text:
New federal rules for telecom industry may clarify whose Internet it is
Whose Internet is it anyway?
Tom Wheeler, chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, says he's keeping that question in mind as he pitches the biggest regulatory shake-up to the telecommunications industry since 1996, when people still used noisy modems and referred to the "information superhighway" as a fun way to buy books or check the weather.
Wheeler has not publicly released his plan yet, and might not for a few weeks. But he has suggested that Internet service has become as critical to people in the United States as water, electricity or phone service and should be regulated like any other public utility.
Wheeler told reporters this past week that he wants "yardsticks in place to determine what is in the best interest of consumers as opposed to what is in the best interest of the gatekeepers."
That has the industry sounding the alarms, warning consumers of an inevitable $72 annual tax increase on each U.S. wireless account. But advocates of the approach say that is not likely to happen and that your Internet experience probably will carry on as usual.
A look at what "net neutrality" means and what is likely to happen:
Net neutrality is the idea that Internet providers should not move some content faster than others or enter into paid agreements with companies such as Netflix to prioritize their data.
Broadband providers have questioned the fairness of this approach. They have invested heavily in a sophisticated infrastructure and question whether the government should be telling them how to run their networks and package services.
But what if the major cable companies that provide much of the nation's broadband had free rein to load some files faster than others? It is easy to imagine scenarios where these providers might favor content produced by their affiliates or start charging "tolls" to move data. Consumers naturally would gravitate toward faster sites and services that pay those fees, while smaller startups or nonprofits get shut out.
The FCC had used the 1996 Telecommunications Act, which was intended to encourage competition in the telephone and cable industry, to enforce "open Internet" rules, until recently, when a federal appeals court knocked down that approach.
President Barack Obama and consumer advocates say a better tack would be to apply Title II of the 1934 Communications Act. That law, written with radio, telegraph and phone service in mind, prohibits companies from charging unreasonable rates or threatening access to services that are critical to society.
Industry likens that approach to cracking a nut with a sledgehammer.
Wheeler says he will circulate his proposal among the other FCC commissioners before Thursday. He has suggested it probably will apply Title II regulation to all Internet service, including wireless, but with some caveats.
Industry experts expect that Wheeler will say many rules should not apply to broadband, invoking what's called "forbearance."
The commissioners will vote Feb. 26. Wheeler expected to have the support of the other two Democratic commissioners. The two Republican commissioners have made clear that they do not support applying Title II.
Next stop will be the courts. Industry lobbyists and FCC officials say there's no doubt one of the big providers will sue and probably ask the court to suspend enforcement of the new regulation pending appeal. It's possible the issue won't be resolved for several more years, even well into the next president's first term.
Lawmakers could try to resolve the uncertainty, but Congress rarely is that pragmatic. Lawmakers tend to take on issues that fire up their base or bring their states money, and an in-the-weeds compromise on telecommunications law would be a lot of work with little immediate payoff.
So far, Republicans have pitched an idea that would enforce basic open Internet rules but could strip the FCC of its ability to help local municipalities build their own broadband. It's a nonstarter for Obama and congressional Democrats who say poor and rural areas have been left behind in the deployment of high-speed Internet.
Assuming Wheeler's proposal satisfies consumer advocacy groups, Democrats would have little incentive to revisit the issue. While Republicans have the votes to ram though their own anti-regulation legislation without Democratic support, Obama would veto it.
Most Internet providers, except Sprint, have warned the legal uncertainty will chill future investments. FCC officials point to a recent wireless spectrum auction that has attracted some $44 billion as proof that the telecommunications industry is thriving even amid the current uncertainty.
As for taxes, the Progressive Policy Institute estimated that treating the Internet like phone service would trigger taxes and fees up to $15 billion a year, including $67 for each wired service and $72 for wireless in state and local taxes.
But that report, widely quoted by industry lobbyists, did not take into account the Internet Tax Freedom Act, which prohibits state and local governments from imposing new taxes on Internet access, or the FCC's ability to shield consumers against some state and local taxes by claiming the Internet is an "interstate" service.


text:
The Light Between Oceans: A Novel
By M.L. Stedman
About this ebook
After four harrowing years on the Western Front, Tom Sherbourne returns to Australia and takes a job as the lighthouse keeper on Janus Rock, nearly half a day's journey from the coast. To this isolated island, where the supply boat comes once a season, Tom brings a young, bold, and loving wife, Isabel. Years later, after two miscarriages and one stillbirth, the grieving Isabel hears a baby's cries on the wind. A boat has washed up onshore carrying a dead man and a living baby.
Tom, who keeps meticulous records and whose moral principles have withstood a horrific war, wants to report the man and infant immediately. But Isabel insists the baby is a "gift from God," and against Tom's judgment, they claim her as their own and name her Lucy. When she is two, Tom and Isabel return to the mainland and are reminded that there are other people in the world. Their choice has devastated one of them.
Editor's Note
A mother's love…
Moral codes, maternal instincts, and a young couple's marriage are put to the test when a boat carrying a dead man, and a very alive baby girl, washes onto the shore of a remote Australian island.
Reviews for The Light Between Oceans
784 ratings138 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This was my favorite book of 2013, so far. What an emotional book about the love between the mother and the child and between a wife and husband. The isolation of Janus Rock came across loud and clear. This would make a great movie.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Amazing writing, gripping story and characters. Its a touching story of love, and family, and life on a remote island and at the same time its this gripping drama just full of heart wrenching tragedy and everyone just being SO MISERABLE, but not in an annoying way. Its more complicated and true to life than that; its about consequences to the choices we make, its about how when you absolutely love someone you put them entirely before yourself. Amazing, enthralling right to the end. A wonderful read.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A tragic, poignant tale of deep pain, deep love and the consequences of both. Stedman creates characters who are oh so human, who make horrid choices and must live with the consequences, yet are good souls at heart. It is an engaging tale with the isolation of the lighthouse keeper's life mimicking the solitude with which one endures guilt, feels sorrow and also experiences love. Very nice debut!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Incredibly powerful book that makes you gage your own interpretations of right and wrong under the circumstances presented by M.L. Steadman.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Beautifully written. Heartbreaking but beautiful. In the 1920's, an isolated lighthouse keeper and his wife on an island off the Australian coast suffer miscarriage after miscarriage. When one day a boat washes ashore carrying a dead man and a live infant, the wife thinks her prayers have been answered; the husband is uneasy and wants to report it immediately. The wife convinces him that the baby's parents must be dead, they keep the baby and raise her as their daughter. When they discover that the child's birth mother is still alive, the wife rationalizes that they can't possibly tear their daughter, now four, away from the only life she's known. The husband's guilt is overwhelming and he seeks ways to make the situation right. Of course, there is no way to make the situation right, and that is the beauty of this book- the author pursues an issue so heartbreaking that there can be no way to right it. Life is filled with situations where there is no right or wrong, or where there is no way to truly right a wrong that has impacted so many lives, and Stedman has embraced this moral truth and steered it to a conclusion that felt, to me, most acceptable. As I read, I didn't think the conclusion could possibly be tolerable, but it was. This would be a great book for a book group-- lots to discuss-- and it is definitely one that provokes you to ask "what would I do?" Stedman is an amazing storyteller. This book was painful-- it's the first book that has made me tear up in a long time-- but worth it.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Excellent read. FIlled with moral dilemmas.
Book preview
The Light Between Oceans - M.L. Stedman
More Praise for The Light Between Oceans
A moving tale . . . Prepare to weep.
—Susannah Meadows, The New York Times
Lyrical . . . Stedman's debut signals a career certain to deliver future treasures.
A must-read.
—Ladies' Home Journal
The stunning debut novel you need to know about.
—Oprah's Book Club 2.0
This fine, suspenseful debut explores desperation, morality, and loss, and considers the damaging ways in which we store our private sorrows, and the consequences of such terrible secrets.
—Carmela Ciuraru, Martha Stewart Whole Living
An unexpected novel, both in the story it tells and the gentleness with which the author, M. L. Stedman, conveys emotional violence . . . the tension escalates in this intense and intimate drama.
—Sherryl Connelly, New York Daily News
Stedman is from Australia, and the voice she brings to the novel is lovely. She offers gorgeous descriptions of the land and its natural inhabitants.
—Barbara Ellis, The Denver Post
With incredibly visual prose evocative of the time and place, compelling characters, themes of forgiveness and redemption, and a riveting plot that won't let you put the book down, this is a great debut novel.
—Judy Crosby, IndieBound
Remarkable . . . Stedman brings this couple and their lives nearly a hundred years ago to life so vividly that it's as if you're walking the stairs of the lighthouse with them. . . . You won't be able to stop reading all the way to the heartbreaking, ultimately satisfying conclusion.
—Jennifer Hiller, San Antonio News-Express
The miraculous arrival of a child in the life of a barren couple delivers profound love but also the seeds of destruction. Moral dilemmas don't come more exquisite than the one around which Australian novelist Stedman constructs her debut.
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
Haunting . . . Stedman draws the reader into her emotionally complex story right from the beginning, with lush descriptions of this savage and beautiful landscape, and vivid characters with whom we can readily empathize. Hers is a stunning and memorable debut.
—Booklist (starred review)
[Stedman sets] the stage beautifully to allow for a heart-wrenching moral dilemma to play out . . . Most impressive is the subtle yet profound maturation of Isabel and Tom as characters.
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
A love story that is both persuasive and tender.
—Elizabeth Buchan, The Sunday Times (UK)
Stedman writes with a delicate and imaginative touch. . . . This is a novel that cleverly takes a populist concept and turns it into an accessible and beautifully written piece of literature. It will make you cry, its characters will stay with you for days after you have finished with it.
—Emma Cowing, The Scotsman (UK)
An extraordinary book . . .The tragedy is as inevitable as Hardy at his most doom-laden. And as unforgettable.
—Sue Arnold, The Guardian (UK)
M. L. Stedman proves herself to be an accomplished writer in this, her debut novel. . . . Like a lighthouse, it shines light on dark places, and its emotional resonance will stay with you for days.
—Lauren Turner, Irish Examiner
"The Light Between Oceans stays with you long after you have turned the last page. . . . What makes this wonderful novel stand out from the crowd is the cast of emotionally fragile characters, all of whom inspire tremendous sympathy in the reader. . . . Beautifully written, the novel poses an impossible dilemma and makes us question the judgments of all involved."
—Lianne Kolirin, Daily Express (UK)
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UPtitle
Part One
27th April 1926
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part Two
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Part Three
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
In memory of my parents.map
PART ONEline
On the day of the miracle, Isabel was kneeling at the cliff's edge, tending the small, newly made driftwood cross. A single fat cloud snailed across the late-April sky, which stretched above the island in a mirror of the ocean below. Isabel sprinkled more water and patted down the soil around the rosemary bush she had just planted.
… and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, she whispered.
For just a moment, her mind tricked her into hearing an infant's cry. She dismissed the illusion, her eye drawn instead by a pod of whales weaving their way up the coast to calve in the warmer waters, emerging now and again with a fluke of their tails like needles through tapestry. She heard the cry again, louder this time on the early-morning breeze. Impossible.
From this side of the island, there was only vastness, all the way to Africa. Here, the Indian Ocean washed into the Great Southern Ocean and together they stretched like an edgeless carpet below the cliffs. On days like this it seemed so solid she had the impression she could walk to Madagascar in a journey of blue upon blue. The other side of the island looked back, fretful, toward the Australian mainland nearly a hundred miles away, not quite belonging to the land, yet not quite free of it, the highest of a string of under-sea mountains that rose from the ocean floor like teeth along a jagged jaw bone, waiting to devour any innocent ships in their final dash for harbor.
As if to make amends, the island—Janus Rock—offered a lighthouse, its beam providing a mantle of safety for thirty miles. Each night the air sang with the steady hum of the lantern as it turned, turned, turned; even-handed, not blaming the rocks, not fearing the waves: there for salvation if wanted.
The crying persisted. The door of the lighthouse clanged in the distance, and Tom's tall frame appeared on the gallery as he scanned the island with binoculars.
Izzy, he yelled,
a boat! and pointed to the cove.
On the beach—a boat!
He vanished, and re-emerged a moment later at ground level.
Looks like there's someone in it, he shouted. Isabel hurried as best she could to meet him, and he held her arm as they navigated the steep, well-worn path to the little beach.
It's a boat all right, Tom declared.
And—oh cripes! There's a bloke, but—
The figure was motionless, flopped over the seat, yet the cries still rang out. Tom rushed to the dinghy, and tried to rouse the man before searching the space in the bow from where the sound came. He hoisted out a woolen bundle: a woman's soft lavender cardigan wrapped around a tiny, screaming infant.
Bloody hell! he exclaimed.
Bloody hell, Izzy. It's—
A baby! Oh my Lord above! Oh Tom! Tom! Here—give it to me!
He handed her the bundle, and tried again to revive the stranger: no pulse. He turned to Isabel, who was examining the diminutive creature.
He's gone, Izz. The baby?
It's all right, by the looks. No cuts or bruises. It's so tiny! she said, then, turning to the child as she cuddled it,
There, there. You're safe now, little one. You're safe, you beautiful thing.
Tom stood still, considering the man's body, clenching his eyes tight shut and opening them again to check he wasn't dreaming. The baby had stopped crying and was taking gulps of breath in Isabel's arms.
Can't see any marks on the fellow, and he doesn't look diseased. He can't have been adrift long… You wouldn't credit it. He paused.
You take the baby up to the house, Izz, and I'll get something to cover the body.
But, Tom—
It'll be a hell of a job to get him up the path. Better leave him here until help comes. Don't want the birds or the flies getting at him though—there's some canvas up in the shed should do. He spoke calmly enough, but his hands and face felt cold, as old shadows blotted out the bright autumn sunshine.
Janus Rock was a square mile of green, with enough grass to feed the few sheep and goats and the handful of chickens, and enough topsoil to sustain the rudimentary vegetable patch. The only trees were two towering Norfolk pines planted by the crews from Point Partageuse who had built the light station over thirty years before, in 1889. A cluster of old graves remembered a shipwreck long before that, when the Pride of Birmingham foundered on the greedy rocks in daylight. In such a ship the light itself had later been brought from England, proudly bearing the name Chance Brothers, a guarantee of the most advanced technology of its day—capable of assembly anywhere, no matter how inhospitable or hard to reach.
The currents hauled in all manner of things: flotsam and jetsam swirled as if between twin propellers; bits of wreckage, tea chests, whalebones. Things turned up in their own time, in their own way. The light station sat solidly in the middle of the island, the keeper's cottage and outbuildings hunkered down beside the lighthouse, cowed from decades of lashing winds.
In the kitchen, Isabel sat at the old table, the baby in her arms wrapped in a downy yellow blanket. Tom scraped his boots slowly on the mat as he entered, and rested a callused hand on her shoulder.
I've covered the poor soul. How's the little one?
It's a girl, said Isabel with a smile.
I gave her a bath. She seems healthy enough.
The baby turned to him with wide eyes, drinking in his glance.
What on earth must she make of it all? he wondered aloud.
Given her some milk too, haven't I, sweet thing? Isabel cooed, turning it into a question for the baby.
Oh, she's so, so perfect, Tom, she said, and kissed the child.
Lord knows what she's been through.
Tom took a bottle of brandy from the pine cupboard and poured himself a small measure, downing it in one. He sat beside his wife, watching the light play on her face as she contemplated the treasure in her arms. The baby followed every movement of her eyes, as though Isabel might escape if she did not hold her with her gaze.
Oh, little one, Isabel crooned,
poor, poor little one, as the baby nuzzled her face in toward her breast. Tom could hear tears in her voice, and the memory of an invisible presence hung in the air between them.
She likes you, he said. Then, almost to himself,
Makes me think of how things might have been. He added quickly,
I mean… I didn't mean… You look like you were born to it, that's all. He stroked her cheek.
Isabel glanced up at him.
I know, love. I know what you mean. I feel the same.
He put his arms around his wife and the child. Isabel could smell the brandy on his breath. She murmured,
Oh Tom, thank God we found her in time.
Tom kissed her, then put his lips to the baby's forehead. The three of them stayed like that for a long moment, until the child began to wriggle, thrusting a fist out from under the blanket.
Well—Tom gave a stretch as he stood up—
I'll go and send a signal, report the dinghy; get them to send a boat for the body. And for Miss Muffet here.
Not yet! Isabel said as she touched the baby's fingers.
I mean, there's no rush to do it right this minute. The poor man's not going to get any worse now. And this little chicken's had quite enough of boats for the moment, I'd say. Leave it a while. Give her a chance to catch her breath.
It'll take hours for them to get here. She'll be all right. You've already quietened her down, little thing.
Let's just wait. After all, it can't make much difference.
It's all got to go in the log, pet. You know I've got to report everything straightaway, Tom said, for his duties included noting every significant event at or near the light station, from passing ships and weather, to problems with the apparatus.
Do it in the morning, eh?
But what if the boat's from a ship?
It's a dinghy, not a lifeboat, she said.
Then the baby's probably got a mother waiting for it somewhere onshore, tearing her hair out. How would you feel if it was yours?
You saw the cardigan. The mother must have fallen out of the boat and drowned.
Sweetheart, we don't have any idea about the mother. Or about who the man was.
It's the most likely explanation, isn't it? Infants don't just wander off from their parents.
Izzy, anything's possible. We just don't know.
When did you ever hear of a tiny baby setting off in a boat without its mother? She held the child a fraction closer.
This is serious. The man's dead, Izz.
And the baby's alive. Have a heart, Tom.
Something in her tone struck him, and instead of simply contradicting her, he paused and considered her plea. Perhaps she needed a bit of time with a baby. Perhaps he owed her that. There was a silence, and Isabel turned to him in wordless appeal.
I suppose, at a pinch… he conceded, the words coming with great difficulty,
I could—leave the signal until the morning. First thing, though. As soon as the light's out.
Isabel kissed him, and squeezed his arm.
Better get back to the lantern room. I was in the middle of replacing the vapor tube, he said.
As he walked down the path, he heard the sweet notes of Isabel's voice as she sang,
Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly, blow the wind south o'er the bonnie blue sea. Though the music was tuneful, it failed to comfort him as he climbed the stairs of the light, fending off a strange uneasiness at the concession he had made.
16th December 1918
Yes, I realize that," Tom Sherbourne said. He was sitting in a spartan room, barely cooler than the sultry day outside. The Sydney summer rain pelted the window, and sent the people on the pavement scurrying for shelter.
"I mean very tough.
The man across the desk leaned forward for emphasis. It's no picnic. Not that Byron Bay's the worst posting on the Lights, but I want to make sure you know what you're in for." He tamped down the tobacco with his thumb and lit his pipe. Tom's letter of application had told the same story as many a fellow's around that time: born 28 September 1893; war spent in the Army; experience with the International Code and Morse; physically fit and well; honorable discharge. The rules stipulated that preference should be given to ex-servicemen.
It can't— Tom stopped, and began again.
All due respect, Mr. Coughlan, it's not likely to be tougher than the Western Front.
The man looked again at the details on the discharge papers, then at Tom, searching for something in his eyes, in his face.
No, son. You're probably right on that score. He rattled off some rules:
You pay your own passage to every posting. You're relief, so you don't get holidays. Permanent staff get a month's leave at the end of each three-year contract. He took up his fat pen and signed the form in front of him. As he rolled the stamp back and forth across the inkpad he said,
Welcome—he thumped it down in three places on the paper—
to the Commonwealth Lighthouse Service. On the form,
16th December 1918 glistened in wet ink.
The six months' relief posting at Byron Bay, up on the New South Wales coast, with two other keepers and their families, taught Tom the basics of life on the Lights. He followed that with a stint down on Maatsuyker, the wild island south of Tasmania where it rained most days of the year and the chickens blew into the sea during storms.
On the Lights, Tom Sherbourne has plenty of time to think about the war. About the faces, the voices of the blokes who had stood beside him, who saved his life one way or another; the ones whose dying words he heard, and those whose muttered jumbles he couldn't make out, but who he nodded to anyway.
Tom isn't one of the men whose legs trailed by a hank of sinews, or whose guts cascaded from their casing like slithering eels. Nor were his lungs turned to glue or his brains to stodge by the gas. But he's scarred all the same, having to live in the same skin as the man who did the things that needed to be done back then. He carries that other shadow, which is cast inward.
He tries not to dwell on it: he's seen plenty of men turned worse than useless that way. So he gets on with life around the edges of this thing he's got no name for. When he dreams about those years, the Tom who is experiencing them, the Tom who is there with blood on his hands, is a boy of eight or so. It's this small boy who's up against blokes with guns and bayonets, and he's worried because his school socks have slipped down and he can't hitch them up because he'll have to drop his gun to do it, and he's barely big enough even to hold that. And he can't find his mother anywhere.
Then he wakes and he's in a place where there's just wind and waves and light, and the intricate machinery that keeps the flame burning and the lantern turning. Always turning, always looking over its shoulder.
If he can only get far enough away—from people, from memory—time will do its job.line
Thousands of miles away on the west coast, Janus Rock was the furthest place on the continent from Tom's childhood home in Sydney. But Janus Light was the last sign of Australia he had seen as his troopship steamed for Egypt in 1915. The smell of the eucalypts had wafted for miles offshore from Albany, and when the scent faded away he was suddenly sick at the loss of something he didn't know he could miss. Then, hours later, true and steady, the light, with its five-second flash, came into view—his homeland's furthest reach—and its memory stayed with him through the years of hell that followed, like a farewell kiss. When, in June 1920, he got news of an urgent vacancy going on Janus, it was as though the light there were calling to him.
Teetering on the edge of the continental shelf, Janus was not a popular posting. Though its Grade One hardship rating meant a slightly higher salary, the old hands said it wasn't worth the money, which was meager all the same. The keeper Tom replaced on Janus was Trimble Docherty, who had caused a stir by reporting that his wife was signaling to passing ships by stringing up messages in the colored flags of the International Code. This was unsatisfactory to the authorities for two reasons: first, because the Deputy Director of Lighthouses had some years previously forbidden signaling by flags on Janus, as vessels put themselves at risk by sailing close enough to decipher them; and secondly, because the wife in question was recently deceased.
Considerable correspondence on the subject was generated in triplicate between Fremantle and Melbourne, with the Deputy Director in Fremantle putting the case for Docherty and his years of excellent service, to a Head Office concerned strictly with efficiency and cost and obeying the rules. A compromise was reached by which a temporary keeper would be engaged while Docherty was given six months' medical leave.
We wouldn't normally send a single man to Janus—it's pretty remote and a wife and family can be a great practical help, not just a comfort, the District Officer had said to Tom.
But seeing it's only temporary… You'll leave for Partageuse in two days, he said, and signed him up for six months.
There wasn't much to organize. No one to farewell. Two days later, Tom walked up the gangplank of the boat, armed with a kit bag and not much else. The SS Prometheus worked its way along the southern shores of Australia, stopping at various ports on its run between Sydney and Perth. The few cabins reserved for first-class passengers were on the upper deck, toward the bow. In third class, Tom shared a cabin with an elderly sailor.
Been making this trip for fifty years—they wouldn't have the cheek to ask me to pay. Bad luck, you know, the man had said cheerfully, then returned his attention to the large bottle of over-proof rum that kept him occupied. To escape the alcohol fumes, Tom took to walking the deck during the day. Of an evening there'd usually be a card game belowdecks.
You could still tell at a glance who'd been over there and who'd sat the war out at home. You could smell it on a man. Each tended to keep to his own kind. Being in the bowels of the vessel brought back memories of the troopships that took them first to the Middle East, and later to France. Within moments of arriving on board, they'd deduced, almost by an animal sense, who was an officer, who was lower ranks; where they'd been.
Just like on the troopships, the focus was on finding a bit of sport to liven up the journey. The game settled on was familiar enough: first one to score a souvenir off a first-class passenger was the winner. Not just any souvenir, though. The designated article was a pair of ladies' drawers.
Prize money's doubled if she's wearing them at the time.
The ringleader, a man by the name of McGowan, with a mustache, and fingers yellowed from his Woodbines, said he'd been chatting to one of the stewards about the passenger list: the choice was limited. There were ten cabins in all. A lawyer and his wife—best give them a wide berth; some elderly couples, a pair of old spinsters (promising), but best of all, some toff's daughter traveling on her own.
I reckon we can climb up the side and in through her window, he announced.
Who's with me?
The danger of the enterprise didn't surprise Tom. He'd heard dozens of such tales since he got back. Men who'd taken to risking their lives on a whim—treating the boom gates at level crossings as a gallop jump; swimming into rips to see if they could get out. So many men who had dodged death over there now seemed addicted to its lure. Still, this lot were free agents now. Probably just full of talk.line
The following night, when the nightmares were worse than usual, Tom decided to escape them by walking the decks. It was two a.m. He was free to wander wherever he wanted at that hour, so he paced methodically, watching the moonlight leave its wake on the water. He climbed to the upper deck, gripping the stair rail to counter the gentle rolling, and stood a moment at the top, taking in the freshness of the breeze and the steadiness of the stars that showered the night.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glimmer come on in one of the cabins. Even first-class passengers had trouble sleeping sometimes, he mused. Then, some sixth sense awoke in him—that familiar, indefinable instinct for trouble. He moved silently toward the cabin, and looked in through the window.
In the dim light, he saw a woman flat against the wall, pinned there even though the man before her wasn't touching her. He was an inch away from her face, with a leer Tom had seen too often. He recognized the man from belowdecks, and remembered the prize. Bloody idiots. He tried the door, and it opened.
Leave her alone, he said as he stepped into the cabin. He spoke calmly, but left no room for debate.
The man spun around to see who it was, and grinned when he recognized Tom.
Christ! Thought you were a steward! You can give me a hand, I was just—
I said leave her alone! Clear out. Now.
But I haven't finished. I was just going to make her day. He reeked of drink and stale tobacco.
Tom put a hand on his shoulder, with a grip so hard that the man cried out. He was a good six inches shorter than Tom, but tried to take a swing at him all the same. Tom seized his wrist and twisted it.
Name and rank!
McKenzie. Private. 3277. The unrequested serial number followed like a reflex.
Private, you'll apologize to this young lady and you'll get back to your bunk and you won't show your face on deck until we berth, you understand me?
Yes, sir! He turned to the woman.
Beg your pardon, Miss. Didn't mean any harm.
Still terrified, the woman gave the slightest nod.
Now, out! Tom said, and the man, deflated by sudden sobriety, shuffled from the cabin.
You all right? Tom asked the woman.
I—I think so.
Did he hurt you?
He didn't…—she was saying it to herself as much as to him—
he didn't actually touch me.
He took in the woman's face—her gray eyes seemed calmer now. Her dark hair was loose, in waves down to her arms, and her fists still gathered her nightgown to her neck. Tom reached for her dressing gown from a hook on the wall and draped it over her shoulders.
Thank you, she said.
Must have got an awful fright. I'm afraid some of us aren't used to civilized company these days.
She didn't speak.
You won't get any more trouble from him. He righted a chair that had been overturned in the encounter.
Up to you whether you report him, Miss. I'd say he's not the full quid now.
Her eyes asked a question.
Being over there changes a man. Right and wrong don't look so different any more to some. He turned to go, but put his head back through the doorway.
You've got every right to have him up on charges if you want. But I reckon he's probably got enough troubles. Like I said—up to you, and he disappeared through the door.
Point Partageuse got its name from French explorers who mapped the cape that jutted from the south-western corner of the Australian continent well before the British dash to colonize the west began in 1826. Since then, settlers had trickled north from Albany and south from the Swan River Colony, laying claim to the virgin forests in the hundreds of miles between. Cathedral-high trees were felled with handsaws to create grazing pasture; scrawny roads were hewn inch by stubborn inch by pale-skinned fellows with teams of shire horses, as this land, which had never before been scarred by man, was excoriated and burned, mapped and measured and meted out to those willing to try their luck in a hemisphere which might bring them desperation, death, or fortune beyond their dreams.
The community of Partageuse had drifted together like so much dust in a breeze, settling in this spot where two oceans met, because there was fresh water and a natural harbor and good soil. Its port was no rival to Albany, but convenient for locals shipping timber or sandalwood or beef. Little businesses had sprung up and clung on like lichen on a rock face, and the town had accumulated a school, a variety of churches with different hymns and architectures, a good few brick and stone houses and a lot more built of weatherboard and tin. It gradually produced various shops, a town hall, even a Dalgety's stock and station agency. And pubs. Many pubs.line
Throughout its infancy, the unspoken belief in Partageuse was that real things happened elsewhere. News of the outside world trickled in like rain dripped off the trees, a snippet here, a rumor there. The telegraph had speeded things up a bit when the line arrived in 1890, and since then a few folks had got telephones. The town had even sent troops off to the Transvaal in 1899 and lost a handful, but by and large, life in Partageuse was more of a sideshow, in which nothing too evil or too wonderful could ever happen.
Other towns in the West had known things different, of course: Kalgoorlie, for example, hundreds of miles inland, had underground rivers of gold crusted by desert. There, men wandered in with a wheel-barrow and a gold-pan and drove out in a motorcar paid for by a nugget as big as a cat, in a town that only half ironically had streets with names like Croesus. The world wanted what Kalgoorlie had. The offerings of Partageuse, its timber and sandalwood, were small beer: it wasn't flashy boom-time like Kal.
Then in 1914 things changed. Partageuse found that it too had something the world wanted. Men. Young men. Fit men. Men who had spent their lives swinging an ax or holding a plow and living it hard. Men who were the prime cut to be sacrificed on tactical altars a hemisphere away.
Nineteen fourteen was just flags and new-smelling leather on uniforms. It wasn't until a year later that life started to feel different—started to feel as if maybe this wasn't a sideshow after all—when, instead of getting back their precious, strapping husbands and sons, the women began to get telegrams. These bits of paper which could fall from stunned hands and blow about in the knife-sharp wind, which told you that the boy you'd suckled, bathed, scolded and cried over, was—well—wasn't. Partageuse joined the world late and in a painful labor.
Of course, the losing of children had always been a thing that had to be gone through. There had never been guarantee that conception would lead to a live birth, or that birth would lead to a life of any great length. Nature allowed only the fit and the lucky to share this paradise-in-the-making. Look inside the cover of any family Bible and you'd see the facts. The graveyards, too, told the story of the babies whose voices, because of a snakebite or a fever or a fall

subset: commoncrawl


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Nintendo has revealed new information about the Pokémon World Tournament game-play mode that debuts in the Pokémon Black Version 2 and Pokémon White Version 2 games, which launch for the Nintendo DS family of systems on Oct. 7. In Pokémon Black Version 2 and Pokémon White Version 2, players will return to the Unova region and embark on a new adventure set two years after the events of the acclaimed Pokémon Black Version and Pokémon White Version games.
The new Pokémon World Tournament includes the following:
- Compete Against Classic Gym Leaders: Enter the Pokémon World Tournament, an exciting battle arena where players will be able to take on numerous Gym Leaders and Champions from previous Pokémon video games. Fans of the series will be able to battle trainers like Lance, Champion from the Johto Region, and Volkner, Gym Leader from the Sinnoh Region. Players can also use a variety of battle styles and moves found in Pokémon Black Version 2 and Pokémon White Version 2 against these classic opponents.
- Battle Format: Players will enter the Pokémon World Tournament and be challenged to defeat all the Pokémon World Tournament opponents in order to win. Featured battles include single battles, double battles, triple battles and rotational battles. Also, using the Nintendo Wi-Fi Connection service, The Pokémon Company International will choose a select number of the top players and their Pokémon teams who are participating at the 2012 Pokémon Video Game World Championships and distribute them for battle in the Pokémon World Tournament. More details about this distribution will be announced later this year.


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The Story: Don't eat the fruit in the garden, Eden,, It wasn't in God's natural plan., You were only a rib,, And look at what you did,, To Adam, the father of Man.
The Story: You smell like goat, I'll see you in hell
The Story: All the b***h had said, all been washed in black
The Story: And my blunt is my ho now
The Story: At home, drawing pictures, Of mounds of tots, With ham on top
"Nasty" Funny Misheard Song Lyrics
by Prodigy
Did you or a friend mishear a lyric from "Nasty" by Prodigy? Click here and tell us!
Misheard "Nasty" LyricsDip her legs right in
Other Songs by ProdigyBreathe
For Your Love
Get Your Fight On
Marina and the Diamonds
Out of Space
Rebel Radio
Ruff in the Jungle Bizness
Shoot Down
Smack My Bitch Up
Wake Up Call
Wind it Up
Funniest Misheards by Prodigy


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Many thanks to Lillian Francis for donating an ebook copy of her recent m/m romance, Lesson Learned, for a lucky commenter to win!
Tired of having been constantly on the move, Drew is determined to make Cardiff his home. When Drew starts his new job as teacher in Cardiff, he strikes up an immediate friendship with Nathan Morgan, a young History teacher.
Nathan is instantly attracted to Drew, but doesn't want to risk their fledgling friendship by declaring the extent of his desire. Completely oblivious to Nathan's quandary, Drew doesn't realize the true nature of his own feelings for Nathan until accusations from a student force both men's hands.
But Drew has spent his life running away. Running away from his mistakes, his desires and a secret-filled past. Drew is forced to choose between running away once more and a possible future with Nathan.
About Lillian
An avid reader, Lillian Francis was always determined she wanted to write, but a 'proper' job and raising a family distracted her for over a decade. Over the years and thanks to the charms of the Internet, Lillian realized she'd been writing at least one of her characters in the wrong gender. Ever since, she's been happily letting her 'boys' run her writing life.
Lillian now divides her time between family, a job and the numerous men in her head all clamouring for 'their' story to be told.
Lillian lives in an imposing castle on a wind-swept desolate moor or in an elaborate 'shack' on the edge of a beach somewhere depending on her mood, with the heroes of her stories either chained up in the dungeon or wandering the shack serving drinks in nothing but skimpy barista aprons.
In reality, she would love to own a camper van and to live by the sea. You can find out more about Lillian and her books on her blog, Goodreads author page, and Twitter.
Contest Rules
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- If you haven't commented before, your comment will not be visible until after I moderate it. Please do not leave a second comment because your first doesn't show up! The blog gnomes will decide your comments are spam and then only ritual dust bunny sacrifice will salvage your entry…
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- This contest is open worldwide!
"Big kitty, my ear has to be clean by now!" -Mayhem


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How to catch a killer — it's one of the most universal questions a TV series can answer. And yet, it's also one that never seems to get old.
AMC's drama "The Killing," based upon a Danish television series, started off by asking, "Who Killed Rosie Larson?" After numerous award nominations — including across the board at the Emmys, the Critics Choice Television awards, the Saturn Awards and the Golden Globes — "The Killing" was canceled by AMC.
What happened next? Netflix happened. The media-streaming giant sought to acquire exclusive rights to a third season of "The Killing." Then, a few months later, AMC revived the show. The result has been an unexpected third season.
In seasons one and two of "The Killing," we get to know Seattle detectives Sarah Linden (Mireille Enos) and Stephen Holder (Joel Kinnaman).
Sarah is a short, skinny product of the foster-care system who always has her hair in a ponytail and likes to wear knit sweaters. On the outside, she seems unassuming and nonthreatening. But she has an uncanny nose for detective work and can't be intimidated. She's the type of cop who forgets to eat and sleep when she's working a case.
In contrast, Holder is tall and charismatic. He may be the only one who understands Linden's gift.
After navigating some rather prickly twists and turns — Sarah winds up institutionalized for a hot second and proves a willingness to sacrifice just about everything to catch this killer — the pair finally solves Rosie Larsen's murder.
At the start of season three, we re-visit our duo only to learn that one year later, Sarah is no longer a cop. Holder is teaming with someone else as they get called to the murder of a young runaway.
When Holder digs up apparent connections to an old case of Sarah's, she can't help but get sucked back into the world she left behind.
This time, however, our bad guy is a serial killer. Someone is murdering street kids, dozens of them, and all girls. That matches a murder that has stuck with Sarah over the years, but she caught the culprit and he's on death row. End of story. Or is it?
The new season is interesting because it is completely different from the previous two. Instead of a murder — past tense — we're dealing with an active killer with multiple victims.
I'm thrilled that "The Killing" is back. Like Mulder and Scully of "The X-Files,' Linden and Holder have that special something that makes me want to watch them for years to come.
I'm a fan!
By the way, if you don't have AMC, season 3 of "The Killing," like the show's previous seasons, will be available on Netflix.
How to catch a killer — it's one of the most universal questions a TV series can answer. And yet, it's also one that never seems to get old.


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Windows 8 isn't just for fun. Microsoft is also creating ways for businesses to use the OS and its Metro user interface. In the newest entry on the official Windows Store blog, Microsoft's Arik Cohen talks about how businesses can both release and manage Metro style Windows 8 apps.
Businesses will have the choice of releasing their Windows 8 Metro apps directly from the Windows Store or they can also set up a way for their IT workers to secure distribute the apps without going through the formal Windows Store certification process. Using the Windows Store for releasing apps will give software a greater reach. Cohen states:
You can offer your apps for sale directly to the business user, with each individual user making the purchase directly from the Store. Another option is to offer the app as a free download, then manage the sales and licensing directly with the business. Your app would then use authentication to bring specific functionality to each of your customer's users.
Businesses that want to release their apps outside the Windows Store can have their IT workers use the Windows App Certification Kit on those Metro apps to make sure that the software will run as planned with no issues. Those apps must also be signed by a Certificate Authority that is used by all of the PCs that will run the particular Metro app.
Those PCs must also be "enterprise sideloading enabled" on Windows 8 to allow non-Windows Store apps to run on those machines. The blog goes into detail about how IT admins can either release the Metro style apps with the initial Windows image or install the apps at runtime.
Managing the apps after they are released can also be handled by the company's IT admin. Cohen writes:
The Store is enabled by default for Windows 8. To access the store, all the end-user needs is a Microsoft account. IT admins can use familiar tools like AppLocker to allow or restrict apps from the Windows Store. This way, their users get access to the rich variety of apps in the Windows Store, but IT admins can restrict access as needed.
Join our busy Windows 8 beta community in our forums!


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[This post was written in collaboration with Christian Bauckhage and Rafet Sifa.]
Clustering is imminently useful for finding patterns in gameplay data. In this second post in the clustering series, we briefly outline several classes of algorithms and discuss the types of contexts they are useful in.
Cluster algorithms can be categorized based on how the underlying models operate. Not all cluster algorithms are easily classified, but the following four categories provide a baseline overview, which can be used to identify the overall provenance of the algorithms mentioned and/or used in the sections below. Note that the four categories below do not form the only way to typify cluster algorithms.
Hierarchy clustering: Also called connectivity based clustering, this category of models is based on the idea that objects are more related to nearby objects than those further away. Clusters are thus developed based on distance between objects in the data space. Hierarchy clustering models were among the earliest techniques developed, and care must be taken with respect to outliers that can cause cluster merging (chaining). Furthermore, these models do not scale well to big datasets. In general, the models can be either agglomerative (beginning with individual objects and aggregating them) or divisive (beginning with all observations in the dataset and partitioning them). Hierarchical models are further differentiated based on the distance function used. When applying these models, the analyst needs to decide which distance function to use, as well as decide which linkage criterion to employ, and finally which distance to use. Given the hierarchical nature of the algorithms, there is no single partitioning provided, but rather a hierarchy of clusters which expand or decrease in number based on distance, and the choice of distance function and linkage criterion.
Centroid clustering: Centroid based clustering is often used in game analytics, primarily due to popularity and widespread use of k-means clustering (Lloyd's algorithm), which forms the basis for centroid clustering techniques, and is conceptually easy to understand. Centroid based models represent clusters by a central vector, which does not need to be an actual object (the term k-medoids denote when centroids are restricted to objects in the dataset, k-medians when medians are used. Fuzzy assignment of clusters is also common, i.e. fuzzy c-means). The analyst needs to define the number of clusters in advance (the number can be defined via initial exploration of the dataset), and k-means clustering then targets the optimization problem of finding k centers and assigning objects to the nearest center, in a way that minimizes the squared distances. K-means finds local optima, not global optima, and is therefore typically run multiple times with randomized initializations. Modifications of the k-means algorithm such as k-medoids and spherical k-means allow for using other distance measures than Euclidian distance.
Distribution clustering: Distribution-based clustering directly relates to the use of distribution models (e.g. Gaussian/Normal) in statistics. Fundamentally, clusters are defined based on how likely the objects included are likely to belong to the same distribution. Distribution-based models can provide information beyond the cluster assignments of objects, for example correlation of object attributes, but suffer from overfitting problems if the complexity of the model used is not constrained – for example defining a specific number of Gaussian distributions (Gausian mixture models). Importantly, these models do not work if there is no mathematical model inherent in the dataset for the model to optimize, and assuming that data adhere to Gaussian distribution models is inherently dangerous.
Density clustering: In this group of models, clusters are defined based on identifying areas of higher density than what can be found in the remainder of the data space. These approaches apply a local cluster criterion, and the resulting clusters (regions in data space) can have an arbitrary shape, and the points within can be arbitrarily distributed. Density clustering is able to handle noise if the result of the noise is objects in areas of the dataspace that is sparse. Density-based models can discover clusters of arbitrary shape and are optimized in one scan; however, they require the analyst to define density parameters as termination condition. Among the commonly used methods are DBSCAN, OPTICS, DENCLUE and CLIQUE, which vary substantially in how they operate and come in numerous variations. Density-based models have rarely, if at all, been used on behavioral data from games, but might find use in the future due to the ability to handle noise, which is a common feature in behavioral game telemetry.
Validation of models
The validation of clustering structures is the mode difficult and frustrating part of cluster analysis. Without a strong effort in this direction, cluster analysis will remain a black art accessible only to those true believers who have experience and great courage.
A cluster model needs to be validated, or evaluated, before the results are implemented. A good cluster model consists of high-quality clusters with high intra-cluster similarity and low inter-cluster similarity. The quality of a result however depends both on the similarity measure used by the method of choice, and how it was implemented. Furthermore, the definition of distance functions is usually different for vector, ratio, ordinal, categorical, Boolean and interval-scaled features. Additionally, the quality of a clustering method can be measured based on its ability to discover some or all the hidden patterns in a dataset. Regardless, it is hard to define a "similar enough" or 'good enough" criterion – the answer is often subjective.
When running a classification algorithm on a dataset, there are a variety of measures available to evaluate how well the objects in the dataset fit the model. However, in cluster analysis there are no prior classes defined, and thus validation and evaluation of models risks becoming an 'eye of the beholder"-exercise, unless proper methods are employed.
A variety of different measures of similarity between two cluster results have been proposed, with the overall goal of comparing how well different algorithms perform on a specific dataset, i.e. for evaluating which method provides the best result. Two common approaches to cluster validation are internal and external evaluation. Internal evaluation operates on the dataset itself. External validation evaluates clustering results based on data that were not used in the cluster analysis, such as benchmarks or known classes. Both approaches have their strengths and weaknesses towards evaluating the results of different algorithms. For example, methods that work by assigning high scores to algorithms that produce high intra-cluster similarity and low inter-cluster similarity are biased towards algorithms that use the same cluster model, e.g. k-means clustering, leading to potential overrating of the result. For external validation methods, the key limitation is that clustering is often used in situations where there are no known classes or other external knowledge to compare with.
A full review of cluster validation techniques is out of scope here (see e.g. here and here), the key point being that cluster validation is a necessary step of any cluster analysis.
In the next post, we take a look at the specific challenges involved when using clustering for game analytics.
This post is cross-posted from the Game Analytics blog.
We are indebted to several colleagues for sharing their insights and feedback on this post, including but not limited to Christian Thurau, Fabian Hadiji and Shawn Connor.


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There appears to have been a security miracle in Ciudad Juarez, once one of the world's most violent cities. But while some applaud the city's police chief, Julian Leyzaola, others fret about his near-systematic violation of human rights.
Leyzaola's arrival in March 2011 coincided with a dramatic drop in crime and homicide levels; the homicide rate is now one-fifth of what it was in that month. In November, the city had 27 murders, its lowest monthly number in nearly three years.
The homicide rate, which reached an astounding 10 per day at one point, is down to about one per day. While this is still very high, the situation in Juarez now seems manageable.
Source: Fiscalia General de Justicia – Zone Norte del Estado de Chihuahua
Other crimes, such as extortion, kidnapping and car theft, have also dropped precipitously. Complaints of extortion are one-third of what they were 18 months ago. Kidnapping is reportedly at one-quarter of what it was at its peak. In early 2011, there were two months with 540 incidents of violent car theft; in December, 2012, there were 56.
Leyzaola, a retired lieutenant colonel, is all about confrontation. He has spent his tenure pushing police onto the streets, where they arrested anyone whom they saw as a threat. The numbers of arrests are as stunning as the crime statistics. In January 2011, the police arrested 1,462 people for suspected misdemeanors. In July 2012, that number was 13,568.
Many of those detained pay fines for violations such as failure to carry proper identification. Others lose a half-day's work. The result, say critics of Leyzaola, is that people are turning against the municipal government's security plan.
SEE ALSO: Coverage of US-Mexico Border
Case Study: Victor Ramon Longoria Carrillo
One case illustrates the intensity and troubling nature of this policy. On February 17, 2012, the police arrived at the house of Victor Ramon Longoria Carrillo. Without a warrant, the police entered the house, shoved Victor into his room, covered his head with a sack, and beat him.
"Where are the guns?" they asked. "Who do you work for?"
Victor, his sister, his wife, and two of their neighbors later testified that the police eventually dragged Victor into a van and drove away, without telling the family where they were taking him. The family followed the police in their own car until a military caravan stopped them, and the police continued to the station, where Victor said the beatings continued.
The police — according to Leyzaola's testimony to the Chihuahua State Human Rights Commission, which investigated the incident — were following a lead from three suspects who'd car-jacked an H2-version Hummer earlier that day (see full investigation – pdf, and El Diario's account).
The suspects said they'd stolen the car at the behest of their bosses, one of whom they identified as Victor. Two other alleged ringleaders were arrested along with Victor that same day. The men, the police said, had several AK-47s and munitions. One of them, they added, was alias "Kiko," a local criminal leader.
However, the commission found serious discrepancies in Leyzaola and the police's story. To begin with, Victor's house is nowhere near where the other two suspected leaders were arrested. The commission said Victor was arrested in his house, as he, his sister, his wife and the two neighbors testified. The commission added that the police had committed an illegal search and seizure at that house, and asked the municipal government to sanction the officers.
'Not Too Nice Yet'
The police do not hide their aggressive stance. Leyzaola did not agree to an interview. But others in the police who spoke to InSight Crime said there was no hidden agenda. In fact, the police flaunt their aggressive tactics, calling them the "attack" ("choque") phase. They believe that it can help them revive morale, belief in the institution, and respect from the populace and criminals alike.
"The police cannot become too nice just yet," one policeman, who was not authorized to speak on the record, told InSight Crime. "We are capturing killers. They don't think about human rights."
Juarez's mayor, Hector Murguia, has the same attitude, reportedly telling people that he'll leave before anyone gets rid of Leyzaola.
SEE ALSO: Profile of Juarez Cartel
The tricky debate of how to balance securing the city and protecting human rights often comes to a head at Juarez's citizen-run security committee, known as the Mesa de Seguridad. The Mesa was formed after the brutal January 2010 massacre of 15 teens, who were mistaken by their killers for members of a rival gang.
After the attack, President Felipe Calderon visited the city and met with civic and business leaders. Together they formed a series of working groups, or mesas, among them the Security Working Group, or Mesa de Seguridad.
The members of the Mesa are not Juarez's wealthiest. They are a mix of lawyers, doctors and businessmen. Some have security backgrounds. Most are citizens who decided to get involved as the security situation becomes dire for them, their relatives, their neighbors and their colleagues.
Now they find themselves on the front lines. The Mesa has become an important broker for security issues. Citizens who have a problem and do not trust the authorities will often call someone from the Mesa, who will call a trusted member of the security or law enforcement community, who will act on the tip. The result can be immediate, as illustrated by the drop in complaints about extortion.
To be sure, lowering extortion rates was at the center of the city's security plan. Leyzaola did his part by passing out his personal phone number to shop owners in the city's center. Those who called were surprised to get the lieutenant colonel himself on the phone.
After speaking to the shop owner, Leyzaola would give his officers a description of the suspect or suspects who had collected or threatened to collect the weekly quota, and the officers would pick them up. Leyzaola would then get the shop owner back on the telephone, while the officers would drive the suspects up and down the street. When the squad car passed the shop, the owner would tell Leyzaola whether those were the bagmen or not. That way, the shop owners did not have to put themselves at risk.
The municipal police is just one institution that has changed leaders. A new Chihuahua governor, Cesar Duarte, cleaned house at the state Attorney General's Office, including replacing its head, Patricia Gonzalez. Gonzalez was linked in press accounts to the Juarez Cartel, for which her brother was assassinated by suspected members of the Sinaloa Cartel (see video in "How Juarez's Police, Politicians Picked Winners of Gang War").
The most cynical observers say security gains in the city have come about because the Sinaloa Cartel has become the dominant player in the area. This may be, in part, true. But it is also shortsighted and places too much emphasis on the criminals rather than government actors.
Indeed, several security officials, who spoke to InSight Crime on condition their names or institutional affiliations were not revealed, said the various Mexican security and law enforcement bodies were working together better than ever. They added they were sharing more information with their US counterparts, who provided real-time intelligence, allowing Mexican authorities to arrest high-level suspects.
The Chihuahua and Juarez police are also restocking their ranks with new recruits and getting training from the United States. But the process is slow and illustrates just how fragile the security gains are. The Juarez police recently graduated its first class of recruits since Leyzaola's arrival. Of the 3,000 applicants, 100 passed the battery of obligatory mental aptitude, psychological and polygraph tests. Of those, 81 made it through basic training.
*Research for this article was paid for, in part, by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. The author's assertions do not, in any way, reflect this institution's positions on matters of security in Mexico or Ciudad Juarez.


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IT HAPPENED ON LOVE STREET by Lia Riley
Series: Everland, Georgia
Also by this author: Last First Kiss, Right Wrong Guy
Genres: Romance
Format: eARC
Buy the Book • Goodreads
In the tradition of New York Times bestselling authors Kristan Higgins, Jill Shalvis, and Marina Adair, comes the first in a new series by Lia Riley about two city sisters finding love in a small town.
The most romantic place she never wanted to be . . .
Pepper Knight moved to Everland, Georgia, as step one in her plan for a successful legal career. But after this big-city gal's plans go awry, going home with her tail between her legs isn't an option. So when the town vet—
and her sexy new neighbor—offers Pepper a temporary dog-walking job, she jumps at the chance. No one needs to know that man's best friend is her worst nightmare . . . or that Everland's hot animal whisperer leaves her panting.
The last thing Rhett Valentine wants is to be the center of small-town gossip. After his first love left him at the altar, he's been there, done that. These days, life is simple, just the way he likes it. But sultry southern nights get complicated once sparks fly between him and the knockout next door. When she proposes a sexy, secret fling—all the deliciousness and none of the prying neighbors-it seems too good to be true. And it is. Because Pepper's determined to leave Love Street, and when she goes, she just might take his heart with her . . .
Give me a Lia Riley book all day any day! I love a romance set in a small town. I love the noisy neighbors, I adore the way every one is connected in one way shape or form, and I feel the friendship that stems from it all.
It Happened on Love Street is all that and more. A sweet, sexy small town romance with a whole lotta heart.
"Here's an idea." He nudged his finger on hers. "Say we—and this is purely hypothetically—enjoyed the . . . ahem . . .pleasure of each other's company in the privacy of ourhomes."
"Hypothetically, kept it casual and under the radar?"
She nudged back. "When I leave, there's no heartbreak, no drama, and no one is the wiser."
"Interesting theory?" He reached out, his hand splaying her knee. "Or recipe for disaster?"
Tingles shot up her thigh. His skin was warm, those fingers very big and very male. "I have enough to worry about with my future. If you don't need me for more than a little here and now? I might be persuaded. Hypothetically."
He moved his hand from her knee to the back of her neck. The touch melted her faster than an ice cube in the July sun.
"What are you thinking?" she murmured.
His deep blue gaze locked on hers and there it came again, that curious sensation of floating and drowning. "That I'd like to hypothetically kiss you."
There was a sudden roaring in her ears, a whoosh of blood. "Well, there's only one way to test a hypothesis."
Slowly, oh so slowly, he dipped forward. His lips didn't settle on hers like she expected. Instead, he kissed the center of her forehead, softly, experimentally. A tremble rocked through him.
The evening air was sultry, no a hint of chill. The idea that she shook this steadfast man sent a shiver of need through the join of her thighs, a throbbing shudder that swelled to an ache as he peppered a light trail of kisses down her temple, and then moved lower. He took his sweet time on her cheeks, treating her as something to savor, a delicious dessert you didn't want to wolf in one bite. Tension spread through her body, pulling tighter and tighter, her belly doing a fluttery dips and dives.
When he finally reached her lips, it seemed reasonable to expect that the kiss would be as soft as the others. Silly. Because Rhett was full of surprises. He didn't hold back, his tongue was greedy, insistent, and hungry. Their teeth banged together. A chair tipped over. They crashed against a table leg, sent it screeching across the floor.
"In theory, you're a good kisser," she gasped, tracing her lower lip with her tongue. The skin was puffy, aching.
"Let me experiment a bit more. The initial results are promising."
Lia Riley is a contemporary romance author. USA Today describes her as "refreshing" and RT Book Reviews calls her books "sizzling and heartfelt." She loves her husband, three kids, wandering redwood forests and a perfect pour over coffee. She is 25% sarcastic, 54% optimistic, and 122% bad at math (good thing she writes happy endings for a living). She and her family live mostly in Northern California.


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My name is Shay Weber and I am the Owner/Photographer of A Perfect Picture by Shay. I started my business in 2009 and it has been growing rapidly ever since!
Since I can remember, I have always loved taking pictures. This passion has only grown stronger since becoming the mother of three wonderful boys.
Photographs of special moments create memories for you to treasure for a lifetime!


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|New COCOCOZY embroidered pillows in shades of blue! (above)
I am so thrilled to introduce you to our latest COCOCOZY partnership – a line of 20 fantastic embroidered pillows! COCOCOZY for Peking Handicraft pillows debut this week at market in Atlanta! Wooohooo. Yippeee! Yay!!!!
Peking Handicraft makes renowned designer Trina Turk's collection of oh so popular embroidered pillows and now they are making COCOCOZY's!
These COCOCOZY embroidered pillows will start shipping to retailers this month and hopefully will be available to you in a store or online by August! The 20 embroidered pillows come in a variety of colorways including navy, light blue, sage, turquoise, red, orange, yellow, black and gray. We did 6 different patterns!
This week marks the beginning of the summer Atlanta International Home Furnishings Market and COCOCOZY is all over market this year! For those of you who do not know what "market" is…essentially it is a trade show for home furnishings. Every July and also January, Atlanta's America's Mart becomes the destination for all things to do with furniture, textiles, bedding and home accessories. The market is officially only open to press, designers, and stores (major retailers, boutiques and more)…it is the time of year when stores do all of their buying of product and stock for the fall winter.
All of our different COCOCOZY home furnishings collections will also be on display in different showrooms in Atlanta this week! So exciting. I'll be running around market from showroom to showroom, seeing all of the different COCOCOZY goodies on full display.
COCOCOZY collaborations/partnerships are all showing in Atlanta at market in the same building (240 Peachtree Street, Atlanta, GA):
- COCOCOZY for Capel Rugs (Indo Tibetan hand knotted woold rugs) – Capel Rugs Showroom, Americas Mart Building 1 6th floor
- COCOCOZY Linens for Downtown (bedding) – Christian Mosso Associates (CMA Showroom), Americas Mart Building 1 9th floor
- COCOCOZY for Peking Handicraft (embroidered pillows) – Peking Handicraft Showroom, Building 1 Amercas Mart 10th floor
In Atlanta at the Americas Mart building, we are also showing our own COCOCOZY Collection of luxury custom made pillows, graphic cotton knit reversible throws, lucite trays, candles and lacquer boxes at the Christian Mosso Showroom in Building 1 on the 9th floor. I'll be there Friday and Saturday!!!
I really love the black on natural linen and the taupe/tan collections below. I think they would look great mixed and matched on almost any color living room sofa! Graphic neutrals.
|New COCOCOZY Embroidered Pillows in red! (above)
|This Maroc embroidered pillow in navy blue is one of my faves from the embroidered collection. (above)
|COCOCOZY Embroidered Pillows in taupe and black (above)
Please make sure to stop by and see the collections at market if you are going to be in Atlanta. I'll be buzzing about on Friday and Saturday! I would love to say hi!
Happy Thursday!
P.S. MY "DREAM SMALL" GUEST POST ON INTERIOR COLLECTIVE – Please head over to Interior Collective blog to check out my guest post on designing small spaces. I share some key tips on how to decorate a small space effectively. I really love the kitchen featured in the piece and my favorite tip might help you figure out your living room design! Browse on over to read my secrets to small space decorating! Would love to hear your secrets too!
P.P.S. I take the red eye out to Atlanta tonight…don't have a thing packed and got no sleep last night (up until 3:30a this morning)! Oy va voy.
P.P.P.S. Oh…I know some might be wondering how the collaboration with Peking came about! I've known about Peking Handicraft for years (they also manufacture my design crush designer Jonathan Adler's needlepoint pillows). Last year at market in Atlanta, one half hour before I was heading to the airport to leave town, I basically walked into their showroom with my COCOCOZY catalog in hand and said I would like to do a license deal with them and have them make and distribute COCOCOZY embroidered pillows to retailers around the country. I know they were a bit taken aback by my brazen approach but about 4 months later we were signing a license deal! Tah dah! Now, here we are…!!!
P.P.P.P.S. Can one function on just 6-7 hours of sleep over the course of 2 days? Help!
P.P.P.P.P.S. COCOCOZY VP of Operations CM is already in Atlanta. He'll be over at the Christian Mosso Showroom in AmericasMart Building 1, 9th floor…showing off our new lucite trays and a new offering we have for our throw collection! Please go by and see him if you can today!


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Solve for N+.
In its original incarnation, N was a deceptively simple little Flash game: move left, move right, and jump! Little nimble ninja characters that were scarcely more than stick-figures. Your choice of black, white, with specks of red and yellow for graphics. Bonus ninja-worthy injuries, as a result of banging your head against the nearest wall at the frustratingly-compelling, addictive gameplay.
[image1]The modestly-named N+ is exactly what it sounds like: N, but more of it—not straying far from the original, not futzing too much with the formula, not fixin' what ain't broke. You run your little guys around various straightforward, amusingly-creative or just flat-out crazy labyrinthine levels, via a surprisingly responsive physics engine—it even takes a second to reverse direction when you're running. You collect gold to extend your life-span, pounce on switches to open doors and reach the exit, wall-jump to reach tucked-away rewards or to avoid threats like mines, ninja-seeking missiles, and even the old-reliable, workaday threat of plummeting to your death.
Among the enhancements for N+ are a slightly less user-hostile system for accessing new levels, the option of playing the game with its newer, snazzier visuals (or with the classic Flash-based graphics), and most of all, a superb editor that lets players create their own levels and—on the PSP version, anyway—upload them to a server for other players to pull down, play and rate.
One nifty exclusive to the player-created levels—the developers wanted the main game to remain as true to the original game as possible—is a new environmental feature called the Inertia Field, which temporarily alters gravity within its effect radius.
[image2]N+ will also evidently feature special unlockables, the so-called Atari Bonuses—which, as yet, nobody seems to know how to earn (whatever the method is, merely collecting massive amounts of gold ain't it). Adding to the mystery is the complete, well, mystery of precisely what the Atari Bonus actually is. As the game comes closer to launch, Atari promises there will be hints floating around out there for the determined.
N+ will also offer at least four multiplayer modes—Co-op, Tag, Race and Blitz. Players can create levels for each particular mode, and they can also "Playlist" levels—that is, link groups of preselected levels together to create an uninterrupted run, obviating the need to come back out to the menu screen. N+ for the handhelds will only fuel the long-running, completely-pointless feud between ninjas and pirates when it launches later this year. (Thou shall end this feud now. ~Ed.)


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Written by Sarah
Yesterday it was announced that Zack Snyder (300, Legend of the Helmet-Wearing Owls and the upcoming Sucker Punch) will direct the Superman reboot that Christopher Nolan is producing for Legendary Films/Warner Brothers, with the working title The Man of Steel. Details are thin about the project--Snyder's hire is the first piece of concrete news since Nolan signed on to produce a few months ago.
Well now that the director is hired, let's get to the important stuff--who should play Superman? Actually, this is the wrong question. It should be--who should play Clark Kent? Because Superman is boring. Really really boring. He's such a boy scout. Superman never does anything wrong. He can't be bought, bribed, or compromised. He doesn't have a conflicted alter ego like Batman. He doesn't mouth back, like Gambit or Deadpool, he doesn't go berserk, like Wolverine. On the list of boring superheroes, Superman is number one (Captain America and The Hulk are the other two). So forget casting Superman. He sucks. A cardboard cutout would do just as well as anyone. Instead I hope they focus on Clark Kent, the human face of Superman.
Clark Kent isn't a real alter ego in the sense that there is no difference in how Clark or Superman behave or will react in any situation. Where Batman will do things Bruce Wayne never could, there is nothing Superman would do that Clark wouldn't also do. He only uses the Clark Kent mask because he fears his enemies using his friends and family against him. But therein lies the key to creating an interesting character. Unlike Batman, who is made up of gadgets and ninja moves, Clark can't "shut off" Superman. I want to see a man who struggles with managing his super strength day-to-day, who sometimes sees things he shouldn't because he has X-Ray vision, and who is actually an alien--wouldn't that give him a different psyche? I'd be interested to see a Clark who struggles to understand human interaction because his mind works in a fundamentally different way than humans do.
This may be asking too much, though, so I hope they cast someone who will make me interested in this boring guy. Of course the clamor for Jon Hamm has already begun, but I don't see it. Captain America or Bruce Banner I totally could have bought, but I can't quite make Jon Hamm = Superman in my mind. Other obvious names that occur to me are Jake Gyllenhaal and Taylor Kitsch--Jake G has the right coloring but I think Kitsch would be the more interesting choice between the two. He's the less-expected option and if there's any hope of making Superman interesting it lies in going off the beaten path with the casting choice.
Another name that comes to mind is Matt Bomer (White Collar). He has the coloring and he's charismatic and fun to watch. He's wee but wardrobe and camera trickery can make up for that. TV guy fans are already promoting is Nathan Fillion but he has way too much charm for Superman. I can't imagine Fillion keeping a lid on his ability to deliver a wisecrack and remain engaging. Zachary Quinto is bound to get fanboy support, too. He definitely has the looks and he could completely pull off that weird not-human vibe that might give some oomph to Clark Kent.
But if Snyder really wants to do something fresh he needs to get way, way outside the box. So….
How about Daniel Radcliffe? He has the coloring, he's demonstrated an ability and willingness to get buff, and he's got that camp edge that would help him pull off a blue unitard and red briefs. We know he can do that "do right whatever the circumstances" thing but Radcliffe has an as-yet unused ability to be weird and offbeat. He could combine Superman's boyscout routine with a slightly left of center Clark Kent. A nice guy, a handsome guy, but a guy that's just…not quite normal.
Like I said – it's an unorthodox, out-box choice. But that's better than the same old. We can yell about this later today during the LiveBlog.
Daniel Radcliffe for Clark Kent. Make it happen.
Written by Sarah
Photos from Wenn.com
Casting Roulette: Superman edition
Written by Sarah


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Source: Link
HENRY, WILLIAM ALEXANDER, lawyer, politician, and judge; b. 30 Dec. 1816 at Halifax, N.S., son of Robert Nesbit Henry, an Irish-born merchant, and Margaret Forrestall, née Hendricken; m. first in 1841 Sophia Caroline McDonald, who died in 1845, leaving an infant son; m. secondly in 1850 Christianna McDonald, and they had 7 children; d. 3 May 1888 at Ottawa, Ont.
William Alexander Henry's father moved from Halifax to Antigonish, N.S., following the War of 1812 to operate a timber business and store. He was taught there by the Reverend Thomas Trotter*. During the late 1830s he studied law with Alexander McDougall, and he was admitted to the bar as attorney in 1840 and barrister in 1841. Henry was active in politics and in the 1840 election successfully opposed McDougall to gain election as the representative of Sydney (Antigonish) County in the assembly, thus entering the house at a time when the council of Lieutenant Governor Lord Falkland [Cary], led by James William Johnston* and Joseph Howe*, was making a strained attempt at coalition government. In the assembly Henry was described as an opportunist, a dull and prosy speaker who delivered a speech like "a tired boy turning a grindstone." He was, however, personally popular, "a great mixer," admired as a sportsman, and noted for looking after the interests of his constituents.
Henry was defeated in 1843, after the collapse of the coalition, but was re-elected in 1847 when he supported the Reformers' call for responsible government. The Reformers had a margin of seven seats in the new assembly, and on 26 Jan. 1848 Henry seconded the non-confidence motion of James Boyle Uniacke* which forced Johnston's resignation and the formation of the first responsible government under Uniacke and Howe. Re-elected in 1851, Henry became minister without portfolio in April 1852 at a time when prominent Liberals such as Thomas Killam* were criticizing the government for endorsing Howe's scheme for a publicly financed railway from Halifax to Windsor, N.S. When in April 1854 William Young replaced Uniacke as leader of the Liberal government, he chose Henry to succeed Alexander McDougall as solicitor general.
In August 1856 Henry switched portfolios to become provincial secretary, but on 9 Feb. 1857 he resigned from the government, explaining that he could not accept his colleagues' dismissal of William Condon from his position as gauger for the port of Halifax. Condon, a Roman Catholic and president of the Charitable Irish Society, had publicly disclosed Joseph Howe's illegal campaign to recruit Americans for the British army in the Crimea: Condon had also taken part in a Halifax public meeting at which Howe and others thought disloyal statements had been made, and he had become involved in a newspaper controversy in which he went beyond the conduct suitable for a civil servant. The Condon–Howe affair took place during a period of bitter feeling in Nova Scotia between Roman Catholics and Protestants, and led to massive defections from the Liberal party by Catholics. Henry, a Presbyterian with Catholic relatives, represented a predominantly Catholic constituency and claimed in the assembly that Condon's dismissal was persecution on religious grounds.
Ten days after Henry resigned from the cabinet, Young's government was defeated in a Conservative non-confidence motion supported by all the Roman Catholic members and two Protestant Liberals, John Chipman Wade and Henry. His switch from Liberal to Conservative did not affect Henry's popularity; he was re-elected in May 1859, a month after joining Johnston's government as solicitor general. Although the Liberals gained a majority in the 1859 election, the Conservatives did not resign because Johnston and Henry maintained that some Liberals elected were legally disqualified from taking their seats. The British law officers did not agree, and on 7 Feb. 1860 the Johnston government yielded to the Liberals. When the Conservatives were returned to power in 1863 Henry again became solicitor general and on 11 May 1864 attorney general in the government of Charles Tupper*, who had succeeded Johnston as Conservative leader. Henry strongly supported Tupper's free school legislation in 1864 and 1865 and opposed Isaac LeVesconte*'s efforts to have Roman Catholic separate schools established in law, believing with Tupper that Catholic representation on the Board of Public Instruction, as constituted by the cabinet, would protect Catholic interests.
There is no evidence that Henry was interested in the union of British North America before the Charlottetown conference in September 1864, which he attended as attorney general of Nova Scotia. Also a delegate to the Quebec conference the following month, he took an active part in its deliberations as well as in its social activities. He was a supporter of broad and unspecified federal powers and specific, limited fields of jurisdiction for the provincial legislatures, with a supreme court to decide questions of jurisdictional competence. He reiterated his belief that the people of Nova Scotia would benefit commercially from union, especially after his journey to Washington in 1866 as one of the British North American delegates who attempted unsuccessfully to persuade the Americans not to abrogate the Reciprocity Treaty of 1854. Henry also emphasized the necessity to unite for defence and to complete the Intercolonial Railway between Halifax and Quebec. His campaign in support of confederation was pursued in the face of the mounting opposition to the Quebec scheme nurtured by Howe and William Annand.
Henry was a delegate to the London conference in December 1866 at which the form of confederation was finalized, and was one of the attorneys general who helped frame the language of the British North America Act. Here may lie the source of the unproved tradition that he drafted the BNA Act. The Nova Scotia delegates in London voted to accept the Quebec Resolutions, but Henry objected to the limitation on the number of Senate seats, fearing that its members could thereby frustrate popular measures with impunity. He also supported Archbishop Thomas Louis Connolly*'s unsuccessful efforts to have the existence of Roman Catholic separate schools in Nova Scotia entrenched in the BNA Act; the separate schools of the religious minorities in Ontario and Quebec were guaranteed in the act. In the federal election of 18 Sept. 1867, when only one pro-confederate mp was elected in Nova Scotia, Henry was defeated in Antigonish County by Hugh McDonald, one of his former law students and a leading anti-confederate. After this loss, his first in 24 years, and another defeat in a federal by-election in Richmond in April 1869, Henry returned to the practice of law at which he was highly skilled. In 1870 he was elected mayor of Halifax and in 1873–74 president of the Charitable Irish Society.
Although nominally a Conservative, Henry felt more affinity for the federal Liberal party led by Alexander Mackenzie* than he did for the Liberal-Conservative party of Sir John A. Macdonald*. His estrangement from Macdonald, who had rewarded other pro-confederate leaders with appointments to the Senate or the bench, was coupled with the distance he maintained between himself and the anti-confederate government of William Annand in Nova Scotia. In 1873, when he was again defeated in a by-election in Antigonish, Henry switched his party allegiance from the Conservatives to the Liberals, ostensibly because of Conservative involvement in the Pacific Scandal, but in fact because he deeply resented the recent appointment of his rival Hugh McDonald as a county court judge. In October 1875, two years after the federal Liberals had come to power, the minister of justice, Edward Blake*, appointed Henry one of the judges of the newly created Supreme Court of Canada. It was felt that Henry, as one of the fathers of confederation, knew the intentions of the framers of the BNA Act, especially with respect to the division of powers between the federal and provincial legislatures.
In its first decade the Supreme Court, under Chief Justice William Buell Richards, was plagued by serious problems concerning its credibility and importance. Blake's wish that appeals to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council should end was not politically acceptable to the Conservative party or to the British government, both of which wanted to maintain an imperial link by permitting such appeals. The Supreme Court was often bypassed when appeals were made directly from the courts of last resort in the provinces to the JCPC, and the Supreme Court's decisions were frequently overturned by the English law lords. In parliament the court was subjected to many criticisms of its procedures. Henry diligently attended court, frequently dissented from the opinions of his fellow justices, and often had his judgements upheld by the JCPC. But Sir Robert Laird Borden* was to describe him as an "able" rather than a "great student," and in 1880 fellow justices John Wellington Gwynne* and Samuel Henry Strong* complained to Sir John A. Macdonald that Henry's judgements were "long, windy, incoherent masses of verbiage, interspersed with ungrammatical expressions, slang and the veriest legal platitudes inappropriately applied." Henry continued to serve until his death in 1888, and contributed to the administrative reforms which led to greater respect and utility for the Supreme Court. His 13 years on the bench were, however, overshadowed by his more than 20 years of political activity in his native province; an obituary described him and Tupper as the men who had led Nova Scotia "by the nose into Confederation."
AO, MU 159–62. PANS, MS file, William Alexander Henry, Commissions, 1854–75; Doc., 1848, 1851; MG 9, no.102; RG 1, 200: 3 April 1852, 4 April 1854, 14 Aug. 1856, 24 Feb. 1857, 15 April 1859; 201: 11 June 1863; 202: 11 May 1864; 262: ff.2, 7–21; RG 7, 36–37. Documents on the confederation of British North America: a compilation based on Sir Joseph Pope's confederation documents supplemented by other official material, ed. G. P. Browne (Toronto and Montreal, 1969). N.S., House of Assembly, Debates and proc., 1855–61, 1864–67; Journal and proc., 1840–67. Casket (Antigonish, N.S.), 1857–58; 1864–65; 31 Oct. 1935; 9 Jan., 20 Feb. 1936. Morning Chronicle (Halifax), 5 Jan. 1876; 4, 7 May 1888; 16 Feb. 1900. Morning Herald (Halifax), 4, 7 May 1888. John Doull, Sketches of attorney generals of Nova Scotia, 1750–1926 (Halifax, 1964), 70–74. The courts and the Canadian constitution: a selection of essays, ed. W. R. Lederman (Toronto, 1964). Leading constitutional decisions; cases on the British North America Act, ed. P. H. Russell (Toronto, 1965). G. [G.] Patterson, Studies in Nova Scotian history (Halifax, 1940); More studies in Nova Scotian history (Halifax, 1941). D. G. Whidden, The history of the town of Antigonish (Wolfville, N.S., 1934), 89–90, 102–5. P. R. Blakeley, "William Alexander Henry, a father of confederation from Nova Scotia," N.S. Hist. Soc., Coll., 36 (1968): 96–140. J. B. Brebner, "Joseph Howe and the Crimean War enlistment controversy between Great Britain and the United States," CHR, 11 (1930), 300–27.
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Phyllis R. Blakeley, "HENRY, WILLIAM ALEXANDER," in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 11, University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003–, accessed October 2, 2023, http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/henry_william_alexander_11E.html.
The citation above shows the format for footnotes and endnotes according to the Chicago manual of style (16th edition). Information to be used in other citation formats:
|Author of Article:
|Phyllis R. Blakeley
|Title of Article:
|Publication Name:
|Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 11
|University of Toronto/Université Laval
|Year of publication:
|Year of revision:
|Access Date:
|October 2, 2023