New York, 1859, are listed in Allibone under the names of both Mrs. Victor and Walter T. Gray.(5) The latter name, presumably, must be regarded as a pseudonym of Mrs. Victor.
Mrs. Victor's stories were very popular, and it is said that for the stories which she wrote exclusively for the New York Weekly, beginning October 20, 1870, she received $25,000. Her "Maum Guinea," Dime Novel No. 33, published in 1861, has repeatedly been said to have been praised by Abraham Lincoln. "It is as absorbing as Uncle Tom's Cabin," are the words quoted by Harvey,(6) but the source of his information is not revealed. It was immensely popular and was several times reprinted.
Two other pseudonyms of Mrs. Victor, not mentioned above, were "Corinne Cushman" and "Eleanor Lee Edwards." For confirmation, see elsewhere in this book.
Mrs. Victor died at her home on the Franklin turnpike in Hohokus, New Jersey, June 26, 1885, and was buried in the family lot in Valleau Cemetery. Here also are buried her husband (Orville J. Victor (q.v.) and their children Lillian (Mrs. Robert Besant, 1857-1911), Bertha (1860-1895), and Lucy (1863-1882). Their other children were Alice (1859-1932),Winthrop (1861-1915, m. Eva Woodbridge), Guy (1865-1916, m. Emily Daisy Johnson), Metta (1866-1942), Vivia (1872-1931), and Florence (1872, twin now living in Boston).
REFERENCES: Cosmopolitan Art Journal, March, 1857, with portrait; The Home, VI, December, 1858, 247-50, with portrait; Allibone, Dict. Eng. Lit., III, and Supplement, II, 1469; see also Supplement I, under Walter T. Gray; New York Saturday Journal, XII, No. 589, June 25, 1881; Appleton's Cyc. Amer. Biog., 1887; Nat. Cyc. Amer. Biog., IV, 1897, 522-23; Willard and Livermore, American Women, 1897, 734—35, with a poor portrait; Lamb's Biog. Dict., VII, 1903, 444-45; John Hunter, "Metta Victoria Fuller Victor," Magazine of Poetry, VIII, 1896, 266; William T. Coggeshall, Poets and Poetry of the West; The People's Home Journal, 1906, with portrait. Letters to me from Miss Florence Victor, May 2 and 20, 1949, and Orville Winthrop Victor, May 30, 1949.
The Home. Vol. VII, The Wrong Righted.
Handbooks. Nos. 1, 2, 4
Dime Novels. Nos. 4, 10, 16, 33, 40, 49, 60, 81, 448, 487, 504, 510, 539, 544, 555
Fifteen Cent Novels. Nos. 4, 10, 16
Special Publication (London). Maum Guinea.
American Library (London). Nos. 2, 5, 8, 26, 39, 48
Sixpenny Tales (London). No. 5 American Library Tales (London). Vol. I (partim)
Standard Library of Romance. Vol. I (partim)
Beadle's Monthly. Vol. II, Who Was He?
Fifty Cent Novels. (Unnumbered), Who Was He?
Saturday Journal. Nos. 36, 590, 608, 625
New and Old Friends. Nos. 6, 8
Pocket Novels. No. 5
Cheap Edition of Popular Authors. No. 3
Twenty Cent Novels. Nos. 14, 17
Fireside Library. Nos. 43, 141
Waverley Library (quarto). No. 132
Waverley Library (octavo). No. 19
Boy's Library (octavo). No. 277
Under the name "Corinne Cushman" were published:
Saturday Journal. Nos. 330, 340, 351, 367, 412, 431, 451,
475, 501, 524, 538, 579
Banner Weekly. No. 648
Cheap Edition of Popular Authors. Nos. 18, 21, 23
Fireside Library. Nos. 9, 37, 38, 41, 48, 53, 65, 72, 75, 78, 118
Waverley Library (quarto). Nos. 13, 147, 151, 172, 178, 184, 190, 194, 200
Under the name "Eleanor Lee Edwards" was published:
Starr's Fifteen Cent Novels. No. 2
Under the name "Rose Kennedy" were published:
Dime Novels. Nos. 14, 23 (partim), 54, 520
Fifteen Cent Novels. No. 14
Half-Dime Novelette. No. 1
Dime Library of Choice Fiction. No. 5
Beadle's Monthly. I (short story)
Waverley Library (quarto). Nos. 10, 37
Waverley Library (octavo). Nos. 12, 25
Under the name "Seeley Regester" were published:
Beadle's Monthly. I (The Dead Letter).
Fifty Cent Novels. Dead Letter (unnumbered), Figure Eight (unnumbered)
Saturday Journal. No. 385
Cheap Edition of Popular Authors. No. 7
Fireside Library. Nos. 44, 46
"Maum Guinea; or, Christmas among the Slaves." Dime Novel No. 33, pp. 83-99.
In a kind of half-whisper, enough in itself to make what she said impressive, and which chilled through her susceptible audience like a breath of north wind, Sophy began her story:
"I was born in Southampton county, in ole Virginny; I lived on massa's plantation all de time; I was kind of kitchen-girl, and done chores, and learned to cook, and w'en I was fifteen I was married. Me and my man, we had a cabin of our own, and lived togedder berry comfortable. Massa's farm was a tobacky farm. My man's name was Nelson. He was good to me; t'ought mighty sight o' me, and w'en I had my fust baby—laws! he was de tickledest and de most sot-up nigger you eber saw. Ah, Lord-a-mighty, don' I recolleck dat yit?
"He was good to me; but somehow anodder he got into trouble wid oberseer purty often; I 'spect he was sometimes a little sassy. You know some bosses and oxen dey hab to be drove, and whipped, and scolded more'n oders, to make 'em go de ways dey's wanted— dey's kind o' stubborn. Well, so it was wid Nelson. I 'spect he'd got some notion in his head 'bout not liking to be ordered 'round so; and our oberseer was mighty cross man, allers knocking niggers about.
"One day, w'en my baby was 'bout t'ree months ole, I'd got done de work at de house; 'twas summer ebening, and warm, and I'd come home to cook my man's supper, and nuss my baby. Troo' de day I hav to leave my young'un wid all de rest, in care of old brack woman too ole to do much work. Dey keep de babies in a kind o' pen, w'ere dey could crawl 'round widout much tendin'—I could go and nuss it once in a w'ile—well, I come here at night, and got his supper ready for him, and den sot down in de door to play wid my little one. I felt very nice dat time, 'kase de head-cook had gib me piece of cold chicken and rice-pudding for my man, for helpin' her right smart wid de big dinner for company; and I was t'inking w'at a treat it would be to Nelson. But Nelson didn' come home. He usually got home by dark, summer days; but de clocks strike nine, ten, and he didn' come. I began to stop singing, and to feel drefful oppressed 'bout breathing. I t'ought mebbe it was because de night was so warm. Little Sam was soun' asleep, so I laid him down on de bed, and started off to look for my husband. Suthin took me right straight to de corn-house; and as I came dost to it, I hearn somebody groanin'. I knew 'twas him, and I flew and tore open de door, and dar he lay. De oberseer had gib him awful whipping—awful! and den, here de weather was so warm, he'd jist turn de salt and water over his back and let him lay.
"I helped him up and got him home; he didn't eat no cold chicken nor no rice puddin' dat night. Massa scold de oberseer for whippin' Nelson so hard, 'kase he was one of his best hands, and he couldn't go to work ag'in fer 'most two weeks. After dat he let my husband alone for a long time; but dar wasn't any good feeling between de two. I use to beg Nelson not to aggrawate him, 'cause he was a bad-tempered man, anyhow, and he wouldn't gain nothing but blows and cusses by going contrawise to him; but he was spunky too, Nelson was, and once-and-a-while de fire would blaze up dat he tried so hard fer to keep down. I knew he did try, for my sake, 'cause I begged him so hard.
"Our Sam was a beautiful pickaninny: so round, and fat, and shiny, and so full of fun. Wen he got big enough to roll around and kick, to laugh, and, bym-bye, to holler 'Pop, Pop!' w'en his fadder come home, den Nelson grew more happy-like. He lubbed his boy so much, he forgot his bad feelings tow'd de oberseer; he didn't set no more of ebenings glooming over de whipping he got. Massa liked him berry much, 'kase Nelson had more sense'n most niggers, and he use to get him to do all de pertikeler jobs 'bout de farm. Sometimes he'd gib him few shillings silber; den Nelson he'd buy suthin for his boy, and he got him a red calico frock—real turkey calico—the purtiest you eber see.
"One day I was up to de house wid Sam; Nelson was pickin tobacky in de field. Sam was goin' on two year old, and used to play about de yard or kitchen w'ile I was working 'round. I'd jist dropped de taters I was peeling, and run out to see w'at he was doing, w'en I met massa and a strange gemman walking through de yard, and dey stopped to look at my boy, and dey praised him up wonderful. He had on his red dress, and I wan't surprised dat dey t'ought him a right smart, purty chile; but I didn't t'ink netting farder, for 'tain't often, yer know, dat masters sell little chil'ren 'way from der mudders. Bym-bye I heard de gemman say, kind of low:
"'I'll give you five hundred for him—not a cent more.'
"My heart jumped right up in my mouf; I went and picked my boy up, and stood a-looking at 'em, wild-like.
"'Sophy,' says massa, kind of laughin', but shamed-like, 'How'd you like to give up your boy to this nice gemman here? He'd be took good care of—jest as good as you could give him.'
"'Oh, massa!' dat was every word I could say; but I didn't belieb him den, 'kase he was a kind of laughin', and I t'ought he was tryin' me for a joke.
"'I've partly promised him to dis gemman; so you may wash him up and get him ready, for he's got to leab in two hours, in de stage.'
"'Oh, massa, I can't! I can't!'—I kind of screamed it out, which made him a little angry, for he spoke more sharp.
"Pshaw!' says he, 'don't be foolish, Sophy. He'll be well treated. You see, dis gemman has got a girl has lost her baby, and she wants annoder, and she'll be extra kind to it. You'll hab anodder in a month or two, and den you won't mind de loss of dis so much,' and he laughed. 'One'll be 'nuff for you to take care of; don't be selfish, my girl. Go and get de boy ready, and bring him back here; and be spry 'bout it—ain't no time to spare. I'll show you de girl as is to keep him, and you'll see she's a nice pusson.'
"'Can't I take him down to de field to bid his pop good-bye?' I asked.
"'Dar won't be time; besides, it'll only make you both feel wuss. Wen your oder baby is born, you won't miss dis. Come, Sophy, be spry.'
"I went to my cabin wid my boy. I tried to get out a little apron to put on him, and to wash his face and hands. But I was too weak; I jist staggered to de bed, and set down and cried ober him, and kissed him. T'ree, four times I tried to get up, for I knew massa would be awful mad; but I couldn't and dar I sot w'en he come after us.
"Wy didn't you bring him up to de house? De stage is going by in a few minutes. You don't behave yourself berry well, Sophy,' says he, and he takes my boy out of my arms, and walks out of de room wid him—and dat's de last I eber see of Sam.
"I sot dar, kind of stupid; and bym-bye I heerd de stage coach coming 'long de road, and it stopped afore de house. I tried to get up, but I was too weak. Den, w'en it started on again, I flew out like a wild creature, and up de lane to de gate, jes' in time to see it whirlin' ober de hill—and dat was all. I guess I kind of fainted, till I come to, and heerd old Bess, de head-cook speaking to me, and she put her arm round me and lifted me up.
"'Nebber mind," says she, 'you'll get used to it. I's had five sold away, in my time. Come, I'll go back to your cabin wid you. I's got a little sperits here will rewive you up.'
"'Nelson! Nelson!' was all I said.
"'Yis, he'll take it harder dan most men would. But he'll get ober it. Don' fret, honey. Eberybody has trouble. Las' year, massa hisself had a purty little girl die; your baby ain't dead; cheer up, honey.'
"'I wish it was dead,' I muttered.
"She took me in de house and made me drink some brandy, and staid wid me as long as she could, till she hed to go back and get supper. Den I sat alone, t'inking what Nelson would say w'en he came in, and his boy gone. It didn't 'pear to me as if 'twas so; I'd git up and look in de bed, see if Sam wasn't dar, fast asleep—den I set down ag'in, and wish my husband nebber would come home.
"I heerd him comin' along, whistlin', and he puts his head in de door, and calls out:
"'Sam! Sam! here's poppy cotched a squirrel in de fence. Come, Sam!' Den he looked at me, and says he, 'Is he asleep?'—den for de fust time, I bust out a-cryin', and he let de squirrel drop, and looks round sharp, and says: 'Wat's happened?—is de boy hurt?'
"'Oh, Nelson, massa's sold him, and dey's took him far away.'
"He dropped down on de step 'sif he was shot, and nebber spoke. I crawled up to him and leaned my head on his shoulder, and dar we sot' 'most all night. He didn't say much—he wasn't no great talker no time— and all he t'ought not eben I could tell. But arter dat he was changed berry much. He was so silent and stubborn, I was almost 'fraid of him; but he did his work well—nobody complained of him.
"Well, w'en my next baby come along, I felt a little happier. It was a boy too, and I 'spected Nelson would get over his trouble, and take to de new pickaninny. He did. He was softer to it den he'd eber been to Sam; he never spanked it, nor got fretted wid it. But he didn't seem to play wid it so much, and he nebber come home whistlin'—ef I heard him whistlin' far oft, w'en he turned into de lane he allers stopped. 'Feared like as if he was allers afraid, w'en he opened de door, he shouldn't see no pickaninny dar. He was still, and hardworking, so dat eben dat ugly oberseer couldn't find much fault wid him.
"Dan was a likely boy, too—we called our second, Dan'l, after de good man in de Bible, who was took up from de den of lions, as de hymn says—jist as pert and healthy as little Sam had been. He was a favorite wid white and brack folks, jist as bright as a dollar, and so full of funny tricks. We tried not to set our hearts on him, for he'd be sold away too; but it 'peared as if de harder we tried not to, de closter he grew to us. We knew de smartest chil'ren sold de fust.
"Well, frien's, Dan'1 was spared to us till he was nigh six years old; and den massa had a bad crop, and a hard time, and he was getting more slaves den he could 'ford to keep and Dan was sold, wid a hull lot more, large and small.
"I asked massa to sell us 'long wid our child; but he sot so much store by Nelson, he didn't want to part wid him; 'sides, de cook was gettin' ole, and I mos'ly took her place. So our boy went away, and we nebber knew whar, †nor w'edder he be dead or libing now.
"Massa sot great store by Nelson, and it was sorry times for massa dat he did. Berry fine to like him, 'kase he honest and work hard; but he was a-playin' wid fire. w'en he sole his chil'ren away. My man wasn't like some niggers; he couldn' b'ar everyt'ing, and nebber seem to feel it. He couldn't laugh and sing, and take t'ings easy, no matter what happen. He didn' like knocks and whippins, and raising chil'ren for market, like as they was chickens and pigs.
"I wonder if dar's anybody 'round?" continued the story-teller, after a moment's pause. "Set up closter, my frien's, and fust let me look out a mink,"—and she went to the door, peered forth into the darkness, returned, and resumed her narrative in a half-whisper; "Not long after Dan was gone from us, Nelson begun to go out nights. He'd steal away after I was in bed, and wouldn't come in, sometimes, till nigh daylight. If I asked him whar he was, sometimes he'd say, huntin' coons; and ag'in, fishing, but he never brought no fish home, and I didn't believe him. 'Peared to me dar was suthin pertikeler on his mind, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Sometimes, when de oberseer had gib him a kick or a blow, he'd speak of it at night, and laugh in such a strange way, it made my flesh creep. I didn't know what to make of Nelson. Dough he was my own husband, and good to me, and we'd bin faithful to each oder, and lubbed each oder better'n most men and wives, I didn' understan' him, in dose times. But I knew he was troubled, and I lubbed him all de more. I knew he had only me, now Dan'1 was gone, for we'd had no more chil'ren, and I tried to be a good wife to him. I nebber scolded him for staying out, but tried to get him as good breakfast as I could; and I didn't pry into his business, only to say dat I wish I knew what was on his mind, 'kase I might comfort him. Den he'd shake his head, and say I shall done know all when de right time come.
"T'ings go on dis way for five or six months. One Sunnay he go ober to neighbor's farm, in de woods, to have a fine time, roasting a pig, wid some der hands. De niggers all like barbecues, and I was glad he was going—t'ought 'twould cheer him up a little. So he starts off a little 'fore noon, and 'twas two o'clock at night when de door opens, and my husband speaks in a whisper, telling me to get up and dress myself, and be ready, 'for mighty t'ings are to be done in de land.'
"Scar't and trembling, I got out and slipped on my frock, not knowing but de judgment-day of de Lord was at hand. Wen I was dressed, he come in, and six men wid him. De moon was just going down, and shone in de little square window, so I could see der faces. Dey looked awful—all scowling, and der eyes burning: and dey had guns and big knifes. Nelson had de big butcher-knife w'ich I used in cooking, sharpened up. I begun to cry and pray, when one nigger, I knowed him well—'twas Nat Turner, over to Travis', dat all de brack folks t'ought was a prophet—hushed me up.
Did you eber hear of Nat Turner? Yis, Ginny, you has —I see it in yer face. Nat Turner, he spoke in a clear, awful whisper, dat went straight tru' me, and he says:
"De work of de Lord begins dis night. I've seen it in de heavens—I've read de signs of de times: dar's been wonders in de sky, and drops of blood on de corn. De Holy Spirit has bid me arise, and prepare myself. I am to slay mine enemies widder own weapons; de black spirits contended wid de white in de heabens, and I see de blacks victorious. Cheer up, woman. Your chil'ren shall no longer be sold from your bosom, nor your husband lashed at de whipping-post. I am come to repay. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," saith the Lord.' Oh, Lord-a-mighty! he looked so turrible when he was a-talking; he said many more things, which I I'an't tell you as he said 'em. 'De Savior has ordered it, dat I be de liberator of my people—dat I lift 'em out of de han of de opressor. Dis night, we will begin His work. Not one white man, woman or chile, will we leave alive in Southampton county; we will conquer it, as did Washington in de Rebolution. Wen de Lord say unto us, "Smite!" den will we smite. We will not torment 'em wid de scourge, or wid fire, nor defile de women, as dey has done wid ours. But we will slay dem utterly, and consume dem from oft de face of de yearth.'
'"Oh, Nelson,' said I, clinging to him, as dey begun to go out, for de moon was sinkin', and dey were in haste to be off, 'w'atever you do to massa and missus, don't kill little Katie.'
"'Yes, we must not spare one—not one—not de baby at its mammy's breast,' he said shaking my hand berry hard. 'Good-bye, Sophy. We'll be back after you, w'en it's all over. Keep quiet. Don't let on you know anyt'ing. You shall be rich and happy—no more a slave. If de worst comes to de worst, fly to de Dismal Swamp. Dar will be frien's dar.'
"I still hung on to him. 'Don't murder Katie,' I whispered, 'I love her.'
"'So do I,' said he, 'but de Lord's work must be done.'
"I was just like ice, wid fright and horror. When dey went out, I stood shivering in de dark. Purty soon, I t'ought I heerd a scream, but I wasn't certain; den, in a few minutes more, I heerd 'em go to de stables and take out all de horses, and ride away. I darsn't stir, till mornin'; den, wid de first light, I heerd old Dinah screeching wild and loud, and going out, I met her coming from de house, wringing her hands, and her eyes sticking out. 'Come! come!' she says; 'Oh, Lord-a-mercy! Oh, Lord-a-mercy!' I knew already, but I kept still, and run after her into de house. Dar, just dragged from der beds, in der night-clo'es, was massa and missus, stone dead, der throats cut, like as dey were pigs, and de carpet soaked full of blood. I jist gib one look, and run into de little bedroom off deyr's, war I knew Miss Katie slept. Oh, Christ! I see it now! I nebber shall forget it! Ebery night, w'en I wake up in de dark, I see her, jest as I see her den—dat beautiful chile—lying in her purty bed, murdered—her dimpling t'roat all cut straight across, and de blood gluing her shining curls to her neck and cheek. She was so sweet and kind, Katie was, and only ten years ole. She was like my own pickaninnies to me. She'd allers been fond of me, 'kase I took care of her w'en she was baby, de first year I was married. Dar she lay, de innocent—no mudder, no fadder, to straighten her little limbs, and wash dat cruel blood away. I sot down on de edge of de bed, and held her hand, and cried ober it, and kissed her poor little face. De whole plantation was awake, and takin' on awful. Most of de men had jined de insurrectioners, and gone off, and de women was hollerin' and prayin'. De oberseer was dead, too, and I felt glad when I heard it. But I couldn't feel glad when I looked at little Katie. I t'ought over how I felt when I found my husband, most killed with whipping, and de salt brine on his bleeding back—w'en I heard de stage-coach rumble away over de hill wid my little Sam—w'en Dan'l was took away—w'en I had been flogged myself— I t'ought of all our wrongs and hardships, and I couldn't blame my husband—I knew he b'lieved he was doin' de Lord's work—but I wished dey had spared dear Katie.
"Dar was an awful time after dat," continued the narrator, her voice rising, but still in a whisper, high and sharp. "Oh! dar was an awful time. All Mr. Travis' family was murdered too; and de're niggers joined ours, and dey rode on to de next plantation; dar dey killed all de white people, and got more help, and dey went 'round about to every house, all night, all day, all next night, all next day—for eight-and-forty hours de work went on. At ebery place de slaves rose up, and aided dem; they murdered de're own masters and missuses, and de bery chil'ren dey played wid. Dey b'lieved Nat Turner was a prophet, and de time of der deliverance was at hand. Yes, dey b'lieved it. Dey obeyed him, w'at he told 'em. All de dark spots slaves hide 'way in de're hearts, and say nothin', come to light den—all de fires break tru' de ashes den, and blaze up turrible. Do you t'ink it was right, my frien's?"
"Yes," said Hyperion.
"No," said Rose.
"Well, de most of 'em t'ought it was right, w'edder it were, or not. Liberty is sweet, even to poor brack slave—and in Virginny dar's plenty of white blood mixed wid ours, you all know. Dey murdered der own fadders, der own brudders and sisters, no doubt, many times; but w'at were dese, more dan oders, 'cept to make 'em feel more spiteful.
"We waited in fear and trembling; praying and crying, we waited. Oh, dose were awful days!—awful for de poor white women and chil'ren dat had fled for de're lives, w'en dey heerd w'at was going on. Dey were hid in de woods, night and day. I saw 'em myself, lots of 'em, w'en I went off to hear what I could hear. I pitied 'em—more'n dey'd ever pitied me. I took meat and bread to some dat were in Travis' woods, wid de're chil'ren most starved.
"I begun to t'ink that Turner was sure 'nuff a prophet—dat new times was coming for poor brack people; I begun to dream of independence and liberty, such as had been our masters', and if it hadn't been for little Katie, I'd have felt joyful enough to sing hymns of triumph. I could sew, and I took one of her white dresses and made her a little shroud, and put her in a box—for nobody come to bury the dead, and we women dug a grave and put her in. Some de foolish nigger-girls dey help derselves to missus' jewelry and fine clothes, and put 'em on, and dance and cut up; but I made 'em put 'em back and behave derselves—leastwise, till dey heard how matters was going.
"So we waited. At night we would see ghosts and hear turrible cries. Some of us didn't dar' to go near de house, 'kase of de corpses dar. And I, after little Katie was buried, didn't want to go nigh. De dead bodies begun to corrupt, for 'twas hot August weather; but we women-folks couldn't bury 'em. So we waited—Oh, Lord-a-mighty, yes!
"'Twas four nights now, and I was lying awake in my cabin, thinking over things so fast I couldn' sleep, and the latch raised softly and Nelson come in, I was so 'fraid of sperits, and awful things, I'd kept my lamp a-burning, and I could see how tired and sad he looked.
"'It's all up, I'm afeared,' he said, in answer to my first question. 'We got along well enough, till they stopped ag'in our will, at Parker's—we ought to have pushed on to the village before they heerd the news there; but we didn't. The whites got after us. They've scattered us, now. I come back here, in hopes of finding Nat and getting wid him again.—I'd have some hopes, if I could get wid him.'
"'Oh, Nelson, what'll we do?' I cried, but he looked so worn and fagged, I wouldn't tell him how heavy my heart was; I sot some milk and potatoes on the table, and he eat like a starving man.
"'Sophy, I must go,' says he, as soon as he'd done eating.
"I begged him to let me go wid him, w'atever happened; but he wouldn't hear to it den; he said I'd be a drawback, 'kase dey might get wid Nat, and get to fightin' de whites ag'in, and den women-folks would be in de way.
"'You jest hold your tongue, and don't let on dat you ever knowed what was goin' on; and you won't be harmed,' says he. 'If I don't get back for you—if it's a failure after all, and de Lord widholds His help— den, if you don' hear from me, jest wait your chance, ef you have to wait a year, and run away de fus' opportunity, and make your way to de Dismal Swamp--it's only twenty-five miles from here, and you'll find frien's, dar!"
"He wrung my hand most off, and I clung to him like a burr, but he broke away, and went out into de night, and I crept back into bed to purtend to sleep, as if nothin' had happened. De next day many white men rode up to de house, all armed wid swords, pistols and guns; and dey buried massa and missus, and dey dragged off every colored man dar was, w'at had nothin' to do wid de troubles at all.
"After that, dar was white men all de time riding ober de country and soldiers 'way from Norfolk and Richmond, dey come to help put down de blacks. Oh, Lord-a-mercy! dem was awful times!
"Dey done and gone and butchered our people wid-out judge or jury—hundreds and hundreds was shot, which was a mussiful death, quick over. But shooting was too good for any but de innocent—dem dey suspected having had anyt'hing to do wid de insurrectioners, dey hanged, and whipped, and burned—yes, burned —oh, Lord!" Here the story-teller drew in her breath with a strange, inward gurgle and shriek, which made every one of her auditory jump to their feet and sink back again.
"Dey burned Nelson," she continued after several moments of silence. "I'll tell you how 'twas. You see dey came, great lot o' white folks one day, and dey took me, and dey tell me my husband was arrested, and in Jerusalem jail; and dey say if I 'fess w'edder he was guilty or not, and tell all I know 'bout Nat Turner, dey wouldn' punish me, dey'd let me be in peace—but if I didn' tell every word I knowed, dey would whip me till I couldn't stand. I tol' 'em, I shouldn' say nothin' agin my own husband, and I didn' know nothin' 'bout Nat Turner—I'd never see'd him but once, and I didn' know nothin 'bout him, good or bad. I knew w'at was comin', and I prayed deep and still to de Lord above to pity me; but I wouldn't tell on Nelson. Dey stripped me stark naked, tied me up, and whipped me till I was most dead; but I wouldn't 'fess. I fainted away, and dey trow pickle on me, and left me; and next day dey come back and tie me up ag'in and whip me on my raw back, and den dey turn me round and whip me t'odder side, till I was raw all round. I kin show you de scars, dey're on my breast, dey're on my back. But my lips was shut, only I screamed at fust; till I got beyond dat, and passed away to anodder world—a hell of misery, where it 'peared to me I'd lived a hundred years, wid devils yelling 'round me, and red-hot fire a-falling on me all de time. So at last dey give me up, 'kase dey t'ought I was dead anyhow. But I come to: de old cook, who was so old and foolish dey let her alone, she nussed me up: and dar I lay, day arter day, so sore I couldn stir, wondering what dey'd done wid Nelson. It 'peared as if de wish to hear 'bout him, to walk to de village and see him, if he was still in jail, gib me strength to get well. It was t'ree weeks before I could crawl; den I set out, and crept along as best I could; it was fifteen miles to Jerusalem, whar de jail and courthouse was, and it took me nigh two days to get dar. I asked de jailer let me see my husband; he swore at me, and giving me a kick, told me to 'cl'ar out! I'd never see him again, till I see him in h—! I asked him w'at dey did wid him; he wouldn' tell me, but I found out afterwards, one way and 'nodder, dough some folks was 'human enough not to want to let me know. Fust dey tried to make him 'fess, as dey did me, by flogging. Dey tied his han's and feet, and bent his knees up to his shoul'ers and fastened dem wid a stick; den dey rolled him on de floor like as he was a bar'l, and dey lashed him mor'n two hundred times. Wat you s'pose he t'ought of? S'pose he t'ought of Sam and Dan'1, s'pose he t'ought of blows and kicks—woll, woll! it's over now, nigh onto thirty year. Dey kept him in jail 'bout two weeks; and he had his trial; and dey proved on him, dat he was a ring-leader—dat he was Prophet Nat's right-hand man, and dey was going to hang him; but de mob got hold of him, and dragged him from de officers, and swore hanging was too good for him—and so—that's what become of Nelson!
"'Spect I was kind o' crazy-like for a w'ile—next thing I knew, I was lyin' on little Katie's grave. Ole cook found me, and made me eat; and in two or t'ree days a change come ober me—I was kind o' lifted out o' my misery. It come into my head dat Nat Turner was in de woods dost by, and dat he would starve to def. You see dey hadn't found him yet, and dar was hundreds a lookin' for him. De whole country was in a trimble; women couldn't sleep a-nights, nor men lay down der guns till Prophet Nat was found.
"It come into my mind to carry him food, and I made a pocket in my dress, and put in bread and 'taters, and went a-wanderin' roun' night and day, purtendin' I was getting yerbs and fire-wood. Dar was lots of white folks, eberywhar keeping watch, all de time, on ebery road, and in de woods. Once I heard a whisper, just a short piece off—it was daytime, den, and de whisper called me —Sophy!' and I looked sharp and saw a man's face, peering out of de ground, as it were, and I see in a minit it was Nat Turner's, and I answered him low-like—purtending to pick up sticks: 'Wat is it, Nat? I see ye—can I help you any?' And he answers back—'Come to-night, and bring me food—I'm starving—don't speak now, pass on.' So dat night, I went ag'in, berry cautious, and I found him, whar he'd dug a hole beside a log, and crawled in, and hid de place wid leaves and bushes, and I gib him suthin to eat, and told him what had happened to Nelson, and all de news I could—and he tol' me if I ever see his wife, to tell her 'bout him; and I darsn't stay but a minit, for de woods was full of men, night and day. In dis way, I brought him food two, t'ree weeks; once I went, and he was gone. Nex' day I heard, he'd been seen, and driven out, but had escaped. Ten days later, dey rea'ly cotched him, and den I knew 'twas all up wid him. De mob tried to kill him on de way to jail; but he had his trial and was hung.
"When he was hung and dead, dar was rejoicing in de land. De white folks breafed free ag'in. He died like a man—Oh, he was a prophet, sure 'nuff, Nat Turner was; but he couldn' overcome dis yere wicked worl'— de time wasn't ripe.
"I went to see his wife, arter he was dead. She'd been a purty cre'tur, young and bright, wid good white blood in her, too. They'd just been whippin' her cruelly to make her give up her husband's papers. I tol' her w'at I'd done for Nat in de woods, and she t'ank me heartily.
"Bruised, and beaten, and sore, no money, no home, no massa or missus, no chil'ren, no husband—woll, I hung 'round de ole cabin a spell, and den I starts for de Dismal Swamp. I couldn' bring myself to hire out to Southampton people, and nobody claimed me yet; dough I heard de relatives of massa and missus was comin' to tend to de property, which made me hurry off de faster. So I foun' my way to de Dismal Swamp, and I live dar one whole winter, wid a band of runaways; and de hunters got on our track one day, and dey cotched me, and put me up at auction and sold me—and I'm a libin' yet.
"Sometimes I wonder if I should know Sam or Dan'l if I should meet 'em down in Louisanny—dey's growed big men now. But all I's looking forward to is to lay my poor, scarred body in de yearth, and go up to glory, see if I can find my husband dar."
It was some time after Sophy finished her story before any one felt like speaking. Then they all promised her faithfully never to repeat what they had heard—and slaves, it is proven, can keep a secret.
|William Cushing, Initials and Pseudonyms, 268.
|This marriage is mentioned in none of the biographies found, but it is incidentally noted in the Western Literary Messenger fur March, 1851. "A volume of poems by Frances A. and Metta V. Fuller (the latter now Mrs. Dr. Morse) has lately been issued," The marriage was also mentioned in the same journal for July, 1851, and in the Buffalo Commercial Advertiser March 20, 1858. †In The Message Bird, II, 546, December 2,1850, the following notice appeared: "The gifted 'Singing Sybil' (Miss Metta Victoria Fuller) was married on the 19th of November, to Dr. Richard E. Morse, of Michigan. Hon. E. B. Sadler, of Sandusky City, and Lieut. J. McKinstry, U.S.N., were among the bridal party. Dr. Morse and lady are to reside at Ypsilanti." No place of marriage was given, but it may have been in Michigan or in Fishkill, New York, where the Fullers had relatives, the W. W. Wrights, and with whom they had spent the preceding winter months.
|Mrs. Mark Peabody is given as one of Mrs. Victor's pseudonyms in The New York Weekly, XXV, No. 48, October 13, 1870.
|This was originally published as a serial in the New York Weekly, XXXI, beginning in the issue for June 19, 1876.
|A humorous sketch by Walter T. Gray appeared in the Chicago Ledger, XIV, November 3, 1886. Nowhere else, except in the books mentioned above, has this pseudonym been found.
|Charles M. Harvey, "The Dime Novel in American Life," Atlantic Monthly, C, July, 1907, 39.