The timing for the month of february is all wrong okay? I just completed transcribing everything onto this blog so now they are all stuck in the month of february, and I can't be bothered to shift them. So my 2 year's ago easter post is in feb 2008! lol. I'm sorry about that.
But from now on it should be posted according to the date I write. ;)
Tuesday 26 February 2008
A Wife's Duty
“May I please have your advice?” pleaded a young wife and mother, after she had given Rita a full account of all her troubles. Rita smiled and replied,
“My dear girl, there was once a time, when I was in a similar situation. I was full of worries and burdens that I didn’t want. I wanted to be free, to have my time, and to do what I wanted to do. But in the end, it didn’t work because I was loaded with responsibility. I had to take care of my Husband and 3 children -cooking for them, cleaning after them, watching them, besides keeping the house. I didn’t have time to do anything I enjoyed because I grew exhausted after that. And then, I couldn’t take it anymore, I ran away to my mother’s house. After pouring out the whole story, she gave me a piece of advice for which I am and will be eternally grateful. It has helped me so much that that I can now say, that my life was changed for the better thereafter.”
At these words, the young mother’s face brightened, and she eagerly exclaimed,
“What? What is this counsel that has helped you so much? Pray, tell me, tell me what your mother said.”
Rita sank back into chair, and closed her eyes. The scene came back all too clear, both of them in front of the fire, with her mother reclining on the easy rocking chair, and she, herself on the stool, at her mother’s feet. Rita sighed, and began softly, while the mother listened, absorbed ……
‘“In order to have a successful marriage, dear Rita, both husband and wife have to yield the right to hobbies. The husband has to yield his hobbies if it is an intrusion on more important priorities. The Scriptural command for the husband to yield this right is found in Ephesians 5:25.
“Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;” Ephesians 5:25
The husband is to lay down his life for his wife in the same way that Christ laid down His life for the Church –His Bride.
But the wife also has a charge. She is to yield her rights to hobbies, or anything that would interfere with responsibility stated in Titus 2.
“The aged women likewise, that [they be] in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, [To be] discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.” Titus 2:3-5
This is an example given of a godly woman. She is wise. She is discreet and chaste. She cares. She is also obedient to her husband. Her responsibility is to be the managers of the home, that God’s Word would not be blasphemed.
Now, if and hobby becomes a consuming focus, requires too much time, effort, money, loyalty, and distracts a spouse from his of her responsibility, it should be put aside, in view of completing the more important priorities.”’
Rita ended her recital there, but the words did not stop there. It hung in the thickening air. For a moment, there was complete silence; both the ladies were in deep reverie. Suddenly, the clock was heard chiming 5 o’clock. It broke the silence, and brought the 2 ladies back into reality. Rita was the first to recover, and she could see the effect her mother’s words had on the girl. Tears were coursing down her face, as the young mother penitently acknowledged, “Oh, I have been so careless in the responsibility that God has given to me. I have loved my own liberty too much, and have not yielded my rights. It is truly my own fault that I have suffered so much misery.” Then, with a glance at her fashionable outfit, she said with a tone of determination and resolution, “God give me the grace, I shall give up my vanity. I shall endeavour to be like the woman in Titus 2:3-5, and I haven’t reached that goal yet, before God calls me home, I shall die attempting it.” With a voice full of gratitude, she turned to Rita and said, “How can I ever thank you mother, (for mother I shall now call you, since I lost my own when I was little) for sharing with me those words which have pointed me in the right way?” She gathered the old wrinkled hands in her own, and said, “I have to go soon if I am to keep my resolution, for it’s five o’ clock, and my husband will be back in an hour’s time. But before I go, let me ask you for the remainder of your story.”
“Dear daughter of my heart, there is not much left to tell, but that I went back home a changed woman. From that day on, I purposed to be that woman in Titus 2:3-5 (caring, wise, discreet, and a good manager of the house, that God’s Word be not blasphemed,” replied Rita.
“And so you have been, and always shall be, I imagine!” declared the ‘daughter’. Rita smiled, but shook her head, and responded,
“I was once young, and a wife and mother, but in time all three gifts of the Lord has either been taken or flown away. I am now old and widowed, and of my 3 sons, 2 fell in battle, while the youngest is happily married in a foreign land, only to visit me irregularly. No, dear girl, I still have much to learn, and so do all of us. But make Titus 2:3-5 your goal, and you shall do well.”
“My dear girl, there was once a time, when I was in a similar situation. I was full of worries and burdens that I didn’t want. I wanted to be free, to have my time, and to do what I wanted to do. But in the end, it didn’t work because I was loaded with responsibility. I had to take care of my Husband and 3 children -cooking for them, cleaning after them, watching them, besides keeping the house. I didn’t have time to do anything I enjoyed because I grew exhausted after that. And then, I couldn’t take it anymore, I ran away to my mother’s house. After pouring out the whole story, she gave me a piece of advice for which I am and will be eternally grateful. It has helped me so much that that I can now say, that my life was changed for the better thereafter.”
At these words, the young mother’s face brightened, and she eagerly exclaimed,
“What? What is this counsel that has helped you so much? Pray, tell me, tell me what your mother said.”
Rita sank back into chair, and closed her eyes. The scene came back all too clear, both of them in front of the fire, with her mother reclining on the easy rocking chair, and she, herself on the stool, at her mother’s feet. Rita sighed, and began softly, while the mother listened, absorbed ……
‘“In order to have a successful marriage, dear Rita, both husband and wife have to yield the right to hobbies. The husband has to yield his hobbies if it is an intrusion on more important priorities. The Scriptural command for the husband to yield this right is found in Ephesians 5:25.
“Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;” Ephesians 5:25
The husband is to lay down his life for his wife in the same way that Christ laid down His life for the Church –His Bride.
But the wife also has a charge. She is to yield her rights to hobbies, or anything that would interfere with responsibility stated in Titus 2.
“The aged women likewise, that [they be] in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, [To be] discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.” Titus 2:3-5
This is an example given of a godly woman. She is wise. She is discreet and chaste. She cares. She is also obedient to her husband. Her responsibility is to be the managers of the home, that God’s Word would not be blasphemed.
Now, if and hobby becomes a consuming focus, requires too much time, effort, money, loyalty, and distracts a spouse from his of her responsibility, it should be put aside, in view of completing the more important priorities.”’
Rita ended her recital there, but the words did not stop there. It hung in the thickening air. For a moment, there was complete silence; both the ladies were in deep reverie. Suddenly, the clock was heard chiming 5 o’clock. It broke the silence, and brought the 2 ladies back into reality. Rita was the first to recover, and she could see the effect her mother’s words had on the girl. Tears were coursing down her face, as the young mother penitently acknowledged, “Oh, I have been so careless in the responsibility that God has given to me. I have loved my own liberty too much, and have not yielded my rights. It is truly my own fault that I have suffered so much misery.” Then, with a glance at her fashionable outfit, she said with a tone of determination and resolution, “God give me the grace, I shall give up my vanity. I shall endeavour to be like the woman in Titus 2:3-5, and I haven’t reached that goal yet, before God calls me home, I shall die attempting it.” With a voice full of gratitude, she turned to Rita and said, “How can I ever thank you mother, (for mother I shall now call you, since I lost my own when I was little) for sharing with me those words which have pointed me in the right way?” She gathered the old wrinkled hands in her own, and said, “I have to go soon if I am to keep my resolution, for it’s five o’ clock, and my husband will be back in an hour’s time. But before I go, let me ask you for the remainder of your story.”
“Dear daughter of my heart, there is not much left to tell, but that I went back home a changed woman. From that day on, I purposed to be that woman in Titus 2:3-5 (caring, wise, discreet, and a good manager of the house, that God’s Word be not blasphemed,” replied Rita.
“And so you have been, and always shall be, I imagine!” declared the ‘daughter’. Rita smiled, but shook her head, and responded,
“I was once young, and a wife and mother, but in time all three gifts of the Lord has either been taken or flown away. I am now old and widowed, and of my 3 sons, 2 fell in battle, while the youngest is happily married in a foreign land, only to visit me irregularly. No, dear girl, I still have much to learn, and so do all of us. But make Titus 2:3-5 your goal, and you shall do well.”
Obedience= A shave off the rocky coast of Tasmania
Obedience= A Close Shave
On a rocky coast off Tasmania in Bass Strait, the pup waited eagerly for the return of its mother. It was playing with several other pups in the shallow water nearby. Happily splashing and squealing in play, it did not notice the sudden commotion amongst the elders of its colony. Mothers beckoned to their young in anxiety. Hearing his mother call, the pup responded and left. The others, reluctant to leave their sport, wilfully continued to play, refusing to heed the call of their parents. In their enthusiasm, the pups which ignored their mother’s call, failed to notice a 15 foot White Pointer heading in their direction. When they did, it was too late. Safe on the rocky outcrop, by the side of his mother, the pup watched in horror as the enormous shark lunged from beneath and ripped open the soft bellies of his fellow playmates, turning the sea crimson.
For the fur seal pup, instant obedience means life and death. For them, failure to respond to the call of its mother may result in death. Because it is so important, the mother teaches its pup instant obedience from the early days of its life. Since the pup is necessarily left alone for a short period of time while to mother hunts for food, it must learn to stay within the safe zones of the Island and not wander off by its self.
Several months before this incident, the pup had been exploring the Island together with his mother, learning how to catch his own meal. He had spent a long time searching for food, and had not found anything yet. He was getting hungry. Nuzzling at the rocky bottom of the sea bed, he disclosed a white transparent material which looked much like the squid which his mother often brought to him. Delighted at his find, he was just going to swallow it whole when a sharp call from his mother stopped him. Swimming over, his mother gently flicked at the white squid with her tail. The act tossed it up, revealing a plastic bag, carelessly thrown into the water by a negligent human. If the pup had ignored the command of his mother, and swallowed the plastic bag thinking it was a squid, he would have died of suffocation.
SWISH! The pup turned around to where his mother had been a moment ago to find her gone! He looked up in confusion to find the mother chasing a school of mackerel. Excited and ready to help, he swam up, pursuing the fish, while keeping his eyes on his mother. While he knew he didn’t have to help, he went the extra mile by assisting his mother.
For the fur seal pup, obedience meant going the extra mile whenever it could. The pup could simply have waited for the food brought to him! But he willingly went the extra mile to help his mother procure the day’s meal.
She was just about to grab a fish when she made a sharp turn to the right and fled. Puzzled by his mother’s sudden flee, he nevertheless obeyed the silent command, knowing that it was expected of him to follow. Didn’t his mother know that he hadn’t eaten anything yet? He was hungry, and he had been just about to catch his first meal! But the pup didn’t complain. Instead, he followed his mother as she weaved her way around the coral, keeping to the shadowy area as she made her way back to the Island. At one point, a massive shadow appeared above them. It was an orca, commonly known as the killer whale. It was searching for food, and the school of mackerel had attracted it, just as it had attracted the pup and its mother. The pup finally understood. His mother had known! She had sensed trouble coming, and had saved both of their lives. Immediate action had to be taken, and it left no time for explanation.
You see, for the fur seal pup, obedience meant doing what was expected of it, without being told. There wasn’t time for explanations. A fur seal pup has to trust its mother and obey it, even though it didn’t understand the actions of its parent.
Tired and hungry, the 2 seals swam up the shore and returned home. Although he had spent the whole day searching for food, and hadn’t found any, the pup did not complain. He was glad to be safe and alive, and he expressed his contentment by crawling to his mother’s side and nestling her, thanking her by barking a series of “oinks”. OINK! OINK! OINK! For him, even though there was no fish or squid that day, there was always the warm milk of his mother to feed him. He was content to be satisfied with that.
The pup demonstrated obedience by having a cheerful attitude despite his weariness and hunger. He did not complain, but thanked his mother instead for saving his life and for teaching him how to fish.
Cabin Boy (part 1)
Chapter 1
Captain Harry Stowe strolled along the harbour surveying the landscape with more than his usual exuberant step. Workmen clamoured to be heard above the din of the harbour side, always busy with fresh cargo to be exported, as well as exotic spices to be hauled away. The marketing stalls at the side produced an intensity of noise no less than the workmen. The stall owners could be heard bartering their goods, usually those provided by the ocean, with the women folk of the nearby village, who held ever penny they had with a tight fist. At the price agreed, they carefully counted the coins and handed them over, with a slight smile at their expertise of procuring their day’s meal at a good bargain. Whereupon on the leave of the ladies, the stall owner would dance a little jig for joy at his superior business abilities, having gotten more than what he had hoped for. It was not a bad scene, since both parties were satisfied with the outcome.
Captain Stowe had a particular gait uncommon among the men of his class. Merchants and workmen need only to hear the vigorous and purposeful stride along the wharf before lifting their heads in greeting to the indefatigable Captain. Yes, Captain Stowe was respected all along the harbour and surrounding villages for an honest and upright name. Those who knew him testified of his uprightness and generosity. While it was true that he demanded much from everyone- including himself, Captain Stowe, always the first at a troubled scene, ready to lend a spacious hand to those less fortunate than he, established his good name by compassion. His deep blue eyes were often found twinkling in amusement at the delight of the village children who had just received a penny from ‘the fun man’; his home often the sanctuary of the sick or injured, and his energies drained frequently in search of jobs for the unemployed. Having established his character, let us move on to his uncommon cause of gaiety today.
The object of Captain Stowe’s excessive animation became apparent as he hurried down the steps and paused along the footpath. Out in the distance, half blanketed by the light mist lay a beautiful little steamer which gleamed in the morning light. Freshly painted and refurbished, the gay vessel fairly sparkled. The Captain was astonished at the change worked in so few days. It was bought from an old skipper, who was wroth to part with his treasure. Only with the extraction of a promise to cherish the craft all its days would the skipper begin to consider selling it. Already, the Captain found it no hard task to keep his promise. The name ‘Lady Mabel’ beckoned to the Captain. Quickening his steps, the Captain closed the distance between the boat and him.
A shout of, “Captain’s here!”, greeted him as he appeared on the gangway.
“How’s it all going, my lads?” inquired the Captain cheerily of his crew.
“Fine, sir,” replied the foreman, with the others nodding their heads in unison. It was then that the Captain noticed a youth slouching by the deck.
“Why, what have we here? A boy! Perhaps the son of one of you lads?”
“No, Captain. This here lad came early this mornin’ skulking ‘round here. Asked ‘im what ‘e wanted, and all I’s got is he wants to see the Capt’n.” responded the foreman with facial grimaces comical to see, as he smiled at the boy.
“Yes, boy, what can I do for you, son?” asked the Captain, motioning with his hand to signal to the lad to come forward.
A most unprepossessing boy appeared, with his dirty shock of red hair, grimy fingers and rags for clothes. Moreover, the black eyes glared defiance at the Captain was enough to put off anyone. Anyone, that is, except the Captain. What others detested in the boy only served heighten the sympathy of the Captain. He took of his coat and wrapped it around the shivering boy. Placing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, he prompted again,
“Well?”
“I want a job,” mumbled the youth sulkily. “And I don’t need this” said the ungrateful boy as he shook off the kind arm around his shoulders and returned the coat. “I’m tougher ‘an you all,” he sneered.
“Well, boy- by the way- you haven’t given me your name.”
“Jim Stebbler.”
Memories struggled to rise in the Captain’s mind. Jim Stebbler? Wasn’t he the thieving lout by the alleyway, the scum of the village, and the partaker of the worst possible company? He had never worked before, so why now? Was he up to more mischief? Jim saw the hesitancy in the Captain’s expressive face. Laughing loudly, in a tone which brooked ill for everyone there, he retaliated,
“You’re too good for Jim Stebbler, are ya?” Well, well, we’ll see. Me who’s always a-thievin’ in the alley and want honest work fer a change; me who’s avoided by everyone cause I stink, and as likely ter nick a few coins for a living; me who’s got no friends ter talk to, so that I welcome any who’d talk to a fella like me- yes, I’m too dirty for the likes of you!” He spat on the floor.
“Jim!”
He had turned away and was shuffling off when the Captain called his name. Reluctantly, he came back. The Captain thought long and hard. Everyone waited in silence and anticipation at the Captain for his decision. The all thought that the boy’s words had stung the pride of the Captain, and anxious to prove his justice and generosity, would be forced to accept the demands of the boy. But the truth couldn’t be further from that. In fact, he was thinking of his own past some years back, not unlike the sad spectacle before him, going his own way without father or mother, until a kind benefactor picked him up, and pointed him in the heavenly direction which made him into the man he was today. The remembrance stirred him. He had to do something for the lad, something to help him on his way. But what? Offer him a job aboard the ship, a brand new vessel, and his pride and joy? Slowly, the Captain’s furrowed brows smoothed out, and his clouded eyes cleared. Selfless blue eyes met defiant black eyes before he spoke.
“Jim, I offer you the position of cabin boy on my ship. Your duties would be to wait on me, help the cook serve the dishes and wait on others at the table, and tidy the deck every day. Also, your tasks will include scrubbing the cabins, toilets and bunk rooms every day. You may also have the position of valet to me. In return for your service, you will have food and lodging, and be paid a pound a week.”
At this, murmurs ran through the sailors. Cabin boys were never paid this much or even treated this well. Food and lodging coupled with a pound a week in the deal! And to be a valet of the master, why that was an honour to die for!
“Do you understand?” the Captain clarified.
“Yes.”
“Of course, however,” continued the Captain once the boy understood his responsibilities, “there are rules for the crew of my boat that you might as well be told of now. These are formed to ensure the safety and happiness of everyone on the ship. Whoever breaks the rules will be punished accordingly. The first rule is kindness. Kindness to everyone and everything is mandatory. The second is honesty. Every man has his share and no more. No stealing or deceitfulness on board this ship. It will not be tolerated. The third rule is orderliness and punctuality. Everyone on the ship has a schedule, that I expect to be followed so that the ship may be run smoothly. The 4th rule: no swearing or using of God’s name in vain. 5th: Respect for the people of different races and for the property of others. As cabin boy in a ship, you may expect much travelling to foreign lands, and meeting of people with cultures much different from yours. My men must learn to accept that and not mock those, for all are equal creatures in God’s sight. The 6th rule is diligence. Hard work always has its own rewards. The last rule is not a rule in the sense of the word, but an obligation that I expect to be minded. This last is that everyone on board ‘Lady Mabel’ has to drop work at 7pm at to attend the evening service held every day by the chaplain. Are all that I have mentioned clear to you, Jim?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Excellent. I think we would get one well enough. Welcome aboard the ‘Lady Mabel’!!” announced Captain Stowe.
Cheers met the boy as he climbed up the deck. Even though the men had their own doubts and reservation as to the wisdom of the Captain’s decision, they respected the Captain, and were sincerely glad for the boy. They pitied him, and prayed fervently that he too might find the saving power and love of the Lord Jesus Christ which will work a greater change in his life than in any other favourable circumstances put together.
Captain Harry Stowe strolled along the harbour surveying the landscape with more than his usual exuberant step. Workmen clamoured to be heard above the din of the harbour side, always busy with fresh cargo to be exported, as well as exotic spices to be hauled away. The marketing stalls at the side produced an intensity of noise no less than the workmen. The stall owners could be heard bartering their goods, usually those provided by the ocean, with the women folk of the nearby village, who held ever penny they had with a tight fist. At the price agreed, they carefully counted the coins and handed them over, with a slight smile at their expertise of procuring their day’s meal at a good bargain. Whereupon on the leave of the ladies, the stall owner would dance a little jig for joy at his superior business abilities, having gotten more than what he had hoped for. It was not a bad scene, since both parties were satisfied with the outcome.
Captain Stowe had a particular gait uncommon among the men of his class. Merchants and workmen need only to hear the vigorous and purposeful stride along the wharf before lifting their heads in greeting to the indefatigable Captain. Yes, Captain Stowe was respected all along the harbour and surrounding villages for an honest and upright name. Those who knew him testified of his uprightness and generosity. While it was true that he demanded much from everyone- including himself, Captain Stowe, always the first at a troubled scene, ready to lend a spacious hand to those less fortunate than he, established his good name by compassion. His deep blue eyes were often found twinkling in amusement at the delight of the village children who had just received a penny from ‘the fun man’; his home often the sanctuary of the sick or injured, and his energies drained frequently in search of jobs for the unemployed. Having established his character, let us move on to his uncommon cause of gaiety today.
The object of Captain Stowe’s excessive animation became apparent as he hurried down the steps and paused along the footpath. Out in the distance, half blanketed by the light mist lay a beautiful little steamer which gleamed in the morning light. Freshly painted and refurbished, the gay vessel fairly sparkled. The Captain was astonished at the change worked in so few days. It was bought from an old skipper, who was wroth to part with his treasure. Only with the extraction of a promise to cherish the craft all its days would the skipper begin to consider selling it. Already, the Captain found it no hard task to keep his promise. The name ‘Lady Mabel’ beckoned to the Captain. Quickening his steps, the Captain closed the distance between the boat and him.
A shout of, “Captain’s here!”, greeted him as he appeared on the gangway.
“How’s it all going, my lads?” inquired the Captain cheerily of his crew.
“Fine, sir,” replied the foreman, with the others nodding their heads in unison. It was then that the Captain noticed a youth slouching by the deck.
“Why, what have we here? A boy! Perhaps the son of one of you lads?”
“No, Captain. This here lad came early this mornin’ skulking ‘round here. Asked ‘im what ‘e wanted, and all I’s got is he wants to see the Capt’n.” responded the foreman with facial grimaces comical to see, as he smiled at the boy.
“Yes, boy, what can I do for you, son?” asked the Captain, motioning with his hand to signal to the lad to come forward.
A most unprepossessing boy appeared, with his dirty shock of red hair, grimy fingers and rags for clothes. Moreover, the black eyes glared defiance at the Captain was enough to put off anyone. Anyone, that is, except the Captain. What others detested in the boy only served heighten the sympathy of the Captain. He took of his coat and wrapped it around the shivering boy. Placing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, he prompted again,
“Well?”
“I want a job,” mumbled the youth sulkily. “And I don’t need this” said the ungrateful boy as he shook off the kind arm around his shoulders and returned the coat. “I’m tougher ‘an you all,” he sneered.
“Well, boy- by the way- you haven’t given me your name.”
“Jim Stebbler.”
Memories struggled to rise in the Captain’s mind. Jim Stebbler? Wasn’t he the thieving lout by the alleyway, the scum of the village, and the partaker of the worst possible company? He had never worked before, so why now? Was he up to more mischief? Jim saw the hesitancy in the Captain’s expressive face. Laughing loudly, in a tone which brooked ill for everyone there, he retaliated,
“You’re too good for Jim Stebbler, are ya?” Well, well, we’ll see. Me who’s always a-thievin’ in the alley and want honest work fer a change; me who’s avoided by everyone cause I stink, and as likely ter nick a few coins for a living; me who’s got no friends ter talk to, so that I welcome any who’d talk to a fella like me- yes, I’m too dirty for the likes of you!” He spat on the floor.
“Jim!”
He had turned away and was shuffling off when the Captain called his name. Reluctantly, he came back. The Captain thought long and hard. Everyone waited in silence and anticipation at the Captain for his decision. The all thought that the boy’s words had stung the pride of the Captain, and anxious to prove his justice and generosity, would be forced to accept the demands of the boy. But the truth couldn’t be further from that. In fact, he was thinking of his own past some years back, not unlike the sad spectacle before him, going his own way without father or mother, until a kind benefactor picked him up, and pointed him in the heavenly direction which made him into the man he was today. The remembrance stirred him. He had to do something for the lad, something to help him on his way. But what? Offer him a job aboard the ship, a brand new vessel, and his pride and joy? Slowly, the Captain’s furrowed brows smoothed out, and his clouded eyes cleared. Selfless blue eyes met defiant black eyes before he spoke.
“Jim, I offer you the position of cabin boy on my ship. Your duties would be to wait on me, help the cook serve the dishes and wait on others at the table, and tidy the deck every day. Also, your tasks will include scrubbing the cabins, toilets and bunk rooms every day. You may also have the position of valet to me. In return for your service, you will have food and lodging, and be paid a pound a week.”
At this, murmurs ran through the sailors. Cabin boys were never paid this much or even treated this well. Food and lodging coupled with a pound a week in the deal! And to be a valet of the master, why that was an honour to die for!
“Do you understand?” the Captain clarified.
“Yes.”
“Of course, however,” continued the Captain once the boy understood his responsibilities, “there are rules for the crew of my boat that you might as well be told of now. These are formed to ensure the safety and happiness of everyone on the ship. Whoever breaks the rules will be punished accordingly. The first rule is kindness. Kindness to everyone and everything is mandatory. The second is honesty. Every man has his share and no more. No stealing or deceitfulness on board this ship. It will not be tolerated. The third rule is orderliness and punctuality. Everyone on the ship has a schedule, that I expect to be followed so that the ship may be run smoothly. The 4th rule: no swearing or using of God’s name in vain. 5th: Respect for the people of different races and for the property of others. As cabin boy in a ship, you may expect much travelling to foreign lands, and meeting of people with cultures much different from yours. My men must learn to accept that and not mock those, for all are equal creatures in God’s sight. The 6th rule is diligence. Hard work always has its own rewards. The last rule is not a rule in the sense of the word, but an obligation that I expect to be minded. This last is that everyone on board ‘Lady Mabel’ has to drop work at 7pm at to attend the evening service held every day by the chaplain. Are all that I have mentioned clear to you, Jim?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Excellent. I think we would get one well enough. Welcome aboard the ‘Lady Mabel’!!” announced Captain Stowe.
Cheers met the boy as he climbed up the deck. Even though the men had their own doubts and reservation as to the wisdom of the Captain’s decision, they respected the Captain, and were sincerely glad for the boy. They pitied him, and prayed fervently that he too might find the saving power and love of the Lord Jesus Christ which will work a greater change in his life than in any other favourable circumstances put together.
Cabin Boy (part 2)
Chapter 1
Captain Harry Stowe strolled along the harbour surveying the landscape with more than his usual exuberant step. Workmen clamoured to be heard above the din of the harbour side, always busy with fresh cargo to be exported, as well as exotic spices to be hauled away. The marketing stalls at the side produced an intensity of noise no less than the workmen. The stall owners could be heard bartering their goods, usually those provided by the ocean, with the women folk of the nearby village, who held ever penny they had with a tight fist. At the price agreed, they carefully counted the coins and handed them over, with a slight smile at their expertise of procuring their day’s meal at a good bargain. Whereupon on the leave of the ladies, the stall owner would dance a little jig for joy at his superior business abilities, having gotten more than what he had hoped for. It was not a bad scene, since both parties were satisfied with the outcome.
Captain Stowe had a particular gait uncommon among the men of his class. Merchants and workmen need only to hear the vigorous and purposeful stride along the wharf before lifting their heads in greeting to the indefatigable Captain. Yes, Captain Stowe was respected all along the harbour and surrounding villages for an honest and upright name. Those who knew him testified of his uprightness and generosity. While it was true that he demanded much from everyone- including himself, Captain Stowe, always the first at a troubled scene, ready to lend a spacious hand to those less fortunate than he, established his good name by compassion. His deep blue eyes were often found twinkling in amusement at the delight of the village children who had just received a penny from ‘the fun man’; his home often the sanctuary of the sick or injured, and his energies drained frequently in search of jobs for the unemployed. Having established his character, let us move on to his uncommon cause of gaiety today.
The object of Captain Stowe’s excessive animation became apparent as he hurried down the steps and paused along the footpath. Out in the distance, half blanketed by the light mist lay a beautiful little steamer which gleamed in the morning light. Freshly painted and refurbished, the gay vessel fairly sparkled. The Captain was astonished at the change worked in so few days. It was bought from an old skipper, who was wroth to part with his treasure. Only with the extraction of a promise to cherish the craft all its days would the skipper begin to consider selling it. Already, the Captain found it no hard task to keep his promise. The name ‘Lady Mabel’ beckoned to the Captain. Quickening his steps, the Captain closed the distance between the boat and him.
A shout of, “Captain’s here!”, greeted him as he appeared on the gangway.
“How’s it all going, my lads?” inquired the Captain cheerily of his crew.
“Fine, sir,” replied the foreman, with the others nodding their heads in unison. It was then that the Captain noticed a youth slouching by the deck.
“Why, what have we here? A boy! Perhaps the son of one of you lads?”
“No, Captain. This here lad came early this mornin’ skulking ‘round here. Asked ‘im what ‘e wanted, and all I’s got is he wants to see the Capt’n.” responded the foreman with facial grimaces comical to see, as he smiled at the boy.
“Yes, boy, what can I do for you, son?” asked the Captain, motioning with his hand to signal to the lad to come forward.
A most unprepossessing boy appeared, with his dirty shock of red hair, grimy fingers and rags for clothes. Moreover, the black eyes glared defiance at the Captain was enough to put off anyone. Anyone, that is, except the Captain. What others detested in the boy only served heighten the sympathy of the Captain. He took of his coat and wrapped it around the shivering boy. Placing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, he prompted again,
“Well?”
“I want a job,” mumbled the youth sulkily. “And I don’t need this” said the ungrateful boy as he shook off the kind arm around his shoulders and returned the coat. “I’m tougher ‘an you all,” he sneered.
“Well, boy- by the way- you haven’t given me your name.”
“Jim Stebbler.”
Memories struggled to rise in the Captain’s mind. Jim Stebbler? Wasn’t he the thieving lout by the alleyway, the scum of the village, and the partaker of the worst possible company? He had never worked before, so why now? Was he up to more mischief? Jim saw the hesitancy in the Captain’s expressive face. Laughing loudly, in a tone which brooked ill for everyone there, he retaliated,
“You’re too good for Jim Stebbler, are ya?” Well, well, we’ll see. Me who’s always a-thievin’ in the alley and want honest work fer a change; me who’s avoided by everyone cause I stink, and as likely ter nick a few coins for a living; me who’s got no friends ter talk to, so that I welcome any who’d talk to a fella like me- yes, I’m too dirty for the likes of you!” He spat on the floor.
“Jim!”
He had turned away and was shuffling off when the Captain called his name. Reluctantly, he came back. The Captain thought long and hard. Everyone waited in silence and anticipation at the Captain for his decision. The all thought that the boy’s words had stung the pride of the Captain, and anxious to prove his justice and generosity, would be forced to accept the demands of the boy. But the truth couldn’t be further from that. In fact, he was thinking of his own past some years back, not unlike the sad spectacle before him, going his own way without father or mother, until a kind benefactor picked him up, and pointed him in the heavenly direction which made him into the man he was today. The remembrance stirred him. He had to do something for the lad, something to help him on his way. But what? Offer him a job aboard the ship, a brand new vessel, and his pride and joy? Slowly, the Captain’s furrowed brows smoothed out, and his clouded eyes cleared. Selfless blue eyes met defiant black eyes before he spoke.
“Jim, I offer you the position of cabin boy on my ship. Your duties would be to wait on me, help the cook serve the dishes and wait on others at the table, and tidy the deck every day. Also, your tasks will include scrubbing the cabins, toilets and bunk rooms every day. You may also have the position of valet to me. In return for your service, you will have food and lodging, and be paid a pound a week.”
At this, murmurs ran through the sailors. Cabin boys were never paid this much or even treated this well. Food and lodging coupled with a pound a week in the deal! And to be a valet of the master, why that was an honour to die for!
“Do you understand?” the Captain clarified.
“Yes.”
“Of course, however,” continued the Captain once the boy understood his responsibilities, “there are rules for the crew of my boat that you might as well be told of now. These are formed to ensure the safety and happiness of everyone on the ship. Whoever breaks the rules will be punished accordingly. The first rule is kindness. Kindness to everyone and everything is mandatory. The second is honesty. Every man has his share and no more. No stealing or deceitfulness on board this ship. It will not be tolerated. The third rule is orderliness and punctuality. Everyone on the ship has a schedule, that I expect to be followed so that the ship may be run smoothly. The 4th rule: no swearing or using of God’s name in vain. 5th: Respect for the people of different races and for the property of others. As cabin boy in a ship, you may expect much travelling to foreign lands, and meeting of people with cultures much different from yours. My men must learn to accept that and not mock those, for all are equal creatures in God’s sight. The 6th rule is diligence. Hard work always has its own rewards. The last rule is not a rule in the sense of the word, but an obligation that I expect to be minded. This last is that everyone on board ‘Lady Mabel’ has to drop work at 7pm at to attend the evening service held every day by the chaplain. Are all that I have mentioned clear to you, Jim?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Excellent. I think we would get one well enough. Welcome aboard the ‘Lady Mabel’!!” announced Captain Stowe.
Cheers met the boy as he climbed up the deck. Even though the men had their own doubts and reservation as to the wisdom of the Captain’s decision, they respected the Captain, and were sincerely glad for the boy. They pitied him, and prayed fervently that he too might find the saving power and love of the Lord Jesus Christ which will work a greater change in his life than in any other favourable circumstances put together.
Captain Harry Stowe strolled along the harbour surveying the landscape with more than his usual exuberant step. Workmen clamoured to be heard above the din of the harbour side, always busy with fresh cargo to be exported, as well as exotic spices to be hauled away. The marketing stalls at the side produced an intensity of noise no less than the workmen. The stall owners could be heard bartering their goods, usually those provided by the ocean, with the women folk of the nearby village, who held ever penny they had with a tight fist. At the price agreed, they carefully counted the coins and handed them over, with a slight smile at their expertise of procuring their day’s meal at a good bargain. Whereupon on the leave of the ladies, the stall owner would dance a little jig for joy at his superior business abilities, having gotten more than what he had hoped for. It was not a bad scene, since both parties were satisfied with the outcome.
Captain Stowe had a particular gait uncommon among the men of his class. Merchants and workmen need only to hear the vigorous and purposeful stride along the wharf before lifting their heads in greeting to the indefatigable Captain. Yes, Captain Stowe was respected all along the harbour and surrounding villages for an honest and upright name. Those who knew him testified of his uprightness and generosity. While it was true that he demanded much from everyone- including himself, Captain Stowe, always the first at a troubled scene, ready to lend a spacious hand to those less fortunate than he, established his good name by compassion. His deep blue eyes were often found twinkling in amusement at the delight of the village children who had just received a penny from ‘the fun man’; his home often the sanctuary of the sick or injured, and his energies drained frequently in search of jobs for the unemployed. Having established his character, let us move on to his uncommon cause of gaiety today.
The object of Captain Stowe’s excessive animation became apparent as he hurried down the steps and paused along the footpath. Out in the distance, half blanketed by the light mist lay a beautiful little steamer which gleamed in the morning light. Freshly painted and refurbished, the gay vessel fairly sparkled. The Captain was astonished at the change worked in so few days. It was bought from an old skipper, who was wroth to part with his treasure. Only with the extraction of a promise to cherish the craft all its days would the skipper begin to consider selling it. Already, the Captain found it no hard task to keep his promise. The name ‘Lady Mabel’ beckoned to the Captain. Quickening his steps, the Captain closed the distance between the boat and him.
A shout of, “Captain’s here!”, greeted him as he appeared on the gangway.
“How’s it all going, my lads?” inquired the Captain cheerily of his crew.
“Fine, sir,” replied the foreman, with the others nodding their heads in unison. It was then that the Captain noticed a youth slouching by the deck.
“Why, what have we here? A boy! Perhaps the son of one of you lads?”
“No, Captain. This here lad came early this mornin’ skulking ‘round here. Asked ‘im what ‘e wanted, and all I’s got is he wants to see the Capt’n.” responded the foreman with facial grimaces comical to see, as he smiled at the boy.
“Yes, boy, what can I do for you, son?” asked the Captain, motioning with his hand to signal to the lad to come forward.
A most unprepossessing boy appeared, with his dirty shock of red hair, grimy fingers and rags for clothes. Moreover, the black eyes glared defiance at the Captain was enough to put off anyone. Anyone, that is, except the Captain. What others detested in the boy only served heighten the sympathy of the Captain. He took of his coat and wrapped it around the shivering boy. Placing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, he prompted again,
“Well?”
“I want a job,” mumbled the youth sulkily. “And I don’t need this” said the ungrateful boy as he shook off the kind arm around his shoulders and returned the coat. “I’m tougher ‘an you all,” he sneered.
“Well, boy- by the way- you haven’t given me your name.”
“Jim Stebbler.”
Memories struggled to rise in the Captain’s mind. Jim Stebbler? Wasn’t he the thieving lout by the alleyway, the scum of the village, and the partaker of the worst possible company? He had never worked before, so why now? Was he up to more mischief? Jim saw the hesitancy in the Captain’s expressive face. Laughing loudly, in a tone which brooked ill for everyone there, he retaliated,
“You’re too good for Jim Stebbler, are ya?” Well, well, we’ll see. Me who’s always a-thievin’ in the alley and want honest work fer a change; me who’s avoided by everyone cause I stink, and as likely ter nick a few coins for a living; me who’s got no friends ter talk to, so that I welcome any who’d talk to a fella like me- yes, I’m too dirty for the likes of you!” He spat on the floor.
“Jim!”
He had turned away and was shuffling off when the Captain called his name. Reluctantly, he came back. The Captain thought long and hard. Everyone waited in silence and anticipation at the Captain for his decision. The all thought that the boy’s words had stung the pride of the Captain, and anxious to prove his justice and generosity, would be forced to accept the demands of the boy. But the truth couldn’t be further from that. In fact, he was thinking of his own past some years back, not unlike the sad spectacle before him, going his own way without father or mother, until a kind benefactor picked him up, and pointed him in the heavenly direction which made him into the man he was today. The remembrance stirred him. He had to do something for the lad, something to help him on his way. But what? Offer him a job aboard the ship, a brand new vessel, and his pride and joy? Slowly, the Captain’s furrowed brows smoothed out, and his clouded eyes cleared. Selfless blue eyes met defiant black eyes before he spoke.
“Jim, I offer you the position of cabin boy on my ship. Your duties would be to wait on me, help the cook serve the dishes and wait on others at the table, and tidy the deck every day. Also, your tasks will include scrubbing the cabins, toilets and bunk rooms every day. You may also have the position of valet to me. In return for your service, you will have food and lodging, and be paid a pound a week.”
At this, murmurs ran through the sailors. Cabin boys were never paid this much or even treated this well. Food and lodging coupled with a pound a week in the deal! And to be a valet of the master, why that was an honour to die for!
“Do you understand?” the Captain clarified.
“Yes.”
“Of course, however,” continued the Captain once the boy understood his responsibilities, “there are rules for the crew of my boat that you might as well be told of now. These are formed to ensure the safety and happiness of everyone on the ship. Whoever breaks the rules will be punished accordingly. The first rule is kindness. Kindness to everyone and everything is mandatory. The second is honesty. Every man has his share and no more. No stealing or deceitfulness on board this ship. It will not be tolerated. The third rule is orderliness and punctuality. Everyone on the ship has a schedule, that I expect to be followed so that the ship may be run smoothly. The 4th rule: no swearing or using of God’s name in vain. 5th: Respect for the people of different races and for the property of others. As cabin boy in a ship, you may expect much travelling to foreign lands, and meeting of people with cultures much different from yours. My men must learn to accept that and not mock those, for all are equal creatures in God’s sight. The 6th rule is diligence. Hard work always has its own rewards. The last rule is not a rule in the sense of the word, but an obligation that I expect to be minded. This last is that everyone on board ‘Lady Mabel’ has to drop work at 7pm at to attend the evening service held every day by the chaplain. Are all that I have mentioned clear to you, Jim?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Excellent. I think we would get one well enough. Welcome aboard the ‘Lady Mabel’!!” announced Captain Stowe.
Cheers met the boy as he climbed up the deck. Even though the men had their own doubts and reservation as to the wisdom of the Captain’s decision, they respected the Captain, and were sincerely glad for the boy. They pitied him, and prayed fervently that he too might find the saving power and love of the Lord Jesus Christ which will work a greater change in his life than in any other favourable circumstances put together.
The Rival Painters (part 1)
The elegant room beckoned invitingly; beautiful landscape pictures adorned the walls, cosy divans lay scattered throughout the room, and the sun peeped out from behind the rich velvet curtains to bid its occupant good-day. But all was lost upon him. With bent head and clenched hands he paced, careless of time and hour, or of the alluring air of sumptuous luxury around him. So far lost was he in contemplation that a gentle knock on the door went unheeded. A second more insistent knock brought him back, however, and jerked his head up to reveal his countenance which had hitherto been hidden. A most singular face it was. It contained the power for good and bad, but the cruel look was strongest just now, for a bitter despair had fallen over the handsome face. The deep set eyes burned with a fiery hatred; the beautifully moulded forehead knitted in a dark frown; and the firm mouth set in a scowl. Upon the opening of the door, the face underwent an instant transformation. Not a trace of the bitter hatred and resentment remained. Indeed, he was all smiles and good humour, and the waiter who handed him the letter thought Monsieur Thylatte the “charmingest” man alive. The waiter would have been astounded however, if he could have seen the reappearance of the look after he left. It died away as he read the letter, only to be replaced by a grim smile with a grimmer significance to the offender.
“Well, Angelo, we will see who triumphs in the end- you or me.”
He laughed sardonically. Striding over to the mahogany desk littered with letters of critique, commendations and overtures of friendliness, he pushed them all impatiently aside and prepared the materials for a letter. He fingered the edge of the paper before him, his mind racing to form the needed words. He began to write.
“Well, Angelo, we will see who triumphs in the end- you or me.”
He laughed sardonically. Striding over to the mahogany desk littered with letters of critique, commendations and overtures of friendliness, he pushed them all impatiently aside and prepared the materials for a letter. He fingered the edge of the paper before him, his mind racing to form the needed words. He began to write.
The Rival Painters (part 2)
The intertwined vines made the perfect frame and the sleepy sea a perfect backdrop. It was, however, a means only of highlighting the main figures in the picture- a pair of lovers. Hope, love, and life bloomed in their faces, both in the ardent glance of the boy, and in the passionate glow of the girl.
“The sea is unusually calm today, isn’t it, Gabriel? Even though it is generally tranquil, today, it is positively lethargic. I wonder if it’s a precursor of a storm. You know the saying that after the lull invariably come a storm; and by the look of things, it’s not going to be an ordinary storm, it’ll be a tempest.”
“Let’s hope we don’t get caught in it, whatever it is. But I’d like to stay for awhile; the weather is beautiful and refreshing it does one good after one’s been cooped up in a dark and dank old monastery, painting an abbot.”
A silvery laugh met this speech, but sobered up directly, as Viola replied, “I hope so too, but I have this sad premonition that something is about to happen, even though there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Nevertheless, let us tarry awhile for your sake, to dispel the pious pattering of the monk’s feet from your ears, and instead fill it with the sound of nature’s music. See there, the loveliest rose I ever saw; gaze awhile on it, and forget the damp and dark cell of the old hermit.”
“No there you err, Viola. The best music I could hear is your laugh, the brightest light, your smile, and the loveliest sight, you.”
“You are sentimental today, Gabriel.”
“How could I not be with you near me? Your living breath and touch are life and light to me. I live for you and you alone. Give the miser his treasure, and give me your smile, both are satisfied.”
“Do you really care so much for me, Gabriel?” She murmured, turning her head of golden curls away.
“I would die for you, Viola.”
“I was once told that by another man. Treacherous lover he was! He loved me only for my name and wealth. When my parents lost the fortune and died, he cast me off, and made himself happy with another, not caring a sou for my heart- the heart he left broken and trodden upon. He offered me false promises and broke them all. How can I be certain you do not do the same, Gabriel?” she returned bitterly.
“Look, at me Viola! Do you think I would lie to you? I mean what I say.” His eyes flashed, grieved that she had doubted his love for even a moment. Ashamed of her doubt, she replied contritely,
“Forgive me, Gabriel, and show me how I may atone.”
“I will. Viola, will you marry me, and be my dearest possession?”
“Yes, I will Gabriel. I love you too, and consent to pass my life with you.”
His heart overflowing to fullness, he gathered Viola in his arms. “When, Viola? When shall you make my dream come true?”
“Now, if you wish it, Gabriel.” She smiled at him; her eyes radiant through tears, tears of love. Together, arm in arm; they strolled through the arch, oblivious of the dark clouds gathering in the skies above, only sensible of their great joy.
“The sea is unusually calm today, isn’t it, Gabriel? Even though it is generally tranquil, today, it is positively lethargic. I wonder if it’s a precursor of a storm. You know the saying that after the lull invariably come a storm; and by the look of things, it’s not going to be an ordinary storm, it’ll be a tempest.”
“Let’s hope we don’t get caught in it, whatever it is. But I’d like to stay for awhile; the weather is beautiful and refreshing it does one good after one’s been cooped up in a dark and dank old monastery, painting an abbot.”
A silvery laugh met this speech, but sobered up directly, as Viola replied, “I hope so too, but I have this sad premonition that something is about to happen, even though there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Nevertheless, let us tarry awhile for your sake, to dispel the pious pattering of the monk’s feet from your ears, and instead fill it with the sound of nature’s music. See there, the loveliest rose I ever saw; gaze awhile on it, and forget the damp and dark cell of the old hermit.”
“No there you err, Viola. The best music I could hear is your laugh, the brightest light, your smile, and the loveliest sight, you.”
“You are sentimental today, Gabriel.”
“How could I not be with you near me? Your living breath and touch are life and light to me. I live for you and you alone. Give the miser his treasure, and give me your smile, both are satisfied.”
“Do you really care so much for me, Gabriel?” She murmured, turning her head of golden curls away.
“I would die for you, Viola.”
“I was once told that by another man. Treacherous lover he was! He loved me only for my name and wealth. When my parents lost the fortune and died, he cast me off, and made himself happy with another, not caring a sou for my heart- the heart he left broken and trodden upon. He offered me false promises and broke them all. How can I be certain you do not do the same, Gabriel?” she returned bitterly.
“Look, at me Viola! Do you think I would lie to you? I mean what I say.” His eyes flashed, grieved that she had doubted his love for even a moment. Ashamed of her doubt, she replied contritely,
“Forgive me, Gabriel, and show me how I may atone.”
“I will. Viola, will you marry me, and be my dearest possession?”
“Yes, I will Gabriel. I love you too, and consent to pass my life with you.”
His heart overflowing to fullness, he gathered Viola in his arms. “When, Viola? When shall you make my dream come true?”
“Now, if you wish it, Gabriel.” She smiled at him; her eyes radiant through tears, tears of love. Together, arm in arm; they strolled through the arch, oblivious of the dark clouds gathering in the skies above, only sensible of their great joy.
The Adventures of Elitemeadow
Hi people! I don't know why I chose this title for this story some 5 years back. I guess I was really impressed with the word 'elite' and so I decided to use it. :) I wrote this story on a suggestion between my cousin and me. We decided on 2 titles to choose from: The Rock and Beyond the Stars. I chose the latter, but changed the title (we sort of laxed the rules!) to elitemeadow. This story is about my toys, and the addition of a new member. You can read about my toys in my journal. There is one more thing I should mention before I leave you to enjoy the story: As I said in the beginning, I wrote this 5 years back, and my english was not what it is now, so please excuse the lapses in quality, grammer and punctuation! I am posting the story as it was then.
Chapter 1
“I know! Let’s go pick fruits and nuts in the forest, tomorrow morning. We can cook some for supper, and we could have a picnic there!” cried Miffy excitedly. “Yes, Let’s do” said Greenfy earnestly, who was anxious to please Miffy. He was promptly backed up by the others: “Pleasee? We’ve not had a picnic in ages,” and they all sat looking up at Tiger.
“Please Tiger, it would be so much fun to go berry picking again this summer. The berries are ripe, and Miffy makes such nice cakes and muffins with them. Besides,” he added, “If we don’t collect them soon, the Friskies will.” begged Greenfy. At this, the whole ‘family’ roared with laughter at the last few words. Everyone knew that the Friskies were Greenfy’s enemy, for they had taught Greenfy a lesson that he would not soon forget. “Hmm, I don’t know,” said Tiger looking amused, “ you might make a good snack for the bears, Greenfy. You look like a plum juicy little bunny!” Here, everyone except Greenfy started laughing again. “Oh, please don’t tease me. We’ll be good, truly” pleaded Greenfy. “
“Please?” cried everyone. “Oh, alright, I see that I’ve no choice. Only, you must promise me not to go into the Bears Territory. Theirs paws are very dangerous,” said Tiger seriously. “Oh we’ll keep out,” everyone promised.
“Good! Now, Miffy will prepare the picnic for tomorrow with Greenfy’s help. Spotty, come with me to see and set the boundaries for tomorrow. While we are away, Brown bear, guard the house, and let none of the others stray from the house. Jumbo will keep you company. If anything happens, send Jumbo to call me immediately,” instructed Tiger. At this the two cats bounded away to the forest to catch supper, and to set the boundaries for tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Miffy retired to the kitchen to prepare, but the rest stayed at the front lawn. Here, I will proceed to tell you a little bit about our friends.
Tiger is a beautiful white Siberian tiger with black stripes and blue eyes. As the oldest, she is the head of the ‘house’. Everyone in the family looks to her for leadership and comfort. She is a very strict but just disciplinarian, as you will find out later. She is Greenfy’s friend and comforter most of the times.
Jumbo is the next oldest. He looks somewhat like "Dumbo". The only difference between them, is that Jumbo is a mouse. “Dumbo” is an elephant. He is small in size compared to his big ears, which is his transport most of the time. He can fly. Although he is a very quiet family member, he is the most faithful. He obeys all orders almost instantly.
Although Brown bear is the third oldest, he is big for his age. Brown bear loves, and is attracted to honey like a bee. Brown bear eats a lot, which accounts for his size. He is therefore, being chosen as guard of the house. He too obeys orders without question.
The next in age is Spotty. He has both cheetah and leopard blood in his veins. He runs very fast as well as he climbs trees. He is another member who rarely shouts in the house. He is Miffy’s confidante and transport, because ‘he acts like a gentleman’ as Miffy would say. This makes Greenfy very jealous of Spotty. Right now, Tiger is teaching him how to hunt like an expert.
Greenfy is the ‘unlucky’ one who was always being teased by the others because of his size. He didn’t mine being teased by Tiger, but he got very hurt sometimes if the others, especially Miffy laughed at him. He used to be fat, but careful management of his diet by Tiger helped him reduce his ‘fat’. When he was hungry, which he always was, he would gobble down his share of food, to Miffy’s disgust.
Miffy is the youngest of this present group. She is regularly called: “The lady of the house”, because she had, in her bearing, both elegance and grace in speech and manner. Whenever anyone got hurt, or was in trouble, (which was very rare,) Miffy was the person to go to. She had a heart full of compassion for people. Yet, she was still a regular mischief loving little bunny. She got into more trouble than the others, including Greenfy. She was the best cook at the present, and a very good one she is too! She made very yummy muffins, cakes, sandwiches, and many other things fit to eat. She is the most spirited and excitable family member present.
Such is the little family who occupies the den of Elitemeadow.
Chapter 3
Now to return to the story: Miffy had gotten everything together without Greenfy’s help. She surveyed work, nicely decorated with flowers in the picnic basket with immense satisfaction. There was meat for Tiger and Spotty, with a little leftover for Brown bear if he wanted; water in abundance; honey in plenty; carrots and lettuce for Greenfy and herself; and last of all cheese for Jumbo. Thinking to herself: “We’ll have the fruits we pick as dessert,” she went out. She found her friends lying down, snoozing in the grass.
Sitting down on the grass, She said to herself, I’ll wait for Spotty.” 5 minutes passed, 10 minutes passed, but still no sign of them. Presently, she thought to herself: “ What’s keeping them? They’re usually not so long. I wonder what has happened to them?” Another 20 minutes passed. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her: “ I know! I’ll look for them myself! After all,” she reasoned, “I know my way around here.” Without thinking of the consequences of her action, she went into the house, took her water bottle, and was off before anyone woke up. She went off without even a word to anyone ……
~
Presently, the group on the grass woke up. They felt hungry, so they sent Greenfy in to ask Miffy for something to munch on. But, you can imagine their surprise when Greenfy came out a moment later, not only empty handed, but with a troubled look stammering: “I …I can’t find Miffy anywhere! She’s… she’s g…gone!” “ GONE!” Brown bear exclaimed:
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said!”
“Are you sure she’s not hiding?”
“Yes, very sure. I even shouted for her.”
“Jumbo”
“Yes sir?”-
“Call and inform Tiger right away.”
“Yes s…”
“There’s no need. They are here,” intervened a voice from behind. The startled group spun around to face Tiger and Spotty. “What’s the matter? What are you crying for Greenfy?” demanded Tiger. “S…She’s dis…disappeared,” sobbed Greenfy. “WHAT? WHO? Tell me Brown bear,” commanded Tiger.
When Tiger finally learnt the truth, she was frustrated and angry. “Have you any clue where she’s gone?” growled Tiger. “No” came the nervous reply. “Bother Miffy, bother everything! Jumbo, fly ahead and keep a look out for Miffy. Meet us at the forest when dark.” At this, Jumbo flew away in haste. “ Now we’ll break up into two search parties. I’ll take one and Brown bear will take the other,” said Tiger much to the disappointment of Spotty. “Greenfy will come with me. We will search the east, near the river. Brown bear will take you Spotty to the west, the forest. You will search for her there. When the sky is dark, we’ll meet you there.”
At this, the group dispersed.
Chapter 4
Meanwhile, Miffy was wandering around in the forest, at the mercy of illusions. She was not used to it. “Where are they?” she would think to herself. Then just at that moment, she thought she saw Tiger’s stripes, and would rush toward it. Reaching there, it would disappear, or turn out to be rows of berries. Then again she would hear the rustling of the trees, and run towards it. Then she would find out it was the wind. Shortly after, she happened to see a little lane. After following it, it would end up now where. There were many of these sorts of illusions. But one thing remained the same: She was always disappointed.
Finally, she gave up and looked around her, and for the first time, a feeling of horror rose up in her. She didn’t recognize the place she was in.
In other words, she was lost ……
~
Tiger paced up and down. She and Greenfy had seared every nook and cranny of the east. But there was no sign of Miffy. The sky was growing darker and darker every minute. It would soon be night.
In the West, Spotty and Brown bear were tired and hungry. They wanted to go home. They, too, had searched almost every place they knew, but sadly, it was of no avail. They choose a place and sat down, waiting for Tiger and Greenfy. After awhile, they fell asleep.
~
Miffy wanted to cry. She wished she had not left home. She had no idea where she was, and the thought of spending a night alone in a cold unknown forest, sent shivers down her back. She sat down and cried in despair.
After awhile, when she regained her composure, she stood and looked around. The sky was dark now, but she was not worried about that now. It was what she heard. Something likes a cry in the still, silent air…
Chapter 5
Spotty woke up to hear Tiger talking to Brown bear, who woke up before him because he was less tired. Spotty who was anxious for his friend had searched more than Brown bear. He walked over to hear what Tiger had to say: “No, we didn’t find her either. She is not there.
“Couldn’t she have gone home? We could have missed her.”
“Hmm…not thought of that. Very unlikely, Brown bear, but it’s worth a try.”
Here, Tiger called Jumbo and explained to him their plan. Jumbo agreed to do it immediately although he was very tired. They sat down to await the news.
~
Miffy shivered as the cold wind blew. She walked towards the sound, as if mesmerized by it. Somehow, it expressed what she felt. Although she did not understand it, she somehow ‘understood the feeling’. It was a mournful sound coming nearer and nearer as she walked. A sudden rustling of leaves above her made her stand still. She thought of owls, eagles, lions, foxes, stoats and other animals, which hunted for rabbits at night. She was alone in a dark night. The sound was now right behind the bush that she was standing in front of. She slowly crept around, her heart beating with terror. What she saw made her heart turn in spite of herself. A huge female bear lay within a few feet from her. She gave a little jump and was about to turn around and run blindly, when a tiny movement caught her attention. She stared hard in the dark, at the bear. It appeared to be asleep. Nevertheless, she walked towards the bear silently. Just beside the mother bear, lay a little cub. But why stay in the open where danger was?
Then, the moonlight appeared just above the fir trees, and revealed the answer: The mother bear was dead. The cub was homeless, and lost, in a dark cold night.
Feeling sorry for the little bear, she walked confidently, yet quietly and slowly towards the cub, so that she would not frighten it. “It’s alright little bear. Come on, I won’t hurt you, I’ll take good care of you…” With soothing and comforting words, she gently drew the bear out. It was much bigger than she thought. Probably about a month old she thought. She carried it to a shady tree and sat down, with the bear in such a position, that it acted like a water bottle to Miffy.
Very soon, the moonlight shone on a little bunny with a bear cub in her arms, fast asleep beneath the starry sky ……
Chapter 6
Tiger was very worried. Jumbo came back to confirm that Miffy was not at home. She sighed: “I don’t know what to do. Shall we…”
Spotty meanwhile, was a little distance away from his friends. Far enough so that no one could see him, but also near enough so that he could hear them. He was pacing up and down, sniffing. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw ……Miffy’s water bottle! He gave a little cry, which caused the others to come running over, saying breathlessly: “Oh Spotty, what hap…” but they got no further, for the minute they saw the water bottle, they too, fell silent. Tiger was the first to recover saying: “SEARCH!” Everyone searched far and wide, but did not see anything, for Miffy had dropped the bottle when she heard the sound. They did not think of looking behind the bush.
Again, they gathered, but before anyone reported anything, Jumbo squeaked: “Look! Footprints!!! True enough, it was Miffy’s paw prints. It could be seen clearly against the mud background ……
~
Miffy awoke to the tickling of whiskers. It was Spotty’s. Everyone was so glad at finding her that they woke her up with all the hugging and crying tears of relieve. Spotty was the happiest. “Hush!! The cub’s asle…” but she did not finish it, for she saw the cub safely tucked away with Brown bear. There was great jubilation and relieve as they went home. A tired but contented group.
When they arrived safely back home, Tiger ordered everyone into bed at once. Tiger brought into Miffy’s room a little basket and blanket for the newcomer to sleep in.
Soon, everyone was asleep under the moonlit sky. All was still and silent.
~
At last, dawn came, and the joyful rays of the sun bathed the air. Miffy was the first to awake on this sunny day. Not because she was less tired than the other, no! But because the little cub had tried to wake her up by climbing on top of her face. It was then that Miffy remembered the events of the day before. She ran out to the kitchen to get some breakfast of the bear cub, when she saw the picnic basket just as she left it yesterday. “Oooh!! Picnic!” She exclaimed. “Not for you,” came a stern voice behind her. “Why, please?” She inquired as she spun around. “Because you …” came the reply. Tiger definitely said a lot more than that which no one knew, and will ever know. Later, however, everyone knew the outcome of the talk when Spotty called out: “Miffy!! Hurry up! We’re goin…” Tiger promptly quenched him by saying: “Let her alone. She is not coming. She will be taking care of the cub for the day, at home. Spotty was stunned, and so was Jumbo. “But, but…” they stammered, ‘you don’t intent to punish her this w…”
“NO BUTS!!!”
~
Miffy spent most of the morning thinking of the consequences of her action, and a name of the cub. She wasn’t even sure Tiger would let her keep it. She would ask, she decided, when Tiger came home.
She was tidying the house when a cry from the cub made her rush to the door in panic. She found Tiger carrying the cub away. “No, NOO!!!” She screamed. Tiger looked back but continued to walk away from her. “Please let me keep him, Please!” She cried as she ran to the room, and slammed the door. She spent the whole afternoon in the room crying bitterly, for she felt sorry for the cub that had no home. She couldn’t bear to part from the cub. Her affection for the cub had grown strong during the day.
Chapter 7
Just before the sun was about to set, Miffy received a knock on her bedroom door. Miffy opened the door, expecting it to be Tiger, but to her surprise, it was Spotty. She invited him in cordially, but without a word. Both sat on the floor at the end of the room, facing each other. Spotty was the first to speak: “Miffy, I’m sorry you didn’t come today. I’ll tell you about it. The nuts and grapes weren’t really ripe yet. It was just the berries.” Here, Spotty hesitated to go further, knowing that Miffy loved to pick berries the best of all the fruits. Miffy, knowing what was in his mind said: “Go on please,” trying to speak with dignity, but failing utterly. Spotty sighed with relieve and continued: “the berries were in abundance, especially the black berries, blue berries and the boysenberries. They were really lovely, together with the food you packed. Thanks.” “It’s alright,” replied Miffy with a quiver in her voice. For a while, they sat in silence, staring at each other, both feeling uncomfortable.
All of a sudden, Miffy burst out passionately: “I want to keep the cub! Oh, I want to keep him!!!” Spotty replied calmly, as if prepared for this. “Miffy, Tiger knows what to do with the cub. She will find him a good home.” “ NO!! This is a good home. I will take care of him, if you don’t want to. It’s not fair that get punished twice.” “No. Tiger knows what is best.’
“Indeed I do,” replied a solemn voice from behind. Miffy turned to see Tiger walking toward them. “Tiger, please don’t take him away, It’s not fair” she cried, making on last desperate attempt. “It’s not fair to punish me twice for yesterday!”
“I’m not punishing you twice Miffy, therefore…” Tiger stepped aside, and to the astonishment of Miffy, brown bear brought up a basket saying with a grin: “Open it.” Miffy opened it, but with a voice full of disappointment, she said: “Blueberries?” It was all she managed to say, for in looking in the basket harder, she saw a pair of black beady eyes peering out at her, from under the layer of blueberries. Squealing with laughter, she picked up the bear soaked from head to roe in blueberry sauce. When the others saw it, they too rolled over in laughter. They had planned to surprise Miffy by putting her favourite blueberries, and her beloved pet, in the picnic basket. The naughty bear however, had a plan of his own, and in trying to eat the blueberries, he squashed ¾ of them, and only managed to get ¼ in his mouth. Of course, he was covered in sticky berry juice.
Chapter 8
When the general excitement was over, Jumbo asked meekly: “What will you name it?” “Blue bear” was the somewhat subdued reply he got. Miffy smiled shyly as she said: “I treasure this precious gift from all of you, and I want to thank all of you for it!”
~
The next morning, the sun never rose as beautifully as it did now, as if expressing its joy at seeing such an unusually fine day.
A fine day it was indeed, as the little group gathered again once more on the lush grass in front of the house. They gathered together again on this beautiful summer morning, to celebrate the addition of one more member: Blue bear.
Chapter 1
“I know! Let’s go pick fruits and nuts in the forest, tomorrow morning. We can cook some for supper, and we could have a picnic there!” cried Miffy excitedly. “Yes, Let’s do” said Greenfy earnestly, who was anxious to please Miffy. He was promptly backed up by the others: “Pleasee? We’ve not had a picnic in ages,” and they all sat looking up at Tiger.
“Please Tiger, it would be so much fun to go berry picking again this summer. The berries are ripe, and Miffy makes such nice cakes and muffins with them. Besides,” he added, “If we don’t collect them soon, the Friskies will.” begged Greenfy. At this, the whole ‘family’ roared with laughter at the last few words. Everyone knew that the Friskies were Greenfy’s enemy, for they had taught Greenfy a lesson that he would not soon forget. “Hmm, I don’t know,” said Tiger looking amused, “ you might make a good snack for the bears, Greenfy. You look like a plum juicy little bunny!” Here, everyone except Greenfy started laughing again. “Oh, please don’t tease me. We’ll be good, truly” pleaded Greenfy. “
“Please?” cried everyone. “Oh, alright, I see that I’ve no choice. Only, you must promise me not to go into the Bears Territory. Theirs paws are very dangerous,” said Tiger seriously. “Oh we’ll keep out,” everyone promised.
“Good! Now, Miffy will prepare the picnic for tomorrow with Greenfy’s help. Spotty, come with me to see and set the boundaries for tomorrow. While we are away, Brown bear, guard the house, and let none of the others stray from the house. Jumbo will keep you company. If anything happens, send Jumbo to call me immediately,” instructed Tiger. At this the two cats bounded away to the forest to catch supper, and to set the boundaries for tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Miffy retired to the kitchen to prepare, but the rest stayed at the front lawn. Here, I will proceed to tell you a little bit about our friends.
Tiger is a beautiful white Siberian tiger with black stripes and blue eyes. As the oldest, she is the head of the ‘house’. Everyone in the family looks to her for leadership and comfort. She is a very strict but just disciplinarian, as you will find out later. She is Greenfy’s friend and comforter most of the times.
Jumbo is the next oldest. He looks somewhat like "Dumbo". The only difference between them, is that Jumbo is a mouse. “Dumbo” is an elephant. He is small in size compared to his big ears, which is his transport most of the time. He can fly. Although he is a very quiet family member, he is the most faithful. He obeys all orders almost instantly.
Although Brown bear is the third oldest, he is big for his age. Brown bear loves, and is attracted to honey like a bee. Brown bear eats a lot, which accounts for his size. He is therefore, being chosen as guard of the house. He too obeys orders without question.
The next in age is Spotty. He has both cheetah and leopard blood in his veins. He runs very fast as well as he climbs trees. He is another member who rarely shouts in the house. He is Miffy’s confidante and transport, because ‘he acts like a gentleman’ as Miffy would say. This makes Greenfy very jealous of Spotty. Right now, Tiger is teaching him how to hunt like an expert.
Greenfy is the ‘unlucky’ one who was always being teased by the others because of his size. He didn’t mine being teased by Tiger, but he got very hurt sometimes if the others, especially Miffy laughed at him. He used to be fat, but careful management of his diet by Tiger helped him reduce his ‘fat’. When he was hungry, which he always was, he would gobble down his share of food, to Miffy’s disgust.
Miffy is the youngest of this present group. She is regularly called: “The lady of the house”, because she had, in her bearing, both elegance and grace in speech and manner. Whenever anyone got hurt, or was in trouble, (which was very rare,) Miffy was the person to go to. She had a heart full of compassion for people. Yet, she was still a regular mischief loving little bunny. She got into more trouble than the others, including Greenfy. She was the best cook at the present, and a very good one she is too! She made very yummy muffins, cakes, sandwiches, and many other things fit to eat. She is the most spirited and excitable family member present.
Such is the little family who occupies the den of Elitemeadow.
Chapter 3
Now to return to the story: Miffy had gotten everything together without Greenfy’s help. She surveyed work, nicely decorated with flowers in the picnic basket with immense satisfaction. There was meat for Tiger and Spotty, with a little leftover for Brown bear if he wanted; water in abundance; honey in plenty; carrots and lettuce for Greenfy and herself; and last of all cheese for Jumbo. Thinking to herself: “We’ll have the fruits we pick as dessert,” she went out. She found her friends lying down, snoozing in the grass.
Sitting down on the grass, She said to herself, I’ll wait for Spotty.” 5 minutes passed, 10 minutes passed, but still no sign of them. Presently, she thought to herself: “ What’s keeping them? They’re usually not so long. I wonder what has happened to them?” Another 20 minutes passed. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her: “ I know! I’ll look for them myself! After all,” she reasoned, “I know my way around here.” Without thinking of the consequences of her action, she went into the house, took her water bottle, and was off before anyone woke up. She went off without even a word to anyone ……
~
Presently, the group on the grass woke up. They felt hungry, so they sent Greenfy in to ask Miffy for something to munch on. But, you can imagine their surprise when Greenfy came out a moment later, not only empty handed, but with a troubled look stammering: “I …I can’t find Miffy anywhere! She’s… she’s g…gone!” “ GONE!” Brown bear exclaimed:
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said!”
“Are you sure she’s not hiding?”
“Yes, very sure. I even shouted for her.”
“Jumbo”
“Yes sir?”-
“Call and inform Tiger right away.”
“Yes s…”
“There’s no need. They are here,” intervened a voice from behind. The startled group spun around to face Tiger and Spotty. “What’s the matter? What are you crying for Greenfy?” demanded Tiger. “S…She’s dis…disappeared,” sobbed Greenfy. “WHAT? WHO? Tell me Brown bear,” commanded Tiger.
When Tiger finally learnt the truth, she was frustrated and angry. “Have you any clue where she’s gone?” growled Tiger. “No” came the nervous reply. “Bother Miffy, bother everything! Jumbo, fly ahead and keep a look out for Miffy. Meet us at the forest when dark.” At this, Jumbo flew away in haste. “ Now we’ll break up into two search parties. I’ll take one and Brown bear will take the other,” said Tiger much to the disappointment of Spotty. “Greenfy will come with me. We will search the east, near the river. Brown bear will take you Spotty to the west, the forest. You will search for her there. When the sky is dark, we’ll meet you there.”
At this, the group dispersed.
Chapter 4
Meanwhile, Miffy was wandering around in the forest, at the mercy of illusions. She was not used to it. “Where are they?” she would think to herself. Then just at that moment, she thought she saw Tiger’s stripes, and would rush toward it. Reaching there, it would disappear, or turn out to be rows of berries. Then again she would hear the rustling of the trees, and run towards it. Then she would find out it was the wind. Shortly after, she happened to see a little lane. After following it, it would end up now where. There were many of these sorts of illusions. But one thing remained the same: She was always disappointed.
Finally, she gave up and looked around her, and for the first time, a feeling of horror rose up in her. She didn’t recognize the place she was in.
In other words, she was lost ……
~
Tiger paced up and down. She and Greenfy had seared every nook and cranny of the east. But there was no sign of Miffy. The sky was growing darker and darker every minute. It would soon be night.
In the West, Spotty and Brown bear were tired and hungry. They wanted to go home. They, too, had searched almost every place they knew, but sadly, it was of no avail. They choose a place and sat down, waiting for Tiger and Greenfy. After awhile, they fell asleep.
~
Miffy wanted to cry. She wished she had not left home. She had no idea where she was, and the thought of spending a night alone in a cold unknown forest, sent shivers down her back. She sat down and cried in despair.
After awhile, when she regained her composure, she stood and looked around. The sky was dark now, but she was not worried about that now. It was what she heard. Something likes a cry in the still, silent air…
Chapter 5
Spotty woke up to hear Tiger talking to Brown bear, who woke up before him because he was less tired. Spotty who was anxious for his friend had searched more than Brown bear. He walked over to hear what Tiger had to say: “No, we didn’t find her either. She is not there.
“Couldn’t she have gone home? We could have missed her.”
“Hmm…not thought of that. Very unlikely, Brown bear, but it’s worth a try.”
Here, Tiger called Jumbo and explained to him their plan. Jumbo agreed to do it immediately although he was very tired. They sat down to await the news.
~
Miffy shivered as the cold wind blew. She walked towards the sound, as if mesmerized by it. Somehow, it expressed what she felt. Although she did not understand it, she somehow ‘understood the feeling’. It was a mournful sound coming nearer and nearer as she walked. A sudden rustling of leaves above her made her stand still. She thought of owls, eagles, lions, foxes, stoats and other animals, which hunted for rabbits at night. She was alone in a dark night. The sound was now right behind the bush that she was standing in front of. She slowly crept around, her heart beating with terror. What she saw made her heart turn in spite of herself. A huge female bear lay within a few feet from her. She gave a little jump and was about to turn around and run blindly, when a tiny movement caught her attention. She stared hard in the dark, at the bear. It appeared to be asleep. Nevertheless, she walked towards the bear silently. Just beside the mother bear, lay a little cub. But why stay in the open where danger was?
Then, the moonlight appeared just above the fir trees, and revealed the answer: The mother bear was dead. The cub was homeless, and lost, in a dark cold night.
Feeling sorry for the little bear, she walked confidently, yet quietly and slowly towards the cub, so that she would not frighten it. “It’s alright little bear. Come on, I won’t hurt you, I’ll take good care of you…” With soothing and comforting words, she gently drew the bear out. It was much bigger than she thought. Probably about a month old she thought. She carried it to a shady tree and sat down, with the bear in such a position, that it acted like a water bottle to Miffy.
Very soon, the moonlight shone on a little bunny with a bear cub in her arms, fast asleep beneath the starry sky ……
Chapter 6
Tiger was very worried. Jumbo came back to confirm that Miffy was not at home. She sighed: “I don’t know what to do. Shall we…”
Spotty meanwhile, was a little distance away from his friends. Far enough so that no one could see him, but also near enough so that he could hear them. He was pacing up and down, sniffing. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw ……Miffy’s water bottle! He gave a little cry, which caused the others to come running over, saying breathlessly: “Oh Spotty, what hap…” but they got no further, for the minute they saw the water bottle, they too, fell silent. Tiger was the first to recover saying: “SEARCH!” Everyone searched far and wide, but did not see anything, for Miffy had dropped the bottle when she heard the sound. They did not think of looking behind the bush.
Again, they gathered, but before anyone reported anything, Jumbo squeaked: “Look! Footprints!!! True enough, it was Miffy’s paw prints. It could be seen clearly against the mud background ……
~
Miffy awoke to the tickling of whiskers. It was Spotty’s. Everyone was so glad at finding her that they woke her up with all the hugging and crying tears of relieve. Spotty was the happiest. “Hush!! The cub’s asle…” but she did not finish it, for she saw the cub safely tucked away with Brown bear. There was great jubilation and relieve as they went home. A tired but contented group.
When they arrived safely back home, Tiger ordered everyone into bed at once. Tiger brought into Miffy’s room a little basket and blanket for the newcomer to sleep in.
Soon, everyone was asleep under the moonlit sky. All was still and silent.
~
At last, dawn came, and the joyful rays of the sun bathed the air. Miffy was the first to awake on this sunny day. Not because she was less tired than the other, no! But because the little cub had tried to wake her up by climbing on top of her face. It was then that Miffy remembered the events of the day before. She ran out to the kitchen to get some breakfast of the bear cub, when she saw the picnic basket just as she left it yesterday. “Oooh!! Picnic!” She exclaimed. “Not for you,” came a stern voice behind her. “Why, please?” She inquired as she spun around. “Because you …” came the reply. Tiger definitely said a lot more than that which no one knew, and will ever know. Later, however, everyone knew the outcome of the talk when Spotty called out: “Miffy!! Hurry up! We’re goin…” Tiger promptly quenched him by saying: “Let her alone. She is not coming. She will be taking care of the cub for the day, at home. Spotty was stunned, and so was Jumbo. “But, but…” they stammered, ‘you don’t intent to punish her this w…”
“NO BUTS!!!”
~
Miffy spent most of the morning thinking of the consequences of her action, and a name of the cub. She wasn’t even sure Tiger would let her keep it. She would ask, she decided, when Tiger came home.
She was tidying the house when a cry from the cub made her rush to the door in panic. She found Tiger carrying the cub away. “No, NOO!!!” She screamed. Tiger looked back but continued to walk away from her. “Please let me keep him, Please!” She cried as she ran to the room, and slammed the door. She spent the whole afternoon in the room crying bitterly, for she felt sorry for the cub that had no home. She couldn’t bear to part from the cub. Her affection for the cub had grown strong during the day.
Chapter 7
Just before the sun was about to set, Miffy received a knock on her bedroom door. Miffy opened the door, expecting it to be Tiger, but to her surprise, it was Spotty. She invited him in cordially, but without a word. Both sat on the floor at the end of the room, facing each other. Spotty was the first to speak: “Miffy, I’m sorry you didn’t come today. I’ll tell you about it. The nuts and grapes weren’t really ripe yet. It was just the berries.” Here, Spotty hesitated to go further, knowing that Miffy loved to pick berries the best of all the fruits. Miffy, knowing what was in his mind said: “Go on please,” trying to speak with dignity, but failing utterly. Spotty sighed with relieve and continued: “the berries were in abundance, especially the black berries, blue berries and the boysenberries. They were really lovely, together with the food you packed. Thanks.” “It’s alright,” replied Miffy with a quiver in her voice. For a while, they sat in silence, staring at each other, both feeling uncomfortable.
All of a sudden, Miffy burst out passionately: “I want to keep the cub! Oh, I want to keep him!!!” Spotty replied calmly, as if prepared for this. “Miffy, Tiger knows what to do with the cub. She will find him a good home.” “ NO!! This is a good home. I will take care of him, if you don’t want to. It’s not fair that get punished twice.” “No. Tiger knows what is best.’
“Indeed I do,” replied a solemn voice from behind. Miffy turned to see Tiger walking toward them. “Tiger, please don’t take him away, It’s not fair” she cried, making on last desperate attempt. “It’s not fair to punish me twice for yesterday!”
“I’m not punishing you twice Miffy, therefore…” Tiger stepped aside, and to the astonishment of Miffy, brown bear brought up a basket saying with a grin: “Open it.” Miffy opened it, but with a voice full of disappointment, she said: “Blueberries?” It was all she managed to say, for in looking in the basket harder, she saw a pair of black beady eyes peering out at her, from under the layer of blueberries. Squealing with laughter, she picked up the bear soaked from head to roe in blueberry sauce. When the others saw it, they too rolled over in laughter. They had planned to surprise Miffy by putting her favourite blueberries, and her beloved pet, in the picnic basket. The naughty bear however, had a plan of his own, and in trying to eat the blueberries, he squashed ¾ of them, and only managed to get ¼ in his mouth. Of course, he was covered in sticky berry juice.
Chapter 8
When the general excitement was over, Jumbo asked meekly: “What will you name it?” “Blue bear” was the somewhat subdued reply he got. Miffy smiled shyly as she said: “I treasure this precious gift from all of you, and I want to thank all of you for it!”
~
The next morning, the sun never rose as beautifully as it did now, as if expressing its joy at seeing such an unusually fine day.
A fine day it was indeed, as the little group gathered again once more on the lush grass in front of the house. They gathered together again on this beautiful summer morning, to celebrate the addition of one more member: Blue bear.
Feudalism
Feudalism is a government system based on contracts that started during the 9th century, and lasted up to the 13th Century. It was mainly widespread in Western Europe, and it provided a relative order and security for the time being.
The origins of Feudalism can be traced back to the last days of the old Roman Empire in the 5th Century. Roman Nobles left their cities and moved to the country. There, they offered to protect the people living there in return for land and different services. Feudalism can also be traced back to the German Barbarians who invaded the Western Roman Empire. The fierce German fighters swore allegiance to their chieftains.
The highest authority in a feudal system is the King. The King was the one who owned all the land in his Kingdom (theoretically). Part of the land, he kept for his own use, and the remainder he would allocate to his high nobles, dukes, counts or earls. The land that he kept for himself is called the royal or crown land. In return for the land given to them, the high nobles would promise to provide a certain amount of knights for the King’s protection and use. It was not uncommon to find that the nobles themselves were often knights.
The knights were probably descendants of the Roman nobles or the German barbarians, but whatever it is, they were masters of the medieval warfare. People in various domains who needed security would perform different services for a knight in return for protection. The people were glad to call the knights “lords”.
After the King, the next in the chain of power are the high nobles. Then the noble aristocrats come next. These people owned huge amounts of land, and they had farmers working for them. They worked on the Manors, the estates belonging to the nobles. It ranged from a few hundred to several thousands of acres. In one Manor, there are several different types of people working inside. All of the people inside a Manor had specific duties. The nobility was to administer protection and justice, while the Clergy Men attended to the spiritual needs of all the people. The Freemen and the Farmers were the people who did the hardest labour.
Usually, the Freeman had the easier job than the Farmers. They worked as blacksmiths, millers, carpenters, etc. They had several more rights than the farmers. They were allowed to leave the manor whenever they liked, and they were often excused from working in the fields along with their fellow peasants, the farmers. Although the Freemen had greater privileges, their living conditions did not differ much from the farmers.
The farmers were the actual people who did manual labour in the fields, planting, harvesting, while also caring for the lord’s cattle. More commonly, however, the farmers are called serfs. While it is true that the serfs are the lowest in the chain of “power”, they differ greatly from slaves in 3 different aspects. Serfs are given the right to own property, while slaves are properties of their owners. Serfs could not be sold, but slaves can be put up in the auction house for bargain. Serfs can buy their own freedom, provided that the have the money; whereas, slaves would probably be whipped and scourged, and sent back to the fields to work under the scorching sun; if such an idea was ever mentioned.
The Freemen and the Farmers lived in continual poverty despite the much labour. For, as they had to use the mill and the bakery own by their lord, they had to pay “taxes”. These taxes took form in their production of their crops. Their cheese (for pasturing their cattle in the lord’s field), their flour and grain for using the mill and bakery served as taxes to pay the lord. These peasants lived on the verge of starvation continually.
They had but 2 major holidays in one year- Easter and Christmas. They were then invited to dine in their lord’s house for a feast. During Christmas, they had 2 weeks of vacation. Otherwise they had to work for at least 2-3 days a week, doing the lord’s work.
This is the basic structure of Feudalism in the 9th to the 13th Century. It was prevalent in Western Europe, but there were other countries that practiced it.
The origins of Feudalism can be traced back to the last days of the old Roman Empire in the 5th Century. Roman Nobles left their cities and moved to the country. There, they offered to protect the people living there in return for land and different services. Feudalism can also be traced back to the German Barbarians who invaded the Western Roman Empire. The fierce German fighters swore allegiance to their chieftains.
The highest authority in a feudal system is the King. The King was the one who owned all the land in his Kingdom (theoretically). Part of the land, he kept for his own use, and the remainder he would allocate to his high nobles, dukes, counts or earls. The land that he kept for himself is called the royal or crown land. In return for the land given to them, the high nobles would promise to provide a certain amount of knights for the King’s protection and use. It was not uncommon to find that the nobles themselves were often knights.
The knights were probably descendants of the Roman nobles or the German barbarians, but whatever it is, they were masters of the medieval warfare. People in various domains who needed security would perform different services for a knight in return for protection. The people were glad to call the knights “lords”.
After the King, the next in the chain of power are the high nobles. Then the noble aristocrats come next. These people owned huge amounts of land, and they had farmers working for them. They worked on the Manors, the estates belonging to the nobles. It ranged from a few hundred to several thousands of acres. In one Manor, there are several different types of people working inside. All of the people inside a Manor had specific duties. The nobility was to administer protection and justice, while the Clergy Men attended to the spiritual needs of all the people. The Freemen and the Farmers were the people who did the hardest labour.
Usually, the Freeman had the easier job than the Farmers. They worked as blacksmiths, millers, carpenters, etc. They had several more rights than the farmers. They were allowed to leave the manor whenever they liked, and they were often excused from working in the fields along with their fellow peasants, the farmers. Although the Freemen had greater privileges, their living conditions did not differ much from the farmers.
The farmers were the actual people who did manual labour in the fields, planting, harvesting, while also caring for the lord’s cattle. More commonly, however, the farmers are called serfs. While it is true that the serfs are the lowest in the chain of “power”, they differ greatly from slaves in 3 different aspects. Serfs are given the right to own property, while slaves are properties of their owners. Serfs could not be sold, but slaves can be put up in the auction house for bargain. Serfs can buy their own freedom, provided that the have the money; whereas, slaves would probably be whipped and scourged, and sent back to the fields to work under the scorching sun; if such an idea was ever mentioned.
The Freemen and the Farmers lived in continual poverty despite the much labour. For, as they had to use the mill and the bakery own by their lord, they had to pay “taxes”. These taxes took form in their production of their crops. Their cheese (for pasturing their cattle in the lord’s field), their flour and grain for using the mill and bakery served as taxes to pay the lord. These peasants lived on the verge of starvation continually.
They had but 2 major holidays in one year- Easter and Christmas. They were then invited to dine in their lord’s house for a feast. During Christmas, they had 2 weeks of vacation. Otherwise they had to work for at least 2-3 days a week, doing the lord’s work.
This is the basic structure of Feudalism in the 9th to the 13th Century. It was prevalent in Western Europe, but there were other countries that practiced it.
Home is where our hearts are
People seek thrills, excitement and adventure, and those are precisely the reasons why activities such as bungee jumping and drag-racing are becoming increasingly popular. People looking for exotic elixirs, or whopping deals haunt the shopping mall. But sadly, society forgets, or rather, discards the idea of home being anything but dull and unexciting, unable to offer new and brilliant things to stir us out of our listlessness. This is not true at all. Home is a place of love, comfort, unity, shelter and refuge.
The modern day’s preconceived notion of home shines the spotlight on all the wrong places, and deliberately belittles the very attributes which make it a home. Home is not dull. If you were to pay my family a visit, you’d agree with that statement. Uproarious noises made at the farthest end, echo through the entire house! Children will play, you know, and whether an accident or mischief turned all wrong, spillage, mess and destruction are sure to occur. Since when were sofas made of boisterous-kids rip-free material? Kids especially love ‘tip-toey’ games, the sort that requires sneaking around parents etc. Unfortunately, they occasionally fail their missions, and crash into parents serving guests with hot coffee or tea! I think my mum might go so far to say that more adventures are to be found at home than elsewhere.
But even in a home where there are no children, adventure may still be found. The thrill of adventure comes from the fact that a rare opportunity is a rare find, each coming of it to be cherished. An everyday occurrence ceases to be an adventure. Old couples look forward to the arrival of their nieces and nephews if not children or grandchildren, because they do not get such a visit every day. The excitement of a visit for them is equivalent to the average adult’s thrill of standing on the verge of a cliff and being told to jump, with a safety rope attached to them. It is probably the most they can manage anyway, at the time of their lives. How can people call home boring? Either anticipating the rush of air the body plunges down, or eagerly awaiting the long dreamed of arrival of grandchildren and drinking in the deep pleasure the smiles and antics those kids bring- causes the familiar head pounding and blood racing sensation. It is no wonder grandparents sink back in exhaustion after a bout of ‘post-visit flu’.
Over-excitement wearies a young body, so how much more will it weary an older person? Home is meant to be a place of relaxation, of rest. No one can possibly rest in a home filled with noise from morning to night. The opposite indeed will happen: the family’s stress level rises. The ideal home is a quiet house, warm, comfortable and friendly. Did you know houses can be friendly? We can step into a house and immediately sense whether we are welcome. A bright, cheery and warm tint to the house enhances the hospitable reception given to a guest. On the other hand, unfriendly homes cause goose bumps to creep along the upper arm. The host/hostess may actually welcome us the best they can, but still, there is this feeling of antagonism about the house, a feeling undefined, but there. The house usually reflects on the owners, too. The furniture arrangement, the mix of colours, whether warm or cool, the layout of the house, and the tidiness, all contribute to defining the owners and the way they live. “See a bear in his own den before you judge of his conditions; come, live with me and you’ll know me.”
Another aspect of home that people take for granted is its comfort. Imagine coming home from work on a wet and blustery cold night, shivering from top to toe, and you turn round the street corner in expectation of seeing the warm glow of a little house with the pretty bit of shrubbery at the front, but instead see nothing, absolute desolation. Well I don’t know about you, but I would certainly value my home a lot more after spending that freezing night out in the streets cold, dirty and lonely. The value of the little dear, quiet nook near the chimney place, albeit so ‘boring’ would inflate sky-high …
There is always a certain sense of security about home, which can never really be done away with. It is our den- the place where we bathe, eat, sleep, and relax, and do the other nitty-gritty details which make it a home. One may stay in a fantastic resort, or indeed even a luxury hotel for 6 months, and yet I guarantee that at the end of those 6 months, the urge to go home will be strong as if you just finished work, weary and hungry. Why? For one thing, a resort, however fantastic it may be, does not have the same security as a home. You own the home. You know it inside out; you arranged the furniture, and everything in the house belongs to you, barring a robber’s den, which gives you a sense of comfort and security. Your home will be there. Its location will not change, and neither will its objects. However, in a resort, you only have what you brought, and even 6 months of familiarity with the place will not change the innate desire for home, the burning sensation which eventually drives you to pack your bags and leave for home.
However, the most important thing about the home is neither the furniture, nor the beauty of the garden, or even the warm fuzzy glow the hearth emits. No. The most valuable thing about home is the relationships you build in it. We share our home with family, children and relatives. To invite someone into a home is to offer protection and care. The host/hostess trusts the guest. To harm the family after partaking with them is treachery of the blackest kind. After a long day with strangers, we like to return home to dwell in the love, protection and care of our family, and have them fuss over us in concern. This sort of attention we can never have enough of. We desire to be close to the people we love, to share our security with them, to help them and care for them. That is what a home is ultimately made of- deeply forged relationships that will last, even beyond the structure of the house.
Home is where our heart is. Probably where our heart is, our future is too. Jesus knew this when He observed, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Our family is our treasure, and our heart naturally follows after what it longs for. Family is home. Home may seem dreary without all the alluring excitement of the outside world, but it is ultimately the best place to be. To be among family, friends, familiar objects, and have our own particular tastes and desires gratified in everyway- isn’t that what we all want? Even in our search for excitement and adventure? Realize the value of your home, for there is nothing quite like home.
The modern day’s preconceived notion of home shines the spotlight on all the wrong places, and deliberately belittles the very attributes which make it a home. Home is not dull. If you were to pay my family a visit, you’d agree with that statement. Uproarious noises made at the farthest end, echo through the entire house! Children will play, you know, and whether an accident or mischief turned all wrong, spillage, mess and destruction are sure to occur. Since when were sofas made of boisterous-kids rip-free material? Kids especially love ‘tip-toey’ games, the sort that requires sneaking around parents etc. Unfortunately, they occasionally fail their missions, and crash into parents serving guests with hot coffee or tea! I think my mum might go so far to say that more adventures are to be found at home than elsewhere.
But even in a home where there are no children, adventure may still be found. The thrill of adventure comes from the fact that a rare opportunity is a rare find, each coming of it to be cherished. An everyday occurrence ceases to be an adventure. Old couples look forward to the arrival of their nieces and nephews if not children or grandchildren, because they do not get such a visit every day. The excitement of a visit for them is equivalent to the average adult’s thrill of standing on the verge of a cliff and being told to jump, with a safety rope attached to them. It is probably the most they can manage anyway, at the time of their lives. How can people call home boring? Either anticipating the rush of air the body plunges down, or eagerly awaiting the long dreamed of arrival of grandchildren and drinking in the deep pleasure the smiles and antics those kids bring- causes the familiar head pounding and blood racing sensation. It is no wonder grandparents sink back in exhaustion after a bout of ‘post-visit flu’.
Over-excitement wearies a young body, so how much more will it weary an older person? Home is meant to be a place of relaxation, of rest. No one can possibly rest in a home filled with noise from morning to night. The opposite indeed will happen: the family’s stress level rises. The ideal home is a quiet house, warm, comfortable and friendly. Did you know houses can be friendly? We can step into a house and immediately sense whether we are welcome. A bright, cheery and warm tint to the house enhances the hospitable reception given to a guest. On the other hand, unfriendly homes cause goose bumps to creep along the upper arm. The host/hostess may actually welcome us the best they can, but still, there is this feeling of antagonism about the house, a feeling undefined, but there. The house usually reflects on the owners, too. The furniture arrangement, the mix of colours, whether warm or cool, the layout of the house, and the tidiness, all contribute to defining the owners and the way they live. “See a bear in his own den before you judge of his conditions; come, live with me and you’ll know me.”
Another aspect of home that people take for granted is its comfort. Imagine coming home from work on a wet and blustery cold night, shivering from top to toe, and you turn round the street corner in expectation of seeing the warm glow of a little house with the pretty bit of shrubbery at the front, but instead see nothing, absolute desolation. Well I don’t know about you, but I would certainly value my home a lot more after spending that freezing night out in the streets cold, dirty and lonely. The value of the little dear, quiet nook near the chimney place, albeit so ‘boring’ would inflate sky-high …
There is always a certain sense of security about home, which can never really be done away with. It is our den- the place where we bathe, eat, sleep, and relax, and do the other nitty-gritty details which make it a home. One may stay in a fantastic resort, or indeed even a luxury hotel for 6 months, and yet I guarantee that at the end of those 6 months, the urge to go home will be strong as if you just finished work, weary and hungry. Why? For one thing, a resort, however fantastic it may be, does not have the same security as a home. You own the home. You know it inside out; you arranged the furniture, and everything in the house belongs to you, barring a robber’s den, which gives you a sense of comfort and security. Your home will be there. Its location will not change, and neither will its objects. However, in a resort, you only have what you brought, and even 6 months of familiarity with the place will not change the innate desire for home, the burning sensation which eventually drives you to pack your bags and leave for home.
However, the most important thing about the home is neither the furniture, nor the beauty of the garden, or even the warm fuzzy glow the hearth emits. No. The most valuable thing about home is the relationships you build in it. We share our home with family, children and relatives. To invite someone into a home is to offer protection and care. The host/hostess trusts the guest. To harm the family after partaking with them is treachery of the blackest kind. After a long day with strangers, we like to return home to dwell in the love, protection and care of our family, and have them fuss over us in concern. This sort of attention we can never have enough of. We desire to be close to the people we love, to share our security with them, to help them and care for them. That is what a home is ultimately made of- deeply forged relationships that will last, even beyond the structure of the house.
Home is where our heart is. Probably where our heart is, our future is too. Jesus knew this when He observed, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Our family is our treasure, and our heart naturally follows after what it longs for. Family is home. Home may seem dreary without all the alluring excitement of the outside world, but it is ultimately the best place to be. To be among family, friends, familiar objects, and have our own particular tastes and desires gratified in everyway- isn’t that what we all want? Even in our search for excitement and adventure? Realize the value of your home, for there is nothing quite like home.
How to bathe a baby
This was written sometime back, so that explains the lapses in the quality of this instructional essay. :D Have fun reading!
Because bathing a baby is an important skill which women, and even men will need to master completely, therefore you will have to pay close attention. We will go through step by step. Proverbs 19:20 says, “Listen to counsel, and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter days.”
It is vital that the water in the tub is not too hot or not too cold. Test the water with your wrists to see if it’s the right temperature, before filling the tub. Add the amount of soap needed for the amount of water used, (they will usually tell you the amount at the back of the soap bottle). Then, fill the tub with water, so that the tub/sink is about half full. (You don’t want the water to overflow when you put the baby in.) You may like to “throw” in a few toys for the baby to play with, (if he is old enough). Once this is done. Place a dry towel over the changing mat. Lie out the baby’s clothes, and get the diaper ready. You are now set.
After undressing the baby, carry the child over one arm, keeping the other free. Hold the baby over the sink, and rub some soap on his hair. Be really careful NOT to get soap into his/her eyes. The wash it off carefully, making sure it doesn’t get into the baby’s face. Once the head is washed, slowly lower the baby into the water. You must always hold the baby, when he or she is young. Even when they are able to sit up, you must at least watch the child vigilantly.
Begin to rub the body, cleaning away as much dirt as possible. The baby may kick up a fuss at first, because he may not like the water; but after some time, he will get used to it. Be sure to wash under the armpits and under the folds of skin- especially in the neck and above the thighs. Clean the backside of the baby properly. You may let him/her play with the toys while cleaning. It might help to quieten the baby if he or she is crying. Let the baby play in the water a little while, but not too long. Because they lose body heat quickly in the water, and might catch a cold, therefore they shouldn’t be in the water for too long a time.
When you think it’s time for the baby to come out, carry him/her above the water to drip dry for a few seconds. Quickly carry him/her to the towel on the changing mat, and place the child on it. It will be a good idea to have some toys to distract him with. Toys that produce sound will be excellent, especially if the baby starts wailing. Wrap the baby. Dry the child. You must be quick. The diapers or nappy is the first article of clothing that must be put on. After that, put on the other clothing- shirt, pants, dress, rompers, etc. Brush the hair/ comb the hair into a neat and fitting style. Bingo! The baby is fresh, and is ready for adventure!
It is important to master the art of bathing a baby properly. The bath cleanses the baby from dirt, dust and grime, and keeps the baby fresh, happy, comfortable and healthy! By learning the right procedure, you reduce the risk of drowning the child. I hope you find the information useful. Have fun!
Because bathing a baby is an important skill which women, and even men will need to master completely, therefore you will have to pay close attention. We will go through step by step. Proverbs 19:20 says, “Listen to counsel, and receive instruction, that you may be wise in your latter days.”
It is vital that the water in the tub is not too hot or not too cold. Test the water with your wrists to see if it’s the right temperature, before filling the tub. Add the amount of soap needed for the amount of water used, (they will usually tell you the amount at the back of the soap bottle). Then, fill the tub with water, so that the tub/sink is about half full. (You don’t want the water to overflow when you put the baby in.) You may like to “throw” in a few toys for the baby to play with, (if he is old enough). Once this is done. Place a dry towel over the changing mat. Lie out the baby’s clothes, and get the diaper ready. You are now set.
After undressing the baby, carry the child over one arm, keeping the other free. Hold the baby over the sink, and rub some soap on his hair. Be really careful NOT to get soap into his/her eyes. The wash it off carefully, making sure it doesn’t get into the baby’s face. Once the head is washed, slowly lower the baby into the water. You must always hold the baby, when he or she is young. Even when they are able to sit up, you must at least watch the child vigilantly.
Begin to rub the body, cleaning away as much dirt as possible. The baby may kick up a fuss at first, because he may not like the water; but after some time, he will get used to it. Be sure to wash under the armpits and under the folds of skin- especially in the neck and above the thighs. Clean the backside of the baby properly. You may let him/her play with the toys while cleaning. It might help to quieten the baby if he or she is crying. Let the baby play in the water a little while, but not too long. Because they lose body heat quickly in the water, and might catch a cold, therefore they shouldn’t be in the water for too long a time.
When you think it’s time for the baby to come out, carry him/her above the water to drip dry for a few seconds. Quickly carry him/her to the towel on the changing mat, and place the child on it. It will be a good idea to have some toys to distract him with. Toys that produce sound will be excellent, especially if the baby starts wailing. Wrap the baby. Dry the child. You must be quick. The diapers or nappy is the first article of clothing that must be put on. After that, put on the other clothing- shirt, pants, dress, rompers, etc. Brush the hair/ comb the hair into a neat and fitting style. Bingo! The baby is fresh, and is ready for adventure!
It is important to master the art of bathing a baby properly. The bath cleanses the baby from dirt, dust and grime, and keeps the baby fresh, happy, comfortable and healthy! By learning the right procedure, you reduce the risk of drowning the child. I hope you find the information useful. Have fun!
Movies vs Books
Movies are certainly not ‘wrong’; depending on the type of movie, they can be ‘good’ too. In fact, watching movies is one of my favourite ways of whiling away free time. I especially enjoy musicals. ‘My Fair Lady’ and ‘Sound of Music’ are some of my all-time favourites. However, books are an infinitely better way to pass extra time.
Watching a show requires very little effort. The only exertion required is for me to remain awake and to keep breathing- no particular difficulty if the director of the film did a good job, and if my heart is yet strong. However, when I am reading, my eyes have to process the letters, form them into words and then, a sentence. My brain then does the job of unravelling the meaning of the sentences. It muses over the words, twisting them in an attempt to fit the sentence, especially if the words have multiple meanings. Books stimulate; movies promote indolence.
I have often tried ineffectually to shake myself out of a heavy stupor after having watched a long movie, however exciting it may be. I offer no explanation for this, as I do not know the cause of the lethargy. But I do know from experience that this is not the case with books. I am aroused; my mind races to solve the mystery of a novel, my blood rushes, and my heart pounds for the hero/heroine. I am forced to take a stand on a controversial topic and judge for myself; the book has done a good thing. It has stirred up my human body’s insatiable demand for more knowledge, added to its fund of data, and expanded its outlook. Reading also frees the imagination, exercising the mind, allowing it to run wild in a given sphere.
Reading develops the intellect. I remember having a reading session in the assembly hall before lessons began. At that time, I thought it was merely a ruse to keep hundreds of kids quiet; but now I’m not so sure. It was a quiet activity which also benefited us kids. Reading improved my English. Watching authors express themselves, seeing the choice of their vocabulary, and later understanding the reasons of that choice gave me versatility in the language. Writing becomes as natural as speaking to an avid reader, because he has observed the art of an experienced writer, and learned to use his imagination creatively. To him, writing is almost second nature. On the other hand, movies do not expand one’s imagination. Imagination is caged up instead of given free rein, and is left to become stale and dull. In a movie, everything is served in a golden platter. My intellect and my physical body are indulged- there is no thinking done. Solving a mystery requires only my lingering a little longer, whereas in a book, it is usually not possible to devour all its pages in one day, no matter how voracious the reader is. Watching a movie is an unhealthy and inactive activity compared to reading.
A book makes a perfect gift, a timeless present, and an elegant ornament to any home. A fine library is a treasure trove indeed! Each richly bound volume of stories or data will be useful in its turn, either whiling away the hours so pleasantly one never knows where it went, or filling up the gaps in one’s knowledge. Whichever it is, the book will surely be put to good use. I usually read of antiquated books, (like Grandma’s hidden diary or something along that line,) always associated with something precious. But I have yet to hear of an antiquated movie which has increased in value with time. Directors of ‘old’ movies are long forgotten, erased with the new and uprising generation of shows. But names of authors such as Dickens, Austen and Shakespeare ring throughout history, their works always appreciated, and their memory kept sacred. Movies can hardly put up a fight, can they?
A movie interspersed between times can be refreshing, but a book is the master of all trades and the jack of none. It is a companion in solitude, an ornament to the home, and a feast for the intellect. Hooray for books, and a cheer for their creators!!!
Watching a show requires very little effort. The only exertion required is for me to remain awake and to keep breathing- no particular difficulty if the director of the film did a good job, and if my heart is yet strong. However, when I am reading, my eyes have to process the letters, form them into words and then, a sentence. My brain then does the job of unravelling the meaning of the sentences. It muses over the words, twisting them in an attempt to fit the sentence, especially if the words have multiple meanings. Books stimulate; movies promote indolence.
I have often tried ineffectually to shake myself out of a heavy stupor after having watched a long movie, however exciting it may be. I offer no explanation for this, as I do not know the cause of the lethargy. But I do know from experience that this is not the case with books. I am aroused; my mind races to solve the mystery of a novel, my blood rushes, and my heart pounds for the hero/heroine. I am forced to take a stand on a controversial topic and judge for myself; the book has done a good thing. It has stirred up my human body’s insatiable demand for more knowledge, added to its fund of data, and expanded its outlook. Reading also frees the imagination, exercising the mind, allowing it to run wild in a given sphere.
Reading develops the intellect. I remember having a reading session in the assembly hall before lessons began. At that time, I thought it was merely a ruse to keep hundreds of kids quiet; but now I’m not so sure. It was a quiet activity which also benefited us kids. Reading improved my English. Watching authors express themselves, seeing the choice of their vocabulary, and later understanding the reasons of that choice gave me versatility in the language. Writing becomes as natural as speaking to an avid reader, because he has observed the art of an experienced writer, and learned to use his imagination creatively. To him, writing is almost second nature. On the other hand, movies do not expand one’s imagination. Imagination is caged up instead of given free rein, and is left to become stale and dull. In a movie, everything is served in a golden platter. My intellect and my physical body are indulged- there is no thinking done. Solving a mystery requires only my lingering a little longer, whereas in a book, it is usually not possible to devour all its pages in one day, no matter how voracious the reader is. Watching a movie is an unhealthy and inactive activity compared to reading.
A book makes a perfect gift, a timeless present, and an elegant ornament to any home. A fine library is a treasure trove indeed! Each richly bound volume of stories or data will be useful in its turn, either whiling away the hours so pleasantly one never knows where it went, or filling up the gaps in one’s knowledge. Whichever it is, the book will surely be put to good use. I usually read of antiquated books, (like Grandma’s hidden diary or something along that line,) always associated with something precious. But I have yet to hear of an antiquated movie which has increased in value with time. Directors of ‘old’ movies are long forgotten, erased with the new and uprising generation of shows. But names of authors such as Dickens, Austen and Shakespeare ring throughout history, their works always appreciated, and their memory kept sacred. Movies can hardly put up a fight, can they?
A movie interspersed between times can be refreshing, but a book is the master of all trades and the jack of none. It is a companion in solitude, an ornament to the home, and a feast for the intellect. Hooray for books, and a cheer for their creators!!!
Wish not so much to live long as to live well
“Wish not so much to live long as to live well.” Benjamin Franklin might have written this in regret of his long but traitorous life, for he did not grasp this concept well. Beginning as a humble but honest apprentice to a printer, he soon accumulated enough money to begin his own print business, and eventually served as President in the Executive Council of Pennsylvania. He began well. However, later on in his life, during the independence war, he worked as a double spy for both the American and British armies. Pretending to be a friend to both sides, he gathered their secrets and sold them to the other country. John Addams discovered this after the war, but dropped the case and released him scot-free because of the popularity he had with the American citizens. (This popularity began ever since he established his own print business, for Franklin both wrote and spoke well and soon won attention from the American world for his editorials, essays and commentaries. The fact that he rose to the position of Grand Master in a Freemason lodge after only 3 years of initiation, indicated his great fame.) Perhaps looking back in his life, he regretted this treacherous act which not only blackened his hereto spotless reputation, but also probably caused him a few sleepless nights, and thus wrote, “Wish not so much to live long as to live well”, to warn other youths from making the same mistake he made.
We all have many decisions to make in life, and we must beware of making the wrong choices, because every decision has its consequences. At the end of our lives, we may either look back with remorse or regret at our unproductive life, or we may look back with joy and contentment at our satisfied lives. It is better to live a short, fulfilled and happy life, than a long, dissipated and miserable one.
Methuselah, Noah’s grandfather lived long, the longest anyone on earth ever lived; but he did not live well. The Bible says that God saw “the wickedness of man [was] great in the earth, and [that] every imagination of the thoughts of his heart [was] only evil continually,” and that God repented of ever creating mankind. The Bible did not record exactly what Methuselah thought and did, but it did record that everyone else beside Noah and his family perished in the Great Flood. Because Methuselah did not make the right choice to follow Noah’s preaching to repent of his wickedness, he perished in the flood. (You can calculate this by adding the years of Methuselah’s age when he had a son named Lamech, Lamech’s age when he had Noah, and Noah’s age when the flood came. The years you get and the years recorded in the Bible are exact— 969.) In comparison to his grandfather, Noah lived a short life, but he lived well. Noah obeyed God, and was spared the catastrophe of the rest of his world. He also received an unprecedented blessing. Everyone born on the cleansed earth would come from him. He had the special privilege of being the ‘father’ of the nations.
Time never seems to do exactly as we wish. When we want it to stay, it moves at lightning speed, and when we want it to run, it walks. Have you ever found that time seems to fly by when you are occupied with something that you really enjoy? For example, in the morning when the alarm clock goes off, it seems that you’ve only just gone to bed 10 minutes ago, when in reality it has been 8 hours since you went to sleep! Or going out with friends, playing a game, etc—these all pass too soon. Think of one activity that you really enjoy doing. Would you rather live on earth for 2 hours doing that, or spend 12 years doing something you don’t like (chores, homework, errands, dentist visits)? I would pick the first. Why? Because even though it lasts only for a while, you are happy doing your favourite activity whereas you would not enjoy doing chores, homework, errands, or having your teeth drilled. In the same way, a short and happy life is like doing your favourite activity; while a long and tedious (maybe evil) life is drudgery.
Jesus only lived for 33 years on earth, yet because of his 33 years, all mankind can now be reconciled to the Father. He came to die the death we should have died, and take the scourges we should have had. Jesus took our sins upon the cross of Calvary, and paid for it all- with His life. Because of His life, we are now free to go to heaven (provided we make the right choice to believe and confess that He is Christ the Son of God, and that He died, was buried, and rose again by the power of the Father) and spend the rest of eternity with Him. He did that all in thirty-three years! Yes, He lived His short life to the maximum, and He lived it well. Jesus now sits at the right hand of the Father in heaven, because of what He did. So much cannot be said of King Henry the Eighth. With every material item he could ever want at his fingertips, he should have been happy. No. Instead, a more cantankerous, murderous and cruel king in the whole of England never ruled. He married 6 wives, 2 of whom he decapitated on fictitious grounds of treason because they did not bear him a son. As he grew older, the miserable king did not hesitate to kill anyone who crossed him. By the end of his life, Henry was a sad and lonely person, and he became terrified of getting ill. He lived for 56 years, (a ripe old age in the Tudor times), but by the time he died, everyone feared him and celebrated at his death.
However, not everyone will have to choose between a long and ‘bad’ life and a short but good life. There are people who live long and rich lives. God even promises longer days to those who fear the Lord, “The fear of the Lord prolongeth days: but the years of the wicked shall be shortened.” When we live in obedience to God’s commands, not only will we have the inner satisfaction of having lived well, but we will even have longer lives. Wow! What a bonus and blessing!
Earthly blessings should not be our only motivation to live well. After death, each of us will have to give an account of our doings to God, and He will judge us according to what we have done. If we believed and accepted the path Jesus made for us to heaven, then we would be free to enter heaven. But if we didn’t, we will go to hell. If we did well on earth, God will say, “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of the Lord.” But if we didn’t, He will cast us out into darkness where there are weeping and gnashing of teeth. It is added motivation to live well, isn’t it? No matter how long we get to live on earth, it is only a miniscule fraction of the time we will spend in either Heaven or Hell. We have the whole of eternity to reap the consequences of our acts on earth. We may enjoy ourselves on earth but not make the right decisions, and we will end up spending the rest of eternity reaping our desserts. On the other hand, living well, and obeying God on earth (even if it means persecution and pain) is far preferable to spending forever in hell. Our pain and persecution lasts for awhile on earth, but our not only does the Bible say our pain in hell is far, far worse than the most excruciating pain we’ve ever felt, but that it lasts forever. It never goes away.
We must not take our days on earth for granted. Besides the fact that we never know when we will die, we only have a specific time on earth to fulfil our purpose on earth, so we should not waste our days. We want to hear the welcome words, “Well done, good and faithful servant” when we meet God face to face. We want to please God with our doings on earth. That can be accomplished by living well but not necessarily by living long. That is what’s important- living well. “Wish not so much to live long as to live well.”
We all have many decisions to make in life, and we must beware of making the wrong choices, because every decision has its consequences. At the end of our lives, we may either look back with remorse or regret at our unproductive life, or we may look back with joy and contentment at our satisfied lives. It is better to live a short, fulfilled and happy life, than a long, dissipated and miserable one.
Methuselah, Noah’s grandfather lived long, the longest anyone on earth ever lived; but he did not live well. The Bible says that God saw “the wickedness of man [was] great in the earth, and [that] every imagination of the thoughts of his heart [was] only evil continually,” and that God repented of ever creating mankind. The Bible did not record exactly what Methuselah thought and did, but it did record that everyone else beside Noah and his family perished in the Great Flood. Because Methuselah did not make the right choice to follow Noah’s preaching to repent of his wickedness, he perished in the flood. (You can calculate this by adding the years of Methuselah’s age when he had a son named Lamech, Lamech’s age when he had Noah, and Noah’s age when the flood came. The years you get and the years recorded in the Bible are exact— 969.) In comparison to his grandfather, Noah lived a short life, but he lived well. Noah obeyed God, and was spared the catastrophe of the rest of his world. He also received an unprecedented blessing. Everyone born on the cleansed earth would come from him. He had the special privilege of being the ‘father’ of the nations.
Time never seems to do exactly as we wish. When we want it to stay, it moves at lightning speed, and when we want it to run, it walks. Have you ever found that time seems to fly by when you are occupied with something that you really enjoy? For example, in the morning when the alarm clock goes off, it seems that you’ve only just gone to bed 10 minutes ago, when in reality it has been 8 hours since you went to sleep! Or going out with friends, playing a game, etc—these all pass too soon. Think of one activity that you really enjoy doing. Would you rather live on earth for 2 hours doing that, or spend 12 years doing something you don’t like (chores, homework, errands, dentist visits)? I would pick the first. Why? Because even though it lasts only for a while, you are happy doing your favourite activity whereas you would not enjoy doing chores, homework, errands, or having your teeth drilled. In the same way, a short and happy life is like doing your favourite activity; while a long and tedious (maybe evil) life is drudgery.
Jesus only lived for 33 years on earth, yet because of his 33 years, all mankind can now be reconciled to the Father. He came to die the death we should have died, and take the scourges we should have had. Jesus took our sins upon the cross of Calvary, and paid for it all- with His life. Because of His life, we are now free to go to heaven (provided we make the right choice to believe and confess that He is Christ the Son of God, and that He died, was buried, and rose again by the power of the Father) and spend the rest of eternity with Him. He did that all in thirty-three years! Yes, He lived His short life to the maximum, and He lived it well. Jesus now sits at the right hand of the Father in heaven, because of what He did. So much cannot be said of King Henry the Eighth. With every material item he could ever want at his fingertips, he should have been happy. No. Instead, a more cantankerous, murderous and cruel king in the whole of England never ruled. He married 6 wives, 2 of whom he decapitated on fictitious grounds of treason because they did not bear him a son. As he grew older, the miserable king did not hesitate to kill anyone who crossed him. By the end of his life, Henry was a sad and lonely person, and he became terrified of getting ill. He lived for 56 years, (a ripe old age in the Tudor times), but by the time he died, everyone feared him and celebrated at his death.
However, not everyone will have to choose between a long and ‘bad’ life and a short but good life. There are people who live long and rich lives. God even promises longer days to those who fear the Lord, “The fear of the Lord prolongeth days: but the years of the wicked shall be shortened.” When we live in obedience to God’s commands, not only will we have the inner satisfaction of having lived well, but we will even have longer lives. Wow! What a bonus and blessing!
Earthly blessings should not be our only motivation to live well. After death, each of us will have to give an account of our doings to God, and He will judge us according to what we have done. If we believed and accepted the path Jesus made for us to heaven, then we would be free to enter heaven. But if we didn’t, we will go to hell. If we did well on earth, God will say, “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of the Lord.” But if we didn’t, He will cast us out into darkness where there are weeping and gnashing of teeth. It is added motivation to live well, isn’t it? No matter how long we get to live on earth, it is only a miniscule fraction of the time we will spend in either Heaven or Hell. We have the whole of eternity to reap the consequences of our acts on earth. We may enjoy ourselves on earth but not make the right decisions, and we will end up spending the rest of eternity reaping our desserts. On the other hand, living well, and obeying God on earth (even if it means persecution and pain) is far preferable to spending forever in hell. Our pain and persecution lasts for awhile on earth, but our not only does the Bible say our pain in hell is far, far worse than the most excruciating pain we’ve ever felt, but that it lasts forever. It never goes away.
We must not take our days on earth for granted. Besides the fact that we never know when we will die, we only have a specific time on earth to fulfil our purpose on earth, so we should not waste our days. We want to hear the welcome words, “Well done, good and faithful servant” when we meet God face to face. We want to please God with our doings on earth. That can be accomplished by living well but not necessarily by living long. That is what’s important- living well. “Wish not so much to live long as to live well.”
Did she write thrillers?!
Everyone in the literary world knows Louisa May Alcott. Just mention her name, and someone is bound to say, “Oh yeah! I really enjoyed ‘Little Women’ and ‘Good Wives’!” Perhaps some might even have heard about ‘Little Men’ and her other lesser known works such as ‘Jo’s Boys’, ‘Eight Cousins’ or ‘Under the Lilacs’. But if I mention her thrillers, I get blank stares; underneath which they are probably thinking, “Thrillers? This girl must have gotten her facts wrong! Alcott never wrote any thrillers!”
In fact, I have a complete volume of her known thrillers right under my nose as I write this. Like her fictional character Jo, Alcott felt ashamed of her sensational output, because the materials of her stories- bloodlust, hatred and revenge, were not good food for the young minds who devoured them. So Alcott concealed her authorship under numerous pseudonyms. Her most popular pseudonym is A. M. Barnard. Not until after her death did her traitorous journals give away the secret. However, when letters from her publishers were found, the suspicions turned into convictions. Several editors and literary ‘big shots’ set about compiling all her thrillers, and substituted the mysterious A. M. Barnard with the unmasked L. M. Alcott. Recently published with her name, the stories found more popularity than they previously did. Alcott’s thrillers are published in several volumes. The one I have is titled Unmasked (to signify the discovery of Alcott’s authorship); it contains all of her known thrillers in one book. However, smaller volumes are sold with only a few choice stories in them. I chanced on one of these in the library, and loved the stories so much I decided to buy the whole volume!
The success of her thrillers is due to the exquisite touch she gives each character, imbuing them with the power of pent up emotion, mystery, rivalry and intrigue occurring in exotic backdrops, which adds to tension without being disgusting, gross or scary.
High-voltage emotion is evident in the following passage from ‘Pauline’s Passion and Punishment’:
Her use of powerful, speaking verbs and adjectives, and her elimination of excess verbiage, (indeed, one would be hard pressed to find a single sentence which could be removed without detracting from the plot), empower her writing, giving it visual life and strength. See her use of adjectives in, “On the strong white arms, folded underneath her head, appeared dark bruises— self-inflicted doubtless— a quantity of curling, auburn hair streamed about her, tangled and neglected; her lips were closely shut, and wearily drooping lids half hid the strangest eyes I ever saw.” and also in this passage, “Bending over the sleeper was a woman robed in barbaric splendour.” One can almost imagine the mysteriously pitiful image the former sentence creates, and, in contrast, the woman so extravagantly dressed as to be almost barbaric.
Another ‘popularity-boost’ of her stories is her penchant for complete yet suspenseful endings. The reader wants to know what happened after, except that they will have to imagine the ending themselves. This is how Pauline’s Passion and Punishment ended:
That’s it; the story ends there. It keeps the reader in suspense. What is going to happen now? And of course there is nothing more to read. It leaves the reader with a sense of completeness, yet anticipation which eases off gradually, remaining long enough to stir interest in the rest of her other stories.
In her thrillers, Alcott delves into the realm of magnetism and drug usage several times. She was well qualified to do so, as she worked as a nurse during the American Civil War, and had ample opportunity to observe the effect that drugs had on people. She was also well versed with the soothing and soporific effect Magnetism had on maniacs. She applied most of this knowledge in her stories, giving her characters an air of authority in these areas. In ‘A Marble Woman’, the heroine resorts to taking opium to help school her conduct to the enforced restraint and quiet exacted by man she loves. He only discovered this after she ran out of opium and took an overdose of laudanum in its place.
'A Pair of Eyes’ opens up a totally new world to the reader, as it did to its main character.
Doesn’t she write magnificently! I wish I could write as well as her. She weaves her plots with so much skill that one is inevitably drawn into the web of conspiracies, as a fly is drawn to light. With dialogues which reveal the depth of passion, with dark heroes and heroines playing a deep game, either bent on revenge or on gaining the hand of their beloved, triumphing over their rivals—the ‘blood-and-thunder’ tales are a ‘must get’ for any Alcott fan! Phone the nearest bookstore and order a volume immediately- you’ll love it.
In fact, I have a complete volume of her known thrillers right under my nose as I write this. Like her fictional character Jo, Alcott felt ashamed of her sensational output, because the materials of her stories- bloodlust, hatred and revenge, were not good food for the young minds who devoured them. So Alcott concealed her authorship under numerous pseudonyms. Her most popular pseudonym is A. M. Barnard. Not until after her death did her traitorous journals give away the secret. However, when letters from her publishers were found, the suspicions turned into convictions. Several editors and literary ‘big shots’ set about compiling all her thrillers, and substituted the mysterious A. M. Barnard with the unmasked L. M. Alcott. Recently published with her name, the stories found more popularity than they previously did. Alcott’s thrillers are published in several volumes. The one I have is titled Unmasked (to signify the discovery of Alcott’s authorship); it contains all of her known thrillers in one book. However, smaller volumes are sold with only a few choice stories in them. I chanced on one of these in the library, and loved the stories so much I decided to buy the whole volume!
The success of her thrillers is due to the exquisite touch she gives each character, imbuing them with the power of pent up emotion, mystery, rivalry and intrigue occurring in exotic backdrops, which adds to tension without being disgusting, gross or scary.
High-voltage emotion is evident in the following passage from ‘Pauline’s Passion and Punishment’:
“To and fro, like a wild creature in its cage, paced that handsome woman, with bent head, locked hands, and restless steps…”I was absolutely hooked from the moment I set eyes on that passage. These very words beckoned and lured me along the rest of the story, as it did the readers so long ago. It is agreed by the researchers that The Rival Painters in Little Women which won Jo March the $100 dollars cheque was really an undercover name for this thriller. Alcott did really win prize money for this story. Alcott wrote storied much like these ones to help support her family. The ‘blood and thunder’ stories which appeared in the side columns of the evening papers of the time were hugely enjoyed by the society, but to no one knew who to give credit to.
Her use of powerful, speaking verbs and adjectives, and her elimination of excess verbiage, (indeed, one would be hard pressed to find a single sentence which could be removed without detracting from the plot), empower her writing, giving it visual life and strength. See her use of adjectives in, “On the strong white arms, folded underneath her head, appeared dark bruises— self-inflicted doubtless— a quantity of curling, auburn hair streamed about her, tangled and neglected; her lips were closely shut, and wearily drooping lids half hid the strangest eyes I ever saw.” and also in this passage, “Bending over the sleeper was a woman robed in barbaric splendour.” One can almost imagine the mysteriously pitiful image the former sentence creates, and, in contrast, the woman so extravagantly dressed as to be almost barbaric.
Another ‘popularity-boost’ of her stories is her penchant for complete yet suspenseful endings. The reader wants to know what happened after, except that they will have to imagine the ending themselves. This is how Pauline’s Passion and Punishment ended:
“So swift and sure had been the act it left no time for help. A rush, a plunge, a pause, and then two figures stood where four had been—a man and woman staring dumbly at each other, appalled at the dread silence that made high noon more ghostly than the deepest night. And with that moment of impotent horror, remorse, and woe, Pauline’s long punishment began.”
That’s it; the story ends there. It keeps the reader in suspense. What is going to happen now? And of course there is nothing more to read. It leaves the reader with a sense of completeness, yet anticipation which eases off gradually, remaining long enough to stir interest in the rest of her other stories.
In her thrillers, Alcott delves into the realm of magnetism and drug usage several times. She was well qualified to do so, as she worked as a nurse during the American Civil War, and had ample opportunity to observe the effect that drugs had on people. She was also well versed with the soothing and soporific effect Magnetism had on maniacs. She applied most of this knowledge in her stories, giving her characters an air of authority in these areas. In ‘A Marble Woman’, the heroine resorts to taking opium to help school her conduct to the enforced restraint and quiet exacted by man she loves. He only discovered this after she ran out of opium and took an overdose of laudanum in its place.
“Stooping, he whispered gently yet urgently, ‘Cecil, wake up, it is time.’ But there was no sign of waking, and nothing stirred by the faint flutter of her breath. He raised her, brushed the damp hair from her forehead, and cried in a voice tremulous with fear, ‘My darling, speak to me!’ But she lay mute and motionless… [The Doctor] asked, ‘Do you keep laudanum in this house? “I’ve had some that I’ve had a long time. I’ll get it for you.” And Yorke was gone in spite of Victorine’s offer of assistance. But he returned with a fresh anxiety, for the little flask was empty.”
'A Pair of Eyes’ opens up a totally new world to the reader, as it did to its main character.
“One day I resolved to bear it no longer, and hurried away to an old friend whose skill and discretion I had entire faith. He was out, and while I waited I took up a book that lay among the medical works upon his table. I read a page, then a chapter, turning leaf after leaf with a rapid hand, devouring paragraph after paragraph with an eager eye. An hour passed, still I read on, Dr. L— did not come, but I did not think of that, and when I laid down the book, I no longer needed him, for in that hour I had discovered a new world, had seen the diagnosis of my symptoms set forth in unmistakable terms, and found the key to the mystery in the one word— Magnetism.”
Doesn’t she write magnificently! I wish I could write as well as her. She weaves her plots with so much skill that one is inevitably drawn into the web of conspiracies, as a fly is drawn to light. With dialogues which reveal the depth of passion, with dark heroes and heroines playing a deep game, either bent on revenge or on gaining the hand of their beloved, triumphing over their rivals—the ‘blood-and-thunder’ tales are a ‘must get’ for any Alcott fan! Phone the nearest bookstore and order a volume immediately- you’ll love it.
The Pain Killer
Chop, chop, chop... the almost mechanic and rhythmic sound from the chopping knife resounded in the kitchen. The mother dreamily smiled to herself. She gleefully anticipated the delight on her child's face when she finds out that they are going to have her favourite for dinner- Spaghetti Bolognaise. Her five year old had always gone into whoops over it, and the mother couldn't wait! She glanced over at the clock on the wall and read, "five o'clock." Anytime soon and her husband would be back. The feeling warmed her heart.
Suddenly however, the rhythmic beat paused, and silence filled the air. A pungent smell had reached her sensitive nose, and her hurried around to the boiling pot, worried that her sauce had gone bad. But no, the sauce bubbled nicely- and ohhhh!- smelt lovelier than ever. (If a sauce can smell lovely.)
She stood in a puzzled state- where on earth was that horrid burnt smell coming from?
"Ashleigh! Ashleigh honey- are you alright?" A bright gurgle of laughter reassured her, and she continued her chopping. However, the smell would not go away. Instead, it intensified. Piqued and annoyed, the mother set her knife down, and her nose to the work. Hurrying through the corridor, she checked the sitting room- it looked fine, and the smell was not coming from there. The bedrooms looked fine too. She came to Ashleigh's room. Everything looked fine- everything except that Ashleigh wasn't there.
"Ashleigh? Ashleigh?" When no reply came back, the alarmed mother rushed to the only room left unchecked- the laundry. The smell got worse.
What a sight met the poor mother's eyes as she opened the door. There Ashleigh sat on the floor grinning from ear to ear (well, what was left of it) with a iron in one hand.
While playing, she had happened on the iron in the laundry- which the mother had left on. She tried to grasp it- at the wrong end- and found that she couldn't pick it up easily. Her hand couldn't fit across the flat of the iron. So she was about to shift her grasp when she caught sight of her palm, swelling and reddening. Interested, she stuck her other hand to the iron and pulled away. The same thing happened. Wow- she was really intrigued. What was this machine that caused her to change colour and become big? Suddenly, she had an idea. Her dad had promised to take her to the fancy restaurant with mommy when she grew 'bigger'.
"Ah ha! He won't recognise me when he comes home! I'm going to be big!" So thinking, she applied the hot iron to the remaining parts of her body.
True enough, her dad did NOT recognise his sunny little Ashleigh some 10 minutes later when he returned from work. In fact, he stepped into a kitchen to find the bolognaise sauce boiling over on the floor, and no sign of his wife. His heart dropped.
"Dear? The sauce..." but he got no further, for he was arrested by wailing sirens and lights drawing up his driveway.
"What the?" It was an ambulance, and the emergency team was already rushing up the steps and banging on the door. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. What had been happening? A lightning figure rushed to the door and opened it. "
"Hurry, Hurry"- the figure sobbed-"she's over here." It was his wife, he realized some 10 seconds later. But he didn't have time. In fact, since he stepped through the door of his home, time became an obsolete factor.
In the next 3 hours, he saw his little girl wheeled into the emergency unit, and anxiously pored over by the doctors. He saw the 3rd degree burns his darling had inflicted on herself. How had she done it? Why didn't she stop at the first sting of pain? Was she mad? He saw his wife bearing with heroic fortitude through it all, through the surgery and examination. He watched the door of the operating room shut, and waited an everlasting time for it to open again. How funny- time seems to be playing tricks- it was too short before, and now it's too long. He saw the white-washed door of the room where his sunshine lay, finally open; a figure clothed in white walked out. An angel? No, it couldn't be. Angels never wore puffy green caps like this person did.
"Hello? Are you the parents of Ashleigh?" The doctor.
He saw the mouth of the doctor open and close, making noises. But not sense.
"I regret to inform you that Ashleigh has Seper, a disease that plays havoc with the nervous system, causing insensitivity to pain. In other words, when Ashleigh put the hot iron on herself, she felt no pain. She has the pain killer, Cepa."
~
They never got to eat that Bolognaise.
Suddenly however, the rhythmic beat paused, and silence filled the air. A pungent smell had reached her sensitive nose, and her hurried around to the boiling pot, worried that her sauce had gone bad. But no, the sauce bubbled nicely- and ohhhh!- smelt lovelier than ever. (If a sauce can smell lovely.)
She stood in a puzzled state- where on earth was that horrid burnt smell coming from?
"Ashleigh! Ashleigh honey- are you alright?" A bright gurgle of laughter reassured her, and she continued her chopping. However, the smell would not go away. Instead, it intensified. Piqued and annoyed, the mother set her knife down, and her nose to the work. Hurrying through the corridor, she checked the sitting room- it looked fine, and the smell was not coming from there. The bedrooms looked fine too. She came to Ashleigh's room. Everything looked fine- everything except that Ashleigh wasn't there.
"Ashleigh? Ashleigh?" When no reply came back, the alarmed mother rushed to the only room left unchecked- the laundry. The smell got worse.
What a sight met the poor mother's eyes as she opened the door. There Ashleigh sat on the floor grinning from ear to ear (well, what was left of it) with a iron in one hand.
While playing, she had happened on the iron in the laundry- which the mother had left on. She tried to grasp it- at the wrong end- and found that she couldn't pick it up easily. Her hand couldn't fit across the flat of the iron. So she was about to shift her grasp when she caught sight of her palm, swelling and reddening. Interested, she stuck her other hand to the iron and pulled away. The same thing happened. Wow- she was really intrigued. What was this machine that caused her to change colour and become big? Suddenly, she had an idea. Her dad had promised to take her to the fancy restaurant with mommy when she grew 'bigger'.
"Ah ha! He won't recognise me when he comes home! I'm going to be big!" So thinking, she applied the hot iron to the remaining parts of her body.
True enough, her dad did NOT recognise his sunny little Ashleigh some 10 minutes later when he returned from work. In fact, he stepped into a kitchen to find the bolognaise sauce boiling over on the floor, and no sign of his wife. His heart dropped.
"Dear? The sauce..." but he got no further, for he was arrested by wailing sirens and lights drawing up his driveway.
"What the?" It was an ambulance, and the emergency team was already rushing up the steps and banging on the door. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. What had been happening? A lightning figure rushed to the door and opened it. "
"Hurry, Hurry"- the figure sobbed-"she's over here." It was his wife, he realized some 10 seconds later. But he didn't have time. In fact, since he stepped through the door of his home, time became an obsolete factor.
In the next 3 hours, he saw his little girl wheeled into the emergency unit, and anxiously pored over by the doctors. He saw the 3rd degree burns his darling had inflicted on herself. How had she done it? Why didn't she stop at the first sting of pain? Was she mad? He saw his wife bearing with heroic fortitude through it all, through the surgery and examination. He watched the door of the operating room shut, and waited an everlasting time for it to open again. How funny- time seems to be playing tricks- it was too short before, and now it's too long. He saw the white-washed door of the room where his sunshine lay, finally open; a figure clothed in white walked out. An angel? No, it couldn't be. Angels never wore puffy green caps like this person did.
"Hello? Are you the parents of Ashleigh?" The doctor.
He saw the mouth of the doctor open and close, making noises. But not sense.
"I regret to inform you that Ashleigh has Seper, a disease that plays havoc with the nervous system, causing insensitivity to pain. In other words, when Ashleigh put the hot iron on herself, she felt no pain. She has the pain killer, Cepa."
~
They never got to eat that Bolognaise.
The absurd and comic
(So that I am not plagiarising, this is from Freedom and Fulfillment by Joel Feinburg, published by Princeton University Press in 1992. This excerpt is taken from the last Chapter, 'The absurd and the comic', page 336.)
A man enters an elegant bakery shop on Fifth Avenue and makes a special order, with down payments, of a multitier frosted cake baked in the shape of the letter S. The skeptical baker complains that the ordered cake is too big, and that its awkward shape will require that a specially made tin plate be ordered, at considerable cost.
"Don't worry," says the customer, "I'm in no hurry, and I don't care about the expense."
A week later on the appointed day, he returns to pick up the cake, but he is disappointed with what he finds. The S is a script S. He had failed to mention that he wanted a capital S. The following week he returns again, but once more changes his order. Now he wants a German gothic S. It takes a month to make and bake the case, but alas, it is an italic S- all wrong. But the customer's patience is inexhaustible. He gladly pays the expenses of a German medieval historian to consult on the exact shade of pink frosting lead to further delays and false starts, but six months after the original roder was made a satisfactory cake is produced. The customer, beside himself with delight, writes a check for $23,479.21. The equally delighted store owner thanks him warmly and asks,
"Can you transport it yourself or should I box it here and have it delivered to your address?"
"Oh, don't bother wrapping it," says the customer, "I'll eat it here."
A man enters an elegant bakery shop on Fifth Avenue and makes a special order, with down payments, of a multitier frosted cake baked in the shape of the letter S. The skeptical baker complains that the ordered cake is too big, and that its awkward shape will require that a specially made tin plate be ordered, at considerable cost.
"Don't worry," says the customer, "I'm in no hurry, and I don't care about the expense."
A week later on the appointed day, he returns to pick up the cake, but he is disappointed with what he finds. The S is a script S. He had failed to mention that he wanted a capital S. The following week he returns again, but once more changes his order. Now he wants a German gothic S. It takes a month to make and bake the case, but alas, it is an italic S- all wrong. But the customer's patience is inexhaustible. He gladly pays the expenses of a German medieval historian to consult on the exact shade of pink frosting lead to further delays and false starts, but six months after the original roder was made a satisfactory cake is produced. The customer, beside himself with delight, writes a check for $23,479.21. The equally delighted store owner thanks him warmly and asks,
"Can you transport it yourself or should I box it here and have it delivered to your address?"
"Oh, don't bother wrapping it," says the customer, "I'll eat it here."
Zany Thoughts, Sayings and Proverbs
Do the best when you can, while you can. You will never know when your chance will be taken away.
The best chance you have for impacting others and making a use of your life is now.
There is no better time than now.
The hardest obstacle is always the second to the last.
Life is a joy in itself.
You will never appreciate the true value of friendship until you have no friends left.
If there was a limitation to the amount of friendship one can give, making new friends is stealing from another's heart.
Thank goodness we have 'Rs' or we have have fiends, not friends.
From Rob:
"I read somewhere that 77 per cent of all the mentally ill live
in poverty. Actually, I'm more intrigued by the 23 per cent who
are apparently doing quite well for themselves." - Jerry Garcia
"Last night as I lay in bed looking at the stars I thought,
'Where the hell is the ceiling?'" - Chris Unger
"Don't be humble. You're not that great."
- Golda Meir
"Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus
handicapped." - Elbert Hubbard
"They say hard work never hurt anybody, but I figure why take
the chance." - Ronald Reagan
"Facts are stupid things."
- Ronald Reagan (attempting to quote John Adams, who said "Facts are stubborn things.")
"...quemadmodum gladius neminem occidit, occidentis telum est."
- (Lucius Annaeus) Seneca "the Younger" (ca. 4 BC-65 AD),
"A gentleman never insults anyone unintentionally."
- Oscar Wilde, in conversation
"Space isn't remote at all. It's only an hour's drive away if
your car could go straight upwards."
- Sir Fred Hoyle, "London Observer," 1979
"A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it
is for other people."
- Thomas Mann, "Essays of Three Decades," 1947
"I would like to take you seriously but to do so would affront
your intelligence." - William F. Buckley, Jr.
"Death is just nature's way of telling you, 'Hey, you're not
alive anymore.'" - Bull Shannon
Proverbs:
Oneliners and Proverbs
Words
"He that hath knowledge spareth his words: [and] a man of understanding is of an excellent spirit. Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: [and] he that shutteth his lips [is esteemed] a man of understanding. " Proverbs 17:27-28
- Speech is silver, but silence is golden
- Silence us wise if we are foolish, but foolish if we are wise
- Silence is a woman's best garment
- Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can shatter my soul.
Friendship
"A man [that hath] friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend [that] sticketh closer than a brother." Proverbs 18:24
- So many people will walk in and out of your life, but those who leave foot prints are true friends.
- Friends are chocolate chips in the cookie of life!
- Friends are like puzzle pieces, if one goes away, that special piece can never be replaced and that puzzle will never be whole again
- Friendship is a golden chain, the links are friends so dear, and like a rare and precious jewel It's treasured more each year.
Smile
"A merry heart doeth good [like] a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones."
Proverbs 17:22
- You don't stop laughing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop laughing. 'Michael Pritchard'
- Smile! It increases your face value.
- Smile.... it makes others wonder what you're thinking.
Determination
- Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss you will land among the stars. 'Les Brown'
- Snowflakes are one of natures most fragile things, but just look what they can do when they stick together. 'Vista M. Kelly'
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