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8 episodes with when mrs
9 episodes with when mrs
2 episodes with when mrs
2 episodes with when mrs
2 episodes with when mrs
2 episodes with when mrs
3 episodes with when mrs
2 episodes with when mrs
2 episodes with when mrs
Westerns on a TuesdayFirst a look at the events of the dayThen Fort Laramie starring Raymond Burr, originally broadcast April 22, 1956, 68 years ago, The New Recruit. The story of a man who was in the army...but never really a soldier, who re-enlists, but for a strange reason. Followed by the news from 68 years ago, then Gunsmoke starring William Conrad, originally broadcast April 22, 1956, 68 years ago, Indian Crazy. Mr. and Mrs. Jallup move onto their new ranch after a fellow rancher and Marshal Dillon tell them that there are no Indians around. When Mrs. Jallup is killed, her husband kills the neighboring rancher for revenge...and Marshal Dillon is next!Then The Six Shooter starring Jimmy Stewart, originally broadcast April 22, 1954, 71 years ago, Johnny Springer. Clerk Sid Tucker has been shot. He identifies Johnny Stringer as the killer. The trail leads to the cabin of a beautiful senorita.Followed by The Tom Mix Ralston Straightshooters, originally broadcast April 22, 1947, 78 years ago, The Mystery of the Woman in Gray. Caesar Ciano plans to take over the town of Dobie. Griselda Gray has her own ideas about Mr. Ciano.Finally, The Challenge of the Yukon, originally broadcast April 22, 1944, 81 years ago, Bell Brady's Gesture. Thanks to Honeywell for supporting our podcast by using the Buy Me a Coffee function at http://classicradio.streamIf you like what we do here, visit our friend Jay at http://radio.macinmind.com for great old time radio shows 24 hours a day
Last week, we discussed how Hashem can provide a home for someone even if they lack the financial means to afford it. We shared a story about a man who accepted upon himself to completely remove business matters from his mind on Shabbat, and miraculously, he received all the money he needed from various sources. Since then, I was told an incredible story about how Hashem provided a home for a family that had no extra money beyond their basic necessities. They lived in a tiny apartment, struggling to cover their essential expenses, and never dreamed of living in a house, let alone owning one. One day, their landlord's daughter began straying from the proper path. As time passed, she became a negative influence on their family, to the point where they felt they could no longer stay there—not even for one more day. Desperate, the wife called her brother, who had many connections, and pleaded with him to find them another apartment immediately. He told her it was impossible—how could he find them a place to move into the same day? But she refused to take no for an answer. After thinking it over, he suggested they move in with their widowed mother, whom we'll call Mrs. Rosenberg, who lived alone in a spacious home. He called to ask, and she was delighted to welcome them. Immediately, he and another brother rented a van, packed up all their belongings, and moved them into Mrs. Rosenberg's house. They reached a monetary settlement with their landlord, and just like that, they were out of the apartment. Given the high cost of housing, it seemed they would be staying with their mother for a long time. Meanwhile, Mrs. Rosenberg had recently rekindled a friendship with another widow, whom we'll call Mrs. Miller, who lived in a different city. They had a lot in common, and Mrs. Rosenberg had been inviting her for Shabbat for some time. Eventually, Mrs. Miller accepted the invitation. When she arrived, Mrs. Miller enjoyed the company of the entire family. She continued visiting for several Shabbatot over the next few months. One day, she asked Mrs. Rosenberg why her daughter and son-in-law were always there. Mrs. Rosenberg explained their situation, mentioning that they could not afford to rent an apartment. Mrs. Miller was disheartened. "Everyone should have their own home," she said. "Please tell your daughter to start looking for a house. I want to help her." Mrs. Rosenberg was stunned by the generous offer. "I don't know if you realize," she told her friend, "but homes here cost no less than a million dollars." Mrs. Miller remained unfazed. "Tell them to look anyway." A few days later, they found a beautiful, spacious home with everything they could ever want. The asking price was $1.2 million. When Mrs. Miller heard the number, she asked to speak with Mrs. Rosenberg's son-in-law. She told him to apply for a mortgage to see how much he could qualify for. He and his wife, who also worked, went to the bank and were approved for $550,000. When they shared the news with Mrs. Miller, she immediately took action. She hired a lawyer to help them close on the house, and after all the fees, they were still short $700,000. Without hesitation, Mrs. Miller wired them the full amount, telling them it was her greatest pleasure to help. Since Mrs. Miller had no children of her own that she was close with, she felt as though she was buying a home for her own daughter. And just like that, a family who had struggled to afford rent on a tiny apartment became the proud owners of a beautiful home. They love having Mrs. Miller over, and she is overjoyed that she was able to help them. Hashem orchestrated every step of this process from beginning to end. He brings together His messengers with those He wants them to help. No matter how distant salvation may seem, a person can always be helped.
We discuss why and how we might try to make one new friend in 2025—a huge happiness booster. We also explore two creative happiness hacks that make it easier to stick to a habit of walking. Plus we tackle a fascinating Four Tendencies question about managing a Questioner spouse's barrage of daily questions, and we delve into how people differ in remembering their past experiences, comparing "snapshot" versus "movie" memory styles. Resources and links related to this episode: “The Paradox of Purpose: Those We Support Become Our Strength” Secrets of Adulthood Memento Keepsake Journal One-Sentence Journal Four Tendencies hub Elizabeth is reading: Look Closer by David Ellis (Amazon, Bookshop) Gretchen is reading: When Mrs. Coverlet Was Away by Mary Nash (Amazon) Get in touch: podcast@gretchenrubin.com Visit Gretchen's website to learn more about Gretchen's best-selling books, products from The Happiness Project Collection, and the Happier app. Find the transcript for this episode on the episode details page in the Apple Podcasts app. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
In Texas, Christmas weather isn't exactly snowy and cold. So how do you get into the festive spirit?Mrs. Miles, an elementary school teacher, shared how one of her students got creative during reading time. Instead of just reading his book, he had his laptop open. When Mrs. Miles went to check, expecting maybe a game or something, she found he had pulled up a video of a crackling fireplace. There he was, reading with the cozy glow of a fire on his screen. Now that's a fun way to bring a little Christmas spirit into a warm Texas day!
In the hushed halls of the British Library Reading Room, a sanctuary of knowledge hides a chilling secret. When an elderly professor is found murdered amidst at his desk, the scholarly calm of the Reading Room is shattered. Enter Mrs. Craggs, a humble charwoman with a sharp eye and a knack for uncovering truths others overlook. Overlooked herself by a world of scholars and "whizzers," she carries a quiet determination that surprises everyone—even herself. When Mrs. Craggs stumbles upon the crime, she finds herself drawn into a labyrinth of smooth-talking ambition and deceit. With the authorities sceptical and the suspect eager to cast blame elsewhere, can the stakes grow higher? Can Mrs. Craggs, armed with little more than her mp and her working-class common sense, expose the murderer before the wrong person is condemned? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
When Mrs. Park and her 6-year-old son are found brutally murdered, the investigators rush to unravel the clues. They focus on Cho Younghak, the husband and father, whose alibi and strange behavior raise more questions than answers. His texts reveal a decade of financial strain, manipulation, and an obsession with true crime. Join KTC's Discord today! If you enjoy Korean True Crime, please rate, follow, and send feedback! It helps me continue to improve the show. If you'd like to support the show or find show sources for free, join Korean True Crime on Patreon. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/koreantruecrime/support
Bible Reading: 1 John 2:15-17Naina nudged her way in as her class formed a circle around a four-square game drawn on the concrete. "There's a place in the United States where four states meet just like these four squares do," said Mrs. Cline. Using a big piece of chalk, she wrote the name of one state--Utah--in one square, Colorado in another, New Mexico in a third, and Arizona in the last one. "Many tourists visit that site and enjoy walking from state to state," Mrs. Cline told the class. "They also like to be in more than one state at a time. Who can show us how that can be done?"Naina eagerly raised her hand. When Mrs. Cline called on her, Naina knelt on the pavement with her right knee in the square marked Arizona, her left knee in Utah, her right hand in New Mexico, and her left hand in Colorado. "Good," said Mrs. Cline. "Many people who visit Four Corners, USA, do the same thing." That evening, Naina told her parents about the demonstration. "It was fun to pretend to be in four states at once," she said."I remember when I first heard about standing in more than one state at a time," Dad said. "When I was a freshman in high school, I heard it from my youth group leader.""From your youth group leader?" asked Naina."My leader mentioned Four Corners and said we should be careful about trying to stand in two different states spiritually," Dad explained. "He said that as Christians we sometimes try to be in the state of following Jesus and in the state of worldly living at the same time. We might say we stand on Jesus and His truth, but we also want to have one foot in the world."Mom nodded. "At Four Corners, are you actually in Colorado if you have one foot in New Mexico or one of the other states?""Well, not entirely," Naina admitted."No, and we can't really love Jesus and love the world at the same time either," said Dad. "This world is full of sin, but Jesus has saved us from sin and given us eternal life. Our hope is in Him, not in worldly things that won't last. That's why we need to follow Him wholeheartedly in every area of our lives." –Nance E. KeyesHow About You?Are you following Jesus wholeheartedly? Or are you trying to keep one foot in the ways of this world? Even though we live in the world, it's not where we belong--we belong to Jesus. So don't try to be in two places at once by holding on to sinful ways that don't fit the new life Jesus has given you, even if the world says it's okay. Leave them behind and follow Jesus alone. Today's Key Verse:Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. (NKJV) (Romans 12:2)Today's Key Thought:Follow Jesus, not the world
Bible Reading: 1 John 2:15-17Naina nudged her way in as her class formed a circle around a four-square game drawn on the concrete. "There's a place in the United States where four states meet just like these four squares do," said Mrs. Cline. Using a big piece of chalk, she wrote the name of one state--Utah--in one square, Colorado in another, New Mexico in a third, and Arizona in the last one. "Many tourists visit that site and enjoy walking from state to state," Mrs. Cline told the class. "They also like to be in more than one state at a time. Who can show us how that can be done?"Naina eagerly raised her hand. When Mrs. Cline called on her, Naina knelt on the pavement with her right knee in the square marked Arizona, her left knee in Utah, her right hand in New Mexico, and her left hand in Colorado. "Good," said Mrs. Cline. "Many people who visit Four Corners, USA, do the same thing." That evening, Naina told her parents about the demonstration. "It was fun to pretend to be in four states at once," she said."I remember when I first heard about standing in more than one state at a time," Dad said. "When I was a freshman in high school, I heard it from my youth group leader.""From your youth group leader?" asked Naina."My leader mentioned Four Corners and said we should be careful about trying to stand in two different states spiritually," Dad explained. "He said that as Christians we sometimes try to be in the state of following Jesus and in the state of worldly living at the same time. We might say we stand on Jesus and His truth, but we also want to have one foot in the world."Mom nodded. "At Four Corners, are you actually in Colorado if you have one foot in New Mexico or one of the other states?""Well, not entirely," Naina admitted."No, and we can't really love Jesus and love the world at the same time either," said Dad. "This world is full of sin, but Jesus has saved us from sin and given us eternal life. Our hope is in Him, not in worldly things that won't last. That's why we need to follow Him wholeheartedly in every area of our lives." –Nance E. KeyesHow About You?Are you following Jesus wholeheartedly? Or are you trying to keep one foot in the ways of this world? Even though we live in the world, it's not where we belong--we belong to Jesus. So don't try to be in two places at once by holding on to sinful ways that don't fit the new life Jesus has given you, even if the world says it's okay. Leave them behind and follow Jesus alone. Today's Key Verse:Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. (NKJV) (Romans 12:2)Today's Key Thought:Follow Jesus, not the world
As far as I can tell, there are two distinct spanking styles. One is the alternating cheek method, and the other is the cross-crack swat. When Mrs. Lion started spanking me, I suggested the alternating cheek method. This one uses a relatively small paddle surface that is applied alternately to The post Alternating Cheek or Cross-Crack: Which Spanking Method Is Best? appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
Welcome to Counsel Brew! We don't normally start with the triple SSS segment when describing a new episode, but Caren's will leave you speechless. Resist the urge to skip to the end!Caren is the voice for those who can't find their own or aren't given the opportunity to have one. As a little girl, she defied all the constraints placed on young Asian girls and found her voice early in life, always pushing the boundaries. When Mrs. Wong told young Caren she should become a lawyer, intending it as an insult, Caren agreed it was the path she should follow and never looked back.Caren is the Regional VP and Associate General Counsel at TIAA, where she's led the way in policy advocacy. She believes it's a person's moral imperative to open the door for others, to reach back and pull them up. She embodies this through her work with the Orchid Giving Circle and the Texas Women's Foundation Board. And if that isn't enough for you, she's also on the advisory board for the Dallas Mavs, the State Bar of Texas liaison to the corporate counsel section, and more. Caren has been and continues to be a seeker of justice for her parents, women and children, clients, mentees, and even those she hasn't met. Her badassery is limitless.Caren's brew, you ask? She's a fluffy latte kind of woman, and we may have convinced her to let go of her guilt about not having tried black coffee with butter. We hope you enjoy this episode!Find Caren at linkedin.com/in/caren-lock-4381215Learn more about Orchid Giving Circle at https://www.orchidgivingcircle.org/Message us at hello@counselbrew.com Visit us at http://www.counselbrew.com or @counselbrewhttps://www.linkedin.com/company/counsel-brew/ Explicit Rating is for the occasional use of colorful language.
In this heartwarming episode of The Shoebox Kids, we join Sammy as he navigates the challenges of keeping the Sabbath holy. When Mrs. Shue compares the Sabbath to a weekly party with God, Sammy's curiosity is piqued. However, as the day unfolds, Sammy finds himself torn between watching a baseball game and honoring the Sabbath. Through a series of events and self-reflection, Sammy learns a valuable lesson about prioritizing his relationship with God. Tune in to discover how Sammy overcomes his temptation and embraces the true spirit of the Sabbath.Bible Text:When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, they gathered around Aaron and said, “Come, make us gods[a] who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don't know what has happened to him.” Aaron answered them, “Take off the gold earrings that your wives, your sons and your daughters are wearing, and bring them to me.” So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He took what they handed him and made it into an idol cast in the shape of a calf,fashioning it with a tool. Then they said, “These are your gods,[b] Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.”When Aaron saw this, he built an altar in front of the calf and announced, “Tomorrow there will be a festival to the Lord.”So the next day the people rose early and sacrificed burnt offerings and presented fellowship offerings.Afterward they sat down to eat and drink and got up to indulge in revelry.Exodus 32 (MSG)If you're interested in any other books published by the Seventh-day Adventist Church, please visit adventistbookcenter.com or call 1-800-765-6955.Visit our website: www.kathyskidsstorytime.org We'd love to hear from you. Write to us at:Kathy@kathyskidsstorytime.orgorKathy's Kids StorytimePO Box 44270Charlotte, NC 28215-0043
Moira and Bob are complimenting Mrs. Juniper on her coffee when they are interrupted by a loud noise. Mrs. Juniper says the coffee is so good because she has a new coffee grinder – the Whizzomatic, and it's very good for business at the Wobbly Coffee Pot Café. Moira does not like the noise and says that the new grinder has to go. Mrs. Juniper refuses point blank. Later on, Bob and Mack are complaining that their stalls are very quiet. It seems people are coming into the Big Hub, taking a coffee and leaving. When Mrs. Juniper slowly realises that that is indeed what is happening, she turns to Bob for help. Bob gladly comes to the rescue, and soon it's back to business as usual at the Big Hub.
Old Mrs. Moody and Catbaloo are having a knitting lesson on the back porch, but a very crafty crow is interrupting them with his loud "caw, caw." Is he trying to tell them something? What could it be? When Mrs. Moody brings out a pair of binoculars to get a better look at what the crow is up to, she discovers an opening—the door to someone's home—way up high in the sugartree. Who is living inside, and why does the crow keep flying up there? Kiddos will climb a ladder with Catbaloo and peek inside the the hollow tree to solve the mystery. What a glorious discovery they'll make! This mini mystery is easy and pretty and fun. Close your eyes and listen - let yourself take a knitting lesson from Old Mrs. Moody, talk with a very smart crow and peek inside a hollow tree with Catbaloo. I hope you all enjoy the story. /sb ––– If you like The Old Mrs. Moody Show, you'll love the Old Mrs. Moody™ audiobook series––available at Oldmrsmoody.com Book 1 - Old Mrs. Moody and the Ninny Chickens Book 2 - Old Mrs. Moody and the Winter Walnut Festival Let the sounds, music and endearing characters in these audiobooks carry you off to the wonderful world of Old Mrs. Moody. Each story is thoughtfully and meaningfully written and beautifully recorded by the author. Thank you for listening! /sb
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women.Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
I know a spanking is coming. Whenever I think about it, I get a pleasant tingle “down there.” I can't deny that I want my bottom paddled. When Mrs. Lion pulls out the spanking bench and motions for me to mount it, I start to feel myself getting hard. I The post My Spanking appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
A Valentine's themed installment in the New York Times bestselling series, The Biggest Ever! Two friends decide to make a Valentine's Day card together but when things go awry, they break into a fight. A sweet tale about love and friendship that is perfect for all-year-round! When Mrs. Mousely asks her class to make valentines, Clayton and Desmond decide to make one together and give it to their teacher as a surprise. But things don't go as planned. First Clayton puts too much glitter on the card. Then Desmond puts on too many hearts. Soon the friends are arguing and they rip the card in half. "I'm going to make my own valentine!" they both say and go home in a huff. Will Clayton and Desmond make up in time for Valentines Day? Find this book at Scholastic.com or Amazon. Check out our holiday book collection at: www.SlothDreamsBooks.com --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/slothslovetoread/message
Random movie 11292 on Metacritic's all time movie list 2004's The Ladykillers, a remake of the 1955 British film of the same name.Directed by the Coen Brothers and with Tom Hanks leading the charge, this iteration offers a southern twist to the heist-gone-awry concept. Official Synopsis: Professor G.H. Dorr (Tom Hanks), a courtly Southern gentleman, arrives at the home of devout, elderly Marva Munson (Irma P. Hall), hoping to rent her extra room and use her basement to rehearse with his classical music ensemble. His fellow musicians, however, are actually criminals, and together they plan to rob a casino. When Mrs. Munson learns of their plan, they decide she must be silenced. Certainly, murdering one little old lady cannot be too difficult. Follow, rate, and review our podcast on all audio platforms here: https://linktr.ee/15krandommoviereviews We are Colin and Niall, two movie enthusiasts from Ireland who wanted to take a different approach to movie watching and reviewing. So we came up with the idea to randomly choose a movie from Metacritic's all time movie list (which at the time of starting our podcast was over 15,000 movies, hence the title!). We take pleasure in bad movies as well as good! We hope you enjoy our podcast and follow us on your favourite podcast platform (or Youtube). Follow, rate, and review our podcast on all audio platforms here: https://linktr.ee/15krandommoviereviews --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/15krandommoviereviews/message
Jessica Gamble graduated from Howard University, which is located in Washington DC. Mrs. Gamble is a huge supporter of Historically Black Colleges and Universities. Mrs. Gamble is married with two children, Kevin and Kai. Mrs. Gamble's favorite place to visit is Jamaica. She loves it so much that she has been there five times! Mrs. Gamble loves to get her nails done. She always uses unique colors and she NEVER matches her fingers and toes. When Mrs. Gamble was growing up her parents owned a balloon event decorating company so now she can make any space into a party place! When Mrs. Gamble lived in D.C. she worked for the Washington Wizards and the Mystics. She was the captain of the fan patrol for five seasons. She loved to get the crowd engaged in all sorts of outrageous ways! Show Highlights Leverage relationships with caring adults for your students. Tips to multiply your skills vs experience as a novice principal. Be a principal that people remember forever. Being the face of your building is essential. Masterminds help define who you are as a leader to build your leadership tool belt. Fill the gaps from principal meetings from the district. Grow beyond your “managerial tasks” to lead your school in a better way. “What you don't know about the Mastermind is what surprises you the most. You go in thinking I'm just gonna level up my leadership. But what you get out of it is so much more than that. It's friendship, it's comradery, it's togetherness, it's communication, it's tools, it's strategies, it's laughter, and it's hard conversations.” -Jessica Gamble Get the episode transcript here! Jessica's Resources & Contact Info: Linkedin Read my latest book! Learn why the ABCs of powerful professional development™ work – Grow your skills by integrating more Authenticity, Belonging, and Challenge into your life and leadership. Read Mastermind: Unlocking Talent Within Every School Leader today! Apply to the Mastermind The mastermind is changing the landscape of professional development for school leaders. 100% of our members agree that the mastermind is the #1 way they grow their leadership skills. Apply to the mastermind today! SHOW SPONSORS: HARVARD GRADUATE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION Transform how you lead to become a resilient and empowered change agent with Harvard's online Certificate in School Management and Leadership. Grow your professional network with a global cohort of fellow school leaders as you collaborate in case studies bridging the fields of education and business. Apply today at http://hgse.me/leader. TEACHFX With TeachFX, teachers are creating classrooms that are alive with conversation. Our app gives teachers insights into high-leverage practices like: How much student talk happened? Which questions got students talking? It's eye-opening for teachers, and scales the impact of coaches and principals. Start your free pilot at teachfx.com/blbs. ORGANIZED BINDER Why do students struggle? I'd argue that they lack access to quality instruction, but think about it. That's totally out of their control. What if there was something we could teach kids there was something within their control that would help them be successful in every class? It's not a magic pill or a figment of your imagination. When students internalize Executive Functioning Skills they succeed. Check out the new self-paced online course brought to you by OB that shows teachers how to equip their students with executive functioning skills. Learn more at organizedbinder.com/go Copyright © 2023 Twelve Practices LLC
Moira and Bob are complimenting Mrs. Juniper on her coffee when they are interrupted by a loud noise. Mrs. Juniper says the coffee is so good because she has a new coffee grinder – the Whizzomatic, and it's very good for business at the Wobbly Coffee Pot Café. Moira does not like the noise and says that the new grinder has to go. Mrs. Juniper refuses point blank. Later on, Bob and Mack are complaining that their stalls are very quiet. It seems people are coming into the Big Hub, taking a coffee and leaving. When Mrs. Juniper slowly realises that that is indeed what is happening, she turns to Bob for help. Bob gladly comes to the rescue, and soon it's back to business as usual at the Big Hub.
Jessica Gamble graduated from Howard University, which is located in Washington DC. Mrs. Gamble is a huge supporter of Historically Black Colleges and Universities. Mrs. Gamble is married with two children, Kevin and Kai. Mrs. Gamble's favorite place to visit is Jamaica. She loves it so much that she has been there five times! Mrs. Gamble loves to get her nails done. She always uses unique colors and she NEVER matches her fingers and toes. When Mrs. Gamble was growing up her parents owned a balloon event decorating company so now she can make any space into a party place! When Mrs. Gamble lived in D.C. she worked for the Washington Wizards and the Mystics. She was the captain of the fan patrol for five seasons. She loved to get the crowd engaged in all sorts of outrageous ways! Show Highlights You're a character in your students and staff's stories. Hear tips on how and what to narrate. A Hard Conversation Series on the roles schools play in discussing inequities and bias. Navigate an uncomfortably hard conversation we all must have. A process and protocol for facilitating conversations surrounding the topics needed at your school. Appreciate the diversity in your student body by inviting open communication and visibility. Cause friction and the tips on how to deal with it. Interesting ways to increase family engagement so people feel welcomed and at home in your building. “I would say bet on yourself. Don't be afraid to be bold and jump out there. You're sitting in that seat for a reason and so bet on yourself. You are the best person for the job for a reason.” -Jessica Gamble Jessica's Resources & Contact Info: Linkedin True2U Mentoring Program | Cleveland Read my latest book! Learn why the ABCs of powerful professional development™ work – Grow your skills by integrating more Authenticity, Belonging, and Challenge into your life and leadership. Read Mastermind: Unlocking Talent Within Every School Leader today! Apply to the Mastermind The mastermind is changing the landscape of professional development for school leaders. 100% of our members agree that the mastermind is the #1 way they grow their leadership skills. Apply to the mastermind today! SHOW SPONSORS: HARVARD GRADUATE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION Transform how you lead to become a resilient and empowered change agent with Harvard's online Certificate in School Management and Leadership. Grow your professional network with a global cohort of fellow school leaders as you collaborate in case studies bridging the fields of education and business. Apply today at http://hgse.me/leader. TEACHFX Last year, teachers using TeachFX increased their student talk by an average of 40%. TeachFX uses AI to help teachers see the power of high-leverage teaching practices in their own classroom-level data. It's like having a personal instructional coach...on your phone, tablet, or laptop. Start your free pilot at teachfx.com/betterleaders. ORGANIZED BINDER Why do students struggle? I'd argue that they lack access to quality instruction, but think about it. That's totally out of their control. What if there was something we could teach kids there was something within their control that would help them be successful in every class? It's not a magic pill or a figment of your imagination. When students internalize Executive Functioning Skills they succeed. Check out the new self-paced online course brought to you by OB that shows teachers how to equip their students with executive functioning skills. Learn more at organizedbinder.com/go Copyright © 2023 Twelve Practices LLC
The Tale of Peter Rabbit warns naughty children about the grave consequences of misbehaving. When Mrs. Rabbit beseeches her four furry children not to go into Mr. McGregor's garden, the impish Peter naturally takes this as an open invitation to create mischief.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful that I can get erections on demand. Sure, they're expensive, but like a Kardashian divorce, they're worth it. We have to get used to the process needed to produce one. It's hardly romantic. When Mrs. Lion wants me hard, I have to fetch a The post Working It Out appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful that I can get erections on demand. Sure, they're expensive, but like a Kardashian divorce, they're worth it. We have to get used to the process needed to produce one. It's hardly romantic. When Mrs. Lion wants me hard, I have to fetch a The post Working It Out appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
You can buy this book now on amazon - clicking the below link: https://amzn.to/3mfLwA7 Peppa Pig - Around the world with Peppa and all her friends is a real fun In this book you will see all peppa's friends sharing their places to visit in their holidays. When peppa and George's car gets some mechanical problems, mummy pig calls Mrs. Rabbit. When Mrs. rabbit is going to take some time that is when she offers them to take their aeroplane and roam around the world initially Peppa wanted to go to the park to do the muddy puddles but her mother by mistake took her to the jungle where she sees danny dog one of her friends. after flying from the jungle she goes to meet her best friend in the North Pole Suzy sheep from there she goes to desert to meet made the elephant family and then finally you will have to listen to this story to know if they are able to make it to park or not. peppa pig readAloud read aloud Thanks for watching! #peppapig #peppapiginenglish #peppainenglish #learningtoshare #readaloud #kids #kidsbooks #peppa --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/funwithanayra/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/funwithanayra/support
The Cutest Squirrel in the World Drinking Tea Coloring Book https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BH1YZWCZ The story is about an old woman named Mrs. Beasley who lives in a small cottage in a forest. She loves animals and takes care of them. One day, she meets a cute squirrel named Nutmeg who becomes her close friend. Nutmeg learns many tricks and spends a lot of time with Mrs. Beasley. When Mrs. Beasley falls ill, Nutmeg stays by her side and keeps her company. Mrs. Beasley eventually recovers, and Nutmeg brings her small gifts to show her affection. The story emphasizes the importance of friendship and kindness towards animals.
On August 23, 1912, a four-year-old boy named Bobby Dunbar vanished while on a fishing trip to Swayze Lake in St. Landry Parish, Louisiana. When Mrs. Lessie Dunbar realized that her son was gone, she contacted the police, who began a massive search for the boy. Eight months passed before the family's hopes for Bobby's return were finally realized —– or at least that's how it seemed. But no part of this story would turn out to be simple. The boy who returned home was NOT Bobby Dunbar.Check out our updated website and sign up for our newsletter at AmericanHauntingsPodcast.comCheck out our merch at AmericanHauntingsClothing.comFollow us on Twitter @AmerHauntsPod, @TroyTaylor13, @CodyBeckSTLFollow us on Instagram @AmericanHauntingsPodcast, @TroyTaylorgram, @CodyBeckSTLSubscribe for more bonus content on our Patreon pageThis episode was written by Troy TaylorProduced and edited by Cody BeckSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/american-hauntings-podcast/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
When Mrs. Kent learned of the grisly murder of her three year old son, she had only one thing to say. “Someone in the house has done it” What would follow would be the biggest whodunit of the 19th century. The Kent family would have their dirty laundry hung out to dry as London's top detective investigated them all for the murder of Saville Kent Heart Starts Pounding is written and produced by Kaelyn Moore. Follow the podcast on Instagram @heartstartspounding, subscribe on patreon, or support the podcast with a one time donation to Buy Me A Coffee. And if you have a heart pounding story you'd like to share on the podcast, you can visit heartstartspounding.com Shownotes: https://www.heartstartspounding.com/episodes/roadhillhouse
“Find the Universal.” When Mrs. Gallagher and I chatted about this “mantra” of hers it deeply moved me. Honestly, I have thought about it all week. As our ELL teacher (English Language Learner) she works daily with students from all over the world. In the three buildings that make up Tallmadge City Schools there are over 9 languages other than English being spoken. These are the young people that Mrs. Gallagher works with on a daily basis helping them learn and adjust to the daily demands of being a student in America. Her journey into education, and especially her journey to becoming an EL teacher is fascinating. What she does now wasn't her first, second, or even third career. Her journey through life encompasses time as a mother, grandmother, artist, college professor, poet, editor, author, and so much more. She describes herself as being curious and creative, both attributes modeled by her mother. Her writings, teaching, and stories certainly give evidence to these characteristics. Below you will find links to much of her work. She has a gift with words and a passion for poetry and art. She is also extremely passionate for her students. She combines her passion for both words and her students in her class and she teaches her students to describe to the world who they are and and to share their personal stories. I had the pleasure of sitting in on a recent professional development session where she and 6 of her Nepalis students enlightened our educators with strategies and stories of life as an international student at TCS. Their stories moved me. Much like our guest on episode 48, Serif Krkic, many of these young women were placed in the classroom without understanding English. One young lady, her poem linked below, shared with spoken and written word how she came over as a refugee, like Serif. Her poem is inspiring. Please listen to it, as she reads it in her own voice: Finding Myself By the time our conversation ended, as you will hear, Ms. Gallagher made it clear that she is passionate about her stories, her family, her art, and especially her students. She demonstrates and lives out the very same characteristics her students have taught her… Adaptability. Hospitality. Resiliency. Most of all, the ability to “find the universal” in all people. I walked away from this interview better. I walked away wanting to find the universal and make others feel wanted, seen, and heard. There is a lot to be learned from Kathleen's story, and so much to be learned from the incredible students she works with daily. Enjoy episode 51 and be sure to share this episode with a friend. Click the links below to learn more about Ms. Gallagher: Take the Q70 to the F Train? -poem written by Ms. Gallagher Pushcart Poetry nominee in 2012 for a poem in her book “I See Things are Falling” Edited and wrote forward to Eternal Snow --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/mark-horner/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/mark-horner/support
When Mrs. King announces a school field trip to the aquarium, Cairo and his friends can't contain their excitement. There's just one problem, though - Cairo already spent his weekly allowance, and he needs five dollars to pay for the trip! After doing some extra chores around the house to earn the money, Cairo learns a lesson about saving when he's tempted to buy some super cool slime with his new earnings instead.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe starring Sydney Greenstreet, originally broadcast February 23, 1951, The Case of the Malevolent Medic. Mrs. Hal Horton, the wife of a wealthy industrialist, is in love with her doctor. However, Dr. Ben Sloane is planning to marry his nurse. When Mrs. Horton dies in the doctor's office, Mr. Horton suspects foul play. Also Lum and Abner, originally broadcast February 23, 1953, Lum sets up VPR Station Management.Visit my web page - http://www.classicradio.streamWe receive no revenue from YouTube. If you enjoy our shows, listen via the links on our web page or if you're so inclined, Buy me a coffee! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/wyattcoxelAHeard on almost 100 radio stations from coast to coast. Classic Radio Theater features great radio programs that warmed the hearts of millions for the better part of the 20th century. Host Wyatt Cox brings the best of radio classics back to life with both the passion of a long-time (as in more than half a century) fan and the heart of a forty-year newsman. But more than just “playing the hits”, Wyatt supplements the first hour of each day's show with historical information on the day and date in history including audio that takes you back to World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. FDR, Eisenhower, JFK, Reagan, Carter, Nixon, LBJ. It's a true slice of life from not just radio's past, but America's past.Wyatt produces 21 hours a week of freshly minted Classic Radio Theater presentations each week, and each day's broadcast is timely and entertaining!
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens词汇提示1.mistletoe 槲寄生2.ivy 常春藤3.sausage 腊肠4.mince 肉馅5.hot punch 热饮料6.torch 火把7.cripple 瘸子8.crutch 拐杖9.hurray 欢呼声10.gravy 肉汁11.brandy 白兰地12.chestnuts 栗子13.wicked 恶毒的14.nephew 侄子，外甥原文Chapter IV: The Second SpirtScrooge woke up, opened his bed-curtain and looked around.He was ready to see anything, but when one o'clock struck, nothing happened.After a while he saw a strong light in the next room.He got out of bed and went slowly to the door.'Scrooge!' said a voice.'Come in, Ebenezer!'The room was his room, but it was different.On the walls there was some green holly with red berries, and mistletoe and ivy.In the fireplace was a great fire.On the floor there was a lot of food: turkey, goose, chicken, rabbit, pork and sausages, as well as mince pies, puddings, fruit, cakes, and hot punch.And on the sofa sat a very large man – a giant - and he was holding up a torch.'Come in!' said the Ghost.Scrooge went and stood in front of this giant, but he didn't look at it.He was too frightened.'I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,' said the Spirit. 'Look at me!'So Scrooge looked.He saw that the Spirit was smiling.It had kind, gentle eyes.There was holly round its long dark hair.Its face was young and happy.'You have never seen anybody like me before,' it said.'Never.''And you have never met any of my brothers?''No. How many brothers have you got?''More than eighteen hundred. I am the youngest.''Spirit,' Scrooge said, 'take me where you want. I learnt a good lesson last night.''Touch my clothes!'When Scrooge did this, the room disappeared and he stood in the city streets on Christmas morning.There was a lot of snow.Some people were playing and throwing snowballs. Others were buying food in the shops.It was a busy, cheerful scene, and the bells were ringing.Then a lot of poor people came along the street with their Christmas dinners of goose or chicken.They were taking them to the baker's shops to be cooked in the oven.The spirit took Scrooge to one of these shops and touched some of the dinners with its torch.'What are you doing? 'Scrooge asked.'I am making these dinners extra good so the people will be happier,' it replied, smiling.After a while Scrooge followed the Ghost to the suburbs of the city.They went to the house of Bob Cratchit, his clerk.The kind Ghost touched the house with its torch.Then they went in.Mrs. Cratchit and her daughter Belinda were preparing the table for Christmas dinner.Young Peter Cratchit was helping them.Suddenly two little Cratchits ran in and shouted that the goose was ready at the baker's.Then the oldest daughter Martha arrived, and after her came Bob with his little son Tiny Tim on his shoulder.The child was a cripple and he walked around on a small crutch.Young Peter went to fetch the goose.When he came back, all the children in the family shouted 'Hurray!' because they didn't often eat goose.Belinda made some apple sauce; Mrs. Cratchit prepared the potatoes and the gravy; Martha put the hot plates on the table.Finally, everything was ready.When Mrs. Cratchit cut the goose, everybody cried 'Hurray!' again, and Tiny Tim hit the table with his knife.The goose was small, but they all said it was the best goose in the world and ate every bit of it.Then Mrs. Cratchit brought in the Christmas pudding with brandy onit.She lit the brandy with a match, and when they were all eating, they said, 'Oh, what a wonderful pudding!'Nobody said or thought that it was a very small pudding for a big family.After dinner the Cratchits sat round the fire.They ate apples and oranges, and hot chestnuts.Then Bob served some hot wine. 'A Merry Christmas to us all!' he said.'A Merry Christmas!' the family shouted.'And God bless everyone!' said Tiny Tim in his weak voice.He sat very near his father.Bob loved his son very much and be held Tiny Tim's thin little hand.'Will Tiny Tim live, Spirit?' Scrooge asked.'I see an empty chair,' replied the Ghost, 'and a small crutch. But not Tiny Tim. If the future does not change, the child will die.''No, no!' said Scrooge.'Say he will live, kind Spirit!' 'If the future is not changed, he will not see another Christmas. But you think that's a good thing, don't you? You said there are too many people in the world.'Scrooge didn't answer and he didn't look in the Ghost's eyes.He felt very bad.'Those were wicked words, Ebenezer Scrooge,' the Ghost continued.'Do you think you can decide who will live or die? Are you better than this poor man's child, or millions like him? Perhaps you are worse in God's eyes!'Scrooge trembled and looked at the ground.Suddenly he heard his name.'Mr. Scrooge! Let's drink to Mr. Scrooge!'It was Bob Cratchit and he was holding up his glass.'Drink to Mr. Scrooge!' said Mrs. Cratchit angrily.'Drink to that hard old miser! What are you saying, Robert Cratchit?''My dear - the children. It's Christmas Day.''I know that, but I would like to tell Mr. Scrooge what I think of him! You know how bad he is.''My dear, it's Christmas Day.''Well, I'll drink to him because it's Christmas. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Mr. Scrooge! - But you won't be merry or happy, I know.'The children drank to Scrooge too, but his name was like a dark shadow in the room and for a few minutes they were silent.Then they told stories and sang songs, and they felt better.The Cratchits were poor and they looked poor.Their clothes were old; there were big holes in their shoes.Bob Cratchit's salary I was very small.He never had enough money and there was never much food in the house.But the family was contented now because it was Christmas.Scrooge watched them carefully.He listened to them well.And he looked at Tiny Tim very often before the family scene vanished.It was dark now, and snow was falling.Scrooge and the Ghost walked along the streets and saw great fires in the houses, where families and friends were enjoying Christmas together.The Ghost was happy to see the celebrations.It laughed, and where it passed, people laughed too.And then Scrooge heard a loud, happy laugh.It was his nephew's.He saw him in a bright, warm room.When his nephew laughed, the other people in the room laughed with him.'He said that Christmas was a humbug!' the nephew laughed.'And he believed it too!''He's stupid an bad, Fred,' said his wife.'Well, he's a strange man, and he isn't very happy.''he's very rich, Fred.''Yes, my dear, but he doesn't do anything with his money. He doesn't help others, and he lives like a poor man.''Nobody likes him. I don't like him. He makes me angry.''I'm not angry with him. I feel sorry for him because he doesn't enjoy his life. He never laughs. He didn't want to eat with us today, but I'm going to ask him every year. I'll say, "How are you, Uncle Scrooge? Come and eat with us."Then they played some music and sang.After that, there were games.When they played twenty questions, Scrooge forgot that they couldn't hear him and he shouted his answers.Then his nephew thought of something and everybody asked him questions.'Is it an animal?''Yes.''Does it live in the city?''Yes.''Is it a horse?''No.'It wasn't a dog, a cat or a pigeon.It made horrible noises, sometimes it talked, and nobody liked it.'I know what it is!' shouted Fred's wife. 'It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!'She was right.'A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man!' said Fred.Scrooge wanted to say this to Fred, but the scene vanished and he and the Ghost travelled again.Scrooge noticed that the Spirit looked older.Its hair was grey now.'Is your life so short?' he asked.'Very short. It ends tonight at midnight. It's eleven forty-five. I haven't got much time. Look - look down here!'The Spirit opened its coat and Scrooge saw two children on the ground, a boy and a girl.They were very thin.Their clothes were old and poor, and they were trembling with cold.They looked very hungry.Their eyes were sad.They looked older than children and they were ugly, like monsters.Scrooge was shocked.'Are they yours?' he asked.'No. They are Man's. They belong to humanity.' 'Haven't they got a house or a family?''Aren't there a lot of prisons?' the Spirit replied. 'And aren't there any workhouses?''Oh, no - no! Those are my words!' Scrooge cried.The church clock struck twelve.He looked around for the Ghost but it wasn't there.Then he remembered old Jacob Marley's words: 'The third Spirit will come at twelve midnight.'
Episode 21, “Jack Moves Out” Jack's bad day leads to an all-out fight with the girls which sends Jack packing for the home of the Laytons, a couple looking for a live-in chef. When Mrs. Layton has some suggestions on how she and Jack could do some serious cooking, he heads for home and directly into another trap. Theme by Burt Nachos and available on BandCamp!
Mrs. Kittie says she got started racing in Bmx on a dare from her son. Her first race was the Mother's Day race in 1988 at a track in Iowa. She didn't but she was hooked on Bmx ever since. When Mrs. Kittie started her journey into Bmx she was going on 40 years old. Around that time Iowas had seven tracks. Soon the family would venture out to neighboring states to compete. Here's the thing, at the time there were no women's classes so she raced with the men. At the time Mrs. Kittie primarily raced NBL in and around the DesMoines, Iowa area. She not only raced NBL but she got involved in the board and was at one time volunteer of the year. One of her biggest accomplishments was helping to start the 80/35 BMX track. On average Mrs. Kittie races 50-60 times a year. Plus she's done every Grands since 1990. And this is a woman who has had both hips and knees replaced. At 75 years old this former teacher and principal doesn't appear to be slowing down.
The pasuk says נושא חסד לאלפים – Hashem uses the good deeds of people to help their descendants, even up to 2000 generations later. The chesed of Hashem is so great, He created a system in which the deeds of parents are able to help their children as well. Sometimes we find, out of nowhere, a child in an irreligious family wanting to grow and become close to Hashem. On the surface level, we don't know what sparked him. But then we find, his grandmother, or great-grandmother was religious and she must have been praying for the religious success of her children and grandchildren. And Hashem used her tefilot to help her descendants. I read a story about the Spitzer Family. For ten years, they waited to have children. And when the long anticipated day finally arrived, Mrs. Spitzer was blessed with a healthy set of quintuplets. They were so overcome with joy, but at the same time, they were in great need of funds. The exorbitant costs of fertility treatments had consumed all of their savings. With five infants to care for, work was not only out of the question of Mrs. Spitzer, but she also needed to hire a nurse and a housekeeper to help her tend to the little ones. At that time, her husband was still learning in kollel and had to begin looking for a job. Down the block lived a wealthy older woman named Mrs. Gordon. When she heard about the financial trouble the Spitzers were in, she decided to help out. Throughout the next several months, she sent them very generous sums of money that not only tied them over, but also allowed the baby's father to remain part-time in kollel. One Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Gordon decided she wanted to visit the Spitzers and meet the young mother and her five infants. When Mrs. Spitzer received the phone call, she quickly organized the house before Mrs. Gordon came. When she arrived, she walked into the house and then saw a large, framed photograph hanging on the wall in the living room and almost fainted. It was a picture of Mrs. Spitzer's mother. Mrs. Gordon said, “I owe your mother my life.” And proceeded to recount an incredible story. During World War II, she was in Bergen-Belsen with a small group of girls between the ages of 14-16. Despite the horrors all around them, they were committed to observing every mitzvah they could. A few days before Chanukah, they were setting aside the daily bit of margarine they received as part of rations, so they could use it to light their candles. They were going to use threads from their prisoner's garb for wicks and all they were missing was a vessel to be able to light the candles. The most practical and accessible objects were potato peels, but even they were hard to come by. Their only means of obtaining them would be to slip out of their barracks at night and sneak into the kitchen. They knew that every night at exactly 12:00, for 5 minutes, there was no guard stationed outside the kitchen. And so, the five of them were going to take the risk to do this mitzvah. On the first night of Chanukah, they set out before 12:00 to accomplish their goal. However, a Nazi soldier caught them and the next day they were going to be punished by being publicly hanged. Their names were taken down and they were told to go back to the barracks. They knew there was one young Jewish woman who benefited from better conditions than everybody else. She was brilliant and fluent in several languages. The Nazis had recruited her for the special task of listening to foreign news reports and translating the broadcasts. As a reward for her efforts, she slept in a private room and enjoyed special privileges. In a desperate endeavor to save their lives, they snuck out once again in the middle of the night to go and ask for her help. When they arrived to their disbelief, they saw her standing by a candle, softly singing Ma'oz Tzur . They approached her and started begging for help. They must have startled her because she appeared shocked and refused to listen to their pleas. She then berated them sternly and told them to leave. The next day, all the prisoners were ordered to go to the town square to watch the execution of these five girls. Before the hanging, that woman translator rushed to the commander and whispered something in his ear. She was talking as if something was agitating her greatly. The commander looked irritated by the report, but unexpectedly, he ordered his men to stop the hanging and, in disgust, told everybody to leave. Mrs. Gordon concluded, “shortly after that Chanukah miracle, British forces entered and liberated us. The war ended before I had a chance to thank that woman for saving my life, but her image has escorted me every day since.” That woman was Mrs. Spitzer's mother, in that photograph hanging on the wall. Mrs. Spitzer then burst out into tears and told her part of the story. She said, “On the night before I gave birth, my mother appeared to me in a dream and told me in Yiddish, five for five. I had no idea what she meant. But the next day, I gave birth to quintuplets. And now, the story is complete. I was getting blessed with five babies in the merit of her saving five lives.” Our deeds not only help ourselves, but they help our descendants as well.
When Mrs. Lion kept me locked full-time in a male chastity device, on the rare occasions that she let me run around without wearing my chastity device, she referred to me as a wild lion. For some time now, I've been cage-free. I think that is a better adjective than The post Confessions Of A Tame Lion appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
When Mrs. Lion kept me locked full-time in a male chastity device, on the rare occasions that she let me run around without wearing my chastity device, she referred to me as a wild lion. For some time now, I've been cage-free. I think that is a better adjective than The post Confessions Of A Tame Lion appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
When Mrs. Lion kept me locked full-time in a male chastity device, on the rare occasions that she let me run around without wearing my chastity device, she referred to me as a wild lion. For some time now, I've been cage-free. I think that is a better adjective than The post Confessions Of A Tame Lion appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
When Mrs. Catholic Comedy lets Steven do the shopping, there are... issues.
Narrator Aysha Kala delivers action and romance in this sequel to Freya Marske's A MARVELLOUS LIGHT. Host Jo Reed and AudioFile's Emily Connelly talk about this thrilling tale set at sea. Determined and a touch chaotic, 19-year-old Maud Blyth doesn't have magic, but she's on a secret magical mission nonetheless. She's undercover, accompanying the elderly Mrs. Navenby, who is in possession of a secret magical artifact, on a transatlantic crossing to England. When Mrs. Navenby is murdered, Maud must secure allies, find the killer—and figure out what that artifact is, and whether it's been stolen. Kala ably provides accents for a ship full of characters, from upper to lower decks, and both sides of the Atlantic. Maud enlists the outrageous and captivating magical concert-hall performer Violet Debenham to help her solve the case. Trust and heat build between the two as danger and magic abound. Read the full review of the audiobook on AudioFile's website. Published by Macmillan Audio. Find more audiobook recommendations at audiofilemagazine.com Listen to AudioFile's fifth season of Audiobook Break, featuring Bram Stoker's DRACULA, read by Gildart Jackson. Support for AudioFile's Behind the Mic comes from Simon & Schuster Audio. Listen to THE MAZE by Nelson DeMille, read by Scott Brick today. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Since we've been writing about our disciplinary activities, I thought I would bring up the subject of habits. When Mrs. Lion worked in an office all day, discipline had to wait until after dinner. She got in the habit of spanking me after 8 PM. There is nothing wrong with The post Creatures Of Habit appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
Since we've been writing about our disciplinary activities, I thought I would bring up the subject of habits. When Mrs. Lion worked in an office all day, discipline had to wait until after dinner. She got in the habit of spanking me after 8 PM. There is nothing wrong with The post Creatures Of Habit appeared first on Male Chastity Journal.
Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence audiobook. This intimate portrait of a coal-miner's family fastens on each member in turn: Walter Morel, the collier; Gertrude, his wife; and the children: William, Annie, Arthur, and Paul. When Mrs. Morel begins to be estranged from her husband because of his poor financial sense and his drinking habits, she comes to inhabit the lives of her children - most particularly, her sons. She is determined that they will grow to be something more than men that come home blackened with coal dust every day and roaring with drink every night. As each grows up and moves away, she must release him. But Paul, she holds; they have a bond that defies time and the attractions of young women. Lawrence originally intended the book's title to be "Paul Morel" and it is on this son - and his lovers - that he spends the bulk of his tale. The strong mother can make a success of her son, but if he cannot learn to leave his mother's apron strings, will he really be a better man than his father?
Moira and Bob are complimenting Mrs. Juniper on her coffee when they are interrupted by a loud noise. Mrs. Juniper says the coffee is so good because she has a new coffee grinder – the Whizzomatic, and it's very good for business at the Wobbly Coffee Pot Café. Moira does not like the noise and says that the new grinder has to go. Mrs. Juniper refuses point blank. Later on, Bob and Mack are complaining that their stalls are very quiet. It seems people are coming into the Big Hub, taking a coffee and leaving. When Mrs. Juniper slowly realises that that is indeed what is happening, she turns to Bob for help. Bob gladly comes to the rescue, and soon it's back to business as usual at the Big Hub.
The Girls (as Amy DeFazio and Robbie-Ann Feeney) do a Deep Dive into 70s sitcom classic Laverne and Shirley. The iconic shabby basement apartment, which Amy reports was also the former set of another classic sitcom. The show's frequent 'winter' settings. Landlady Mrs. Babish. Lenny Kosnowski and Andrew 'Squiggy' Squiggman - David Lander and Michael McKean...and the surprising origins of their characters. Did Shirley and Laverne date Lenny and Squiggy, or what? Robbie-Ann wonders about a Steinbeck influence on their characters. Carmine - Shirley's 'sweetheart.' Character analysis: Shirley Feeney. Were you Shirley or Laverne? Boo-Boo Kitty - Cindy Williams' ad lib. The origins of the famous nonsense hop-scotch intro "5, 6, 7 8..." Some ocean-floor level deeeep-dive trivia on the iconic theme song sung by Cyndi Greco, and its connections to the Happy Days theme song. How producers discovered Cyndi Greco singing at an amusement park. Sidebar: go find the documentary The Wrecking Crew about the famous musicians who played on pretty much EVERYTHING between 1960 and 1980. The Ron Hicklin Singers: the surprising "Making Our Dreams Come True" theme connection with The Partridge Family, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the Kawasaki and McDonald's jingles, and a long list of 60s and 70s hits. Robbie-Ann reports the 'WHAAAT?!" connection with the "Making Our Dreams Come True" song and...."We Are the World?!" Character breakdown: Laverne DeFazio. The iconic 'L' monogram on her sweaters, which Penny Marshall contributed to Laverne's costume. The abomination of 'milk and Pepsi.' Amy reports on Laverne's backstory. The incredible physical comedy from the two leads. Shirley's disappearance from the last season of the show - the 'marriage' excuse. Michael McKean's exit to shoot "Spinal Tap" - and Amy reports a stunning announcement that Spinal Tap actually appeared on an episode in the last season. The final episode of Season 8 - a Carmine spin-off? The show's move to Burbank that jumped the shark. Laverne and Shirley in Burbank: gift wrappers? "Big Rosie" as their nemesis in early episodes. When Mrs. Babish married Laverne's father Frank, but leaves him in the lurch in later episodes. Robbie-Ann's issue with sitcoms that got serious: just be funny please. Sidebar: Seinfeld's wise 'no hugs' policy on the sitcom. Amy liked those episodes though, because it was unexpected. The 80s hair and wardrobe of the later seasons, even though it was supposed to be late 60s. The lost season 5 when Laverne and Shirley joined the Army Reserves. The show's great use of the street-level window as a comedy device. How Cindy Williams and Penny Marshall initially got on the show, and their connection to...Francis Ford Coppola? Penny Marshall's marriage to Rob Reiner, and Cindy Williams' marriage to Bill Hudson of the Hudson Brothers. The infamous terms 'Vo-di-oh-do-do' and 'hot to trot.' The 're-virginization' of Laverne and Shirley. Rumors of off-camera antics: partying? Diva behavior? Drugs? The effects of the show's success on egos and the work environment. The cozy first seasons and the focus on the characters' friendship. Didn't every little girl think she would grow up to live with her best friend?
Clark the Shark: Lost & Found. When Mrs. Inkydink announces a class trip to the farmers' market, Clark is so excited he doesn't listen to her instructions. “Hurrah, hooray, it's time to play!” Clark gets lost in the crowd and has to use his rhyming to remember what Mrs. Inkydink said to do. Beginning readers will be entertained and reassured by this clever, funny tale featuring our favorite boisterous shark. The back matter includes fun, bite-sized facts about shark eating! With colorful illustrations from Guy Francis and lively text from Bruce Hale, this Level One I Can Read is perfect for children learning to sound out words and sentences.
The episode's done, man. When Mrs. Crandell (Concetta Tomei) has left the country and Mrs. Sturak (Eda Reiss Merin) up and dies, Mama Celeste decides that Swell Crandell (Christina Applegate) must find work at GAW with Rose Lindsey (Joanna Cassidy). Much to the chagrin of Carolyn (Jayne Brook) and her boyfriend Bruce (David Duchovny, why won't you love me?) Swell is right on top of that Rose while attracting the attention of disGUSting Gus (John Getz) and wiener boy Bryan (Josh Charles). In order to save the summer, she enlists the help of her siblings Kenny (Keith Coogan), Zach (Christopher Pettiet), Meliisa (Danielle Harris), and Walter - that kid we hate (Robert Hy Gorman). Don't tell mom the babysitter's dead or you'll ruin our summer vacation. Follow us on Instagram @doomgenerationpod Join our Patreon at patreon.com/doomgeneration --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/doomgeneration/message
We are excited to share our latest Hootworthy episode, an interview with Georgia Cyber Academy's (GCA) District Teacher of the Year: Mrs. Erica Sims. Mrs. Sims is a Middle School Special Education teacher and will be representing GCA at a state recognition banquet with other District Teachers of the Year in April, where the Georgia Teacher of the Year will be named. She has taught for 10 years, four of those at GCA. This award means so much to Ms. Sims and she is somewhat speechless because she is so honored to receive this recognition knowing the quality of faculty she interacts with that she feels are so deserving of recognition themselves.Her journey to become a teacher is one of teaching finding her. When she was a child, her best friend's little brother was autistic. She was automatically drawn to him, and they loved spending time together. She was so great with him that his grandmother commented that Erica should become a special education teacher as a career. As time went on throughout high school and even into college, she continued to gravitate toward students with disabilities. Eventually she decided that being a special education teacher was what she was meant to do after all. As a teacher in the LIFE department, she and her co-teacher teach all academic areas and skills for independent living like counting money, telling time, and how to read a menu.Over the course of her teaching career, she has had many good memories. One of her favorite times was a few years ago when she taught middle grades at her local brick and mortar school. She had a few students in her class who loved Ghostbusters and always asked if they could dance to one of the songs. She had the idea to participate in the school's talent show, but if they were going to do this, they were going to go all out. They practiced every day, found matching Ghostbuster style jumpsuits, and poured their hearts into it. Their efforts paid off when they ended up winning the talent show. She recalls how everyone felt in that moment—like they just won the World Series. Teaching comes with its challenges, but it is also filled with wins. She loves it when she sees disengaged students turn into engaged students. She uses shock factors to engage her students-- singing student names or doing backflips on the trampoline—a favorite thing about teaching at GCA. She finds it so satisfying when she will see previous students out in the world being successful. She shared that a GCA student of hers started a dog sitting business, and it is so rewarding for her to see this student out following through with an idea, making money for himself, getting jobs, succeeding, and gaining independence. If Mrs. Sims could give one piece of advice to students, she would tell them to keep their lives in perspective. Even though it may seem like if something does or does not happen it may seem like the end of the world or that life will always seem so stressful, but take a breath. Pause and remember that there is so much more life left to be lived, and that this is just a small part, a glimpse of it. Keep a perspective knowing that in the grand scheme of things, one may look back and say that it wasn't as big of a deal as you thought it was at the time.When Mrs. Sims isn't teaching, you can find her spending time with her family, enjoying nature, doing cycling classes, or teaching cycling classes as a certified instructor. She couldn't praise her co-teacher Ms. Knight enough, or her lead Ms. Spear, who she is so grateful for in the way that she leads as a servant, is constantly willing to help, and shares the workload with her team. We are proud of Mrs. Sims and her accomplishment as district teacher of the year, and we are grateful to have such amazing faculty work at GCA.
March is our favorite time of year here at Local Leaders the Podcast. March is National Women in History Month and each year we select five ladies from Livingston Parish Louisiana to represent Local Leaders the Podcast as "Leading Ladies". Our first of five (no particular order) is Mrs. Shannon Bernard. When Mrs. Bernard is not helping other financially through her role as a Regional Vice President at Primerica, she is doing what leaders do...Giving back to her community in droves! We are excited and honored to present our very first Leading Lady for 2022! Primerica Shannon Bernard on the web: www.primerica.com/shannon_bernard --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/localleadersthepodcast/support
The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe starring Sydney Greenstreet, originally broadcast February 23, 1951, The Case of the Malevolent Medic. Mrs. Hal Horton, the wife of a wealthy industrialist, is in love with her doctor. However, Dr. Ben Sloane is planning to marry his nurse. When Mrs. Horton dies in the doctor's office, Mr. Horton suspects foul play. Also Claudia, originally broadcast February 23, 1948, Finding a Contractor. A visit to Paradis
When Mrs. King announces a school field trip to the aquarium, Cairo and his friends can't contain their excitement. There's just one problem, though - Cairo already spent his weekly allowance, and he needs five dollars to pay for the trip! After doing some extra chores around the house to earn the money, Cairo learns a lesson about saving when he's tempted to buy some super cool slime with his new earnings instead.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
Today's guest on the Writer's Parachute, Guiding Author and Writer dreams to a perfect landing®...is: Gin Noon-Spaulding, Author/Speaker/Teacher/Podcast Hostwww.ginnoonspaulding.comBe sure to follow the Writer's Parachute on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter @WriterParachutehttps://www.facebook.com/writerparach...https://www.instagram.com/writerparac...https://www.twitter.com/writerparachute/Gin Noon-Spaulding Bio:www.ginnoonspaulding.comGin Noon Spaulding is an author, teacher, speaker, and mom who helps families and organizations understand, learn tools of accommodation, and find true acceptance for children with sensory issues. In doing so, Mrs. Spaulding helps the child, family, and organization excel aside from their differences. Mrs.Spaulding is originally from Tullahoma, Tennessee, where she discovered her love for storytelling and writing, through her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who would tell hilarious stories that would make anyone laugh! She always enjoyed hearing the oral history of her family and keeping people on the edge of their seats, as they listened to her many stories. Mrs. Spaulding was recruited to teach school in Louisville, KY in 1991 and has called it her home for the last 31 years. Mrs. Spaulding holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in Education from Austin Peay State University in Clarksville, TN, and a Master of Education degree in Educational Counseling from the University of Louisville. After 27 years of teaching, Mrs. Spaulding retired from Jefferson County Public Schools in 2018 and has found her true passion-professional writing! When Mrs. Spaulding is not writing, she likes to volunteer to feed the homeless at her church's Salvation Army Ministry and Keep Louisville Warm. Mrs. Spaulding also volunteers with her child's charity (Blankets of Hope by Maleah and Friends) that makes blankets for the homeless, with her sorority - Delta Sigma Theta, Inc., in the community, and at her church– Bates Memorial Baptist Church. She also enjoys traveling, shopping, working out at the Southeast YMCA, meeting new people, and spending time with her husband of 21 years, Larry, and their whiz-kid daughter, Maleah "Li-Li" Spaulding (the star of The Adventures of Li-Li series).www.ginnoonspaulding.comThe Adventures of LiLi series description:https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PLL2F87The Adventures of Li-Li is a children's book series based on the author's daughter. The series begins with an introductory book (A Miracle at Bates Memorial), and each book thereafter is based on a different sensory issue [Picture Perfect-NOT (visual sensory issues), Jump-O-Ween (Proprioceptive Sensory Issues), and No Kiss-No Hug (Tactile Sensory Issues). Each book, except for the introductory one, has a check list to help parents decide if they need to possibly seek extra assistance from a therapist.Four (4) Book series including: A Miracle at Bates Memorialhttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07J4PPWKKPicture Perfect - NOThttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PDB4SW6Jump-O-Weenhttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B083ZRHMVWNo Kiss - No Hughttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08KD26MZFEBook series on Amazonhttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PLL2F8Follow Gin on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @GustGinHer Podcast, Gust Gin–Living My 360 Degree Life@GustGinLiveYoutube: Gust Gin Living My 360 Degree Lifehttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7OJRWjYudLhJTsvO0V_aEQEmail: TheAdventuresofLiLi2003@gmail.com
In this monumental, momentous 60th podcast, a furry, masked substitute teacher visits Bob's music class. Okay, actually Bob lets a racoon into the classroom. When Mrs. Brown returns and greets the ring-tailed intruder, she asks who's responsible ... and Bob knows exactly what to do. Speaking of knowing what to do, a listener wants to know what to do after seeing someone in her class steal something. Pre-order the book "Average Boy's Above-Average Year": https://store.focusonthefamily.com/average-boys-above-average-year/ Parents, if you've listened to any of our podcasts, please give us your feedback: https://focusonthefamily.com/podcastsurvey/
The Character Network Presents: The Beginning of a Famous Hero
Please visit us at http://www.patreon.com/TheCharacterNetwork (www.Patreon.com/TheCharacterNetwork) to help support TCN and help us keep providing these unique and extremely effective research based Bully and Violence Prevention and Character Education Programs to schools around the world, and help more kids who desperately need special intervention. Go to http://www.thecharacternetwork.org/ (www.TheCharacterNetwork.org) to learn more and get involved. Thank you! Public use in schools requires a site license, please visit The Character Network to find out how your school can get these life changing program as a part of the TCN METHOD for school violence and bully prevention. Go HERE for a Free Copy of Jim Lord's Life Changing Breakthrough Novel, Mr. Delaney's Mirror, A Reflection of Your Futurehttps://characternetwork.krtra.com/t/E6KcJXqk8olF (https://bit.ly/GetDelaneysMirrorHere)************** A HERO is someone who does something special to HELP OTHERS. Every hero STARTS as a CHILD, and every Child can CHOOSE to become a Hero... Just like THIS one!When she was in the first grade, Francine could read better than anybody else in the class. In fact, she could read better than the 4th graders when she was in the first grade! She had a natural talent for being able to read well, but she knew that just having the talent wasn't enough. She worked hard—every day—to learn bigger words, to read long sentences more smoothly, and to read thicker books. All of the kids in Francine's first grade class were learning to read—some better than others— except for one boy. He couldn't read at all. When Mrs. Williams would call on him to read aloud, he just had to sit there. He couldn't do anything, and it was almost like he could feel the others looking at him. He was so embarrassed, and that was bad enough but things got a whole lot worse. You see, there were some kids in the class who would laugh at him and tease him and even call him names—all because he couldn't read. It got so bad that he didn't even want to try anymore. Well, Francine decided to do something about it. After school one day, while she was waiting for her parents to pick her up, she sat down beside the boy who couldn't read. She offered to HELP him, and that's exactly what she did. Soon the boy learned he really could read when someone showed him how! Francine HELPED him everyday for a long time, and by the end of the school year, he had become the second best reader in the class! Think about this. Earlier that school year, since Francine was such a good reader and the boy could not read at all, she could have chosen to treat him horribly, like some of the others were doing! But she chose to HELP instead of to hurt. Francine CHOSE to become a HERO. That's what I know about the beginning of This Hero, and I know that YOU Can Be a Hero TOO! Dear Parents, After years of development, trial, and revision, we are so excited to now share with you the most effective version yet of our Proactive Bully Prevention Program that has proven to "change the culture" at hundreds of campuses across America in profound ways. Research has shown the TCN Method™ to be the single most effective school based Violence and Bully Prevention Intervention of its entire genre. We have hundreds of testimonials from educators describing the results they have gotten, and you can view many of these at http://www.thecharacternetwork.org/Testimonials (www.TheCharacterNetwork.org/Testimonials) This program, The Beginning of a Famous Hero™ is used in conjunction with a companion program called Bully Alert!™ in schools played over the intercom during morning announcements twice or more each school week, and backed up by a common culture which reinforces the principles taught, at every turn, and incorporates the phrases of the academic language during any teachable moment. These two sets of stories work together to convey a common academic language which says, “A bully is a person who hurts...
When Mrs. Herrick's brother Charlie dies, he leaves his money in trust for members of the circus he used to own under the name of "Segantini's World Renowned Mammoth International Hippodrome and Museum of Living Marvels". When five of the Extraordinary Mortals of the circus show up to visit with the Ordinary Mortals at Mrs. Herrick's country house, there is a clash of cultures.... --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/3daudiobooks0/support
There are times when a person finds himself in a predicament and has no idea of how to get himself out of it. He consults with others for advice, but no one seems to have a solution. How fortunate we are that we have Hashem who can always give the perfect solution to any problem and He can do it so easily. The pasuk says in Tehillim מאין יבוא עזרי, when a person is searching for help, he must realize עזרי מעם ה', that Hashem could provide it instantly. Sometimes, a person needs to remain in a certain situation for his own good, but when the time comes for him to get out of it, Hashem will open his mind and give him the proper advice, or He'll send one of His messengers to provide it. The Sefat Emmet brings an explanation in that pasuk that gives us advice on how to hasten salvations. When a person truly understands מאין יבוא עזרי – that he is not capable of figuring out the solution, but rather, he trusts in Hashem to do it, then עזרי מעם ה' – that triggers Hashem to bring the salvation. It's so heartwarming to see how Hashem provides solutions to problems that people thought could not be solved. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Friedman, author of the popular weekly gilyon Noam Siach , related that while he was in Bnei Brak this past month, one of his relatives told him a beautiful story about Hashem's hashgacha in his own life. Being a widower, a shidduch was suggested for him with a widow. Sometime later, both sides wanted to proceed to the next step of engagement, but there was a problem which stopped it from happening. The widower lives in Bnei Brak where he has a position as a Maggid Shiur . He also gives various shiurim in a number of other places there and learns in a kollel there. He did not want to leave Bnei Brak and move elsewhere. On the other hand, the widow was living in Yerushalayim and served as the principal of a prominent school there. She did not want to leave her job to move to a different city either, and traveling from Bnei Brak to Yerushalayim every day was not a palatable option. As a result, the shidduch was stuck. Everybody involved felt so bad, being that it seemed that these people would be a perfect match for each other. And there was no potential solution to get over this hurdle. One day, the daughter of the widower met one of the board members of the school that she works at in Bnei Brak. The board member, Mrs. D., saw that she was very preoccupied in her thoughts and seemed dejected about it. When Mrs. D. inquired about it, she told her about how badly she felt that her father wasn't getting remarried because of this issue. She mentioned the woman, who was a principal in Yerushalayim , and would not consider moving to Bnei Brak, and her father wouldn't consider moving to Yerushalayim . She also said it was hard for her to handle her father's situation, being that he was so dependent on her and her sisters to take care of all of his needs, including his meals and his household chores. When Mrs. D. heard this dilemma, she exclaimed at how this conversation was so completely orchestrated by Hashem. She then proceeded to disclose a secret that recently developed. To the daughter's astonishment, Mrs. D. told her that the principal in the school that they worked in informed them that she was going to be leaving and the entire board was worried about the challenge of finding a suitable replacement. Mrs. D. suggested they go to the president of the board and mention this widow as a candidate. “This is a very distinguished institution,” she said, “and most people would jump at an opportunity to take this position.” They went and mentioned the woman's name to the president and the president was very in favor of it, saying the woman was quite renowned and had an excellent reputation. Then they went and offered her the position. She looked into it, thought about it and eventually she accepted it. A few hours after that decision, this couple was engaged and a short time after that, they got married and settled in Bnei Brak to the delight of all involved. Hashem can bring solutions we didn't even know existed. It's up to us to realize all comes from Him and pray with that sincerity and humility.
On Petey Podcast...What are the chances that a lost dog would find its way into a school at the very moment a third grade class in that same school was reading about a lost dog at a grocery store? Well, that's exactly what happened at Eastern Heights Campus when a dog named Hershel wandered into the middle school one day for refuge. On the other side of the school, Mrs. Cindy Czerski's third grade class was reading the beloved tale, "Because of Winn-Dixie." When Mrs. Czerski learned of Hershel and how he came to be at Eastern Heights, she saw it as the perfect "teachable moment," and used it as a springboard for writing! Watch Elyria Schools PioneerTV YouTube for the video!
Ignore that Pokemon go Pidgey notification because Mrs. Guru is besieging Castle Comms in an attempt to teach the 8bitnobody proper English and COD death comms etiquette. Mrs. Guru is a seasoned COD player who is very active in the competitive scene, she has used her gaming and social media platforms to raise money for charities such as Starlight (Starlight is an organization that is battling childhood cancer). When Mrs. Guru isn't on COD or burning things (in a artsy way not a arsony way) she can be found in the coolest basement/arcade/full gym in the country chilling with a talking dog. Crack open a Liquid ice sit back heed the word of Mrs. Guru --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/castlecomms/support
Mrs. Bonnie Bracey-Sutton recognized early on in her teaching career that the town she grew up in had not offered students the level of support they needed to thrive. This realization inspired her to implement change in the education system. Two decades of diverse experiences taught her how to pioneer creativity in the classroom to bring high-quality education to each of her students. Mrs. Bonnie's success in the educational world has earned her many awards, an induction to the Alexandra African American Hall of Fame, and appointments to exclusive committees by both President Bill Clinton and Star Wars legend George Lucas. In today's episode, host DJ D-Rich sits down with Mrs. Bonnie to discuss the evolution of teaching in America. Early on in her career, Mrs. Bonnie's experience teaching in a German school developed her into the teacher she is today. Working with no resources, no supervision and a diverse group of international students forced her to get creative and think quickly on her feet. When Mrs. Bonnie came back to the US, she became one of the first teachers to promote the use of the internet in the classroom. Despite the backlash she continuously received from parents, other teachers and administrators, she never stopped fighting to better the American education system. According to Mrs. Bonnie, it doesn't take much to be an innovative educator. It just requires a little creativity. Tune into this week's episode of Southern Soul Live Stream to hear about Mrs. Bonnie's journey as an educator. Learn more about the role that technology played in her career and how you can evolve your teaching techniques to better educate America's youth. Quotes • “It was just a community effort to change things.” (12:33-12:36) • “And then I found out, I didn't have to buy stuff because if I connected with the museum, I could use their stuff. So I learned to use museums as a learning place.” (16:19-16:27) • “If you taught special ed, and if you taught gifted and talented, you could pretty much make your own program.” (18:48-18:55) • “I learned that the kids who memorize stuff and blurt it out are not the smartest kids in your class, so I learned to pay attention to the ones that didn't say very much.” (23:10-23:22) • “The vendorization has two parts. One is when they started making mandates that every kid had to pass a test at certain times, and you know they're not cookies. Even when you put cookies in the oven, they don't all brown the same way.” (26:32-26:49) • “What I really want the audience to understand is the history of education in America. In addition, in the age of technology, teaching needs to evolve, teachers need to evolve and parents need to understand the possibilities.” (01:18:42-01:19:01) Links Connect with Mrs. Bonnie Bracey-Sutton: Alexandria Va Digitalization Project at Charles Houston: https://www.alexandriaafricanamericanhalloffame.org/?p=1568 Digital Equity Network - Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/48769444884 Director of Digital Equity Resource Research And Dissemination: https://www.digitalequity.us/ Connect with Southern Soul Live Stream: • Want to listen to our next episode live? Click here to register. • Website: www.SoulLiveStream.com • Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SouthernSoulLiveStream/ • Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/southern_soul_livestream/ • Twitter: https://twitter.com/soul_livestream
Welcome back Reel Friends! This week, we landed on a very special category; Alex's Choice! With nothing holding him back like a specific genre or category, Alex chose one of his all time favorite movies Ladykillers! Ladykillers is about Professor G.H. Dorr (Tom Hanks), a courtly Southern gentleman, who arrives at the home of devout, elderly Marva Munson (Irma P. Hall), hoping to rent her extra room and use her basement to rehearse with his classical music ensemble. His fellow musicians, however, are actually criminals, and together they plan to rob a casino. When Mrs. Munson learns of their plan, they decide she must be silenced. Certainly, murdering one little old lady cannot be too difficult. Curious to hear how it ends? Then sit back, relax, and enjoy this week's episode of Spin The Reel!Don't forget to rate and subscribe! You can find us on all social media platforms under Spin The Reel Podcast. Email us your category and film suggestions at spinthereelpodcast@gmail.comEpisode Sponsor: Valkyrie Missile - For Old Times' Sakehttps://open.spotify.com/track/1s3NNTVtYG5IIuZOR16oDY?si=cd353ea4901f4577
Stories for Kids | Fantastic Story Books for Children Read Aloud
Charlotte's Web: Chapter 8 'A Talk at Home' by E.B. White | Children Book Read Aloud On Sunday morning at breakfast, Fern tells her parents the goose's eggs have hatched—all but the "dud" egg Templeton rolled away for himself. In recounting these events, Fern quotes "dialogue" from the barnyard. When Mrs. Arable realizes Fern thinks she has heard the barnyard animals talking, she gets worried. Fern's father reassures her: Fern just has a "lively imagination." Mrs. Arable, however, thinks Fern is acting very queerly and says she's going to talk to Dr. Dorian. Mr. Arable simply grins and says, "Maybe our ears aren't as sharp as Fern's." https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Charlottes-Web/chapter-8-summary/
On returning to London, Mr. Pickwick is taken to the Fleet Prison for debtors because he will not pay damages. In prison he witnesses much misery, filth, and squalor and for a brief time he is victimized by two predatory inmates. There he finds Alfred Jingle and his servant in utter destitution and gives them some assistance. Mr. Pickwick tells Sam Weller to leave him, but Sam has himself jailed for debt to be with his kindly master. Dismayed by the misery of prison, Mr. Pickwick rents a cell by himself and comes out only in the evenings. When Mrs. Bardell is arrested and jailed because she cannot pay her lawyers, Mr. Pickwick begins to soften. Further, Winkle has married Arabella and needs Mr. Pickwick to intercede for them with her brother and his own father. Finally Mr. Pickwick decides to pay costs, which releases himself and Mrs. Bardell, and he also pays Jingle's debts.
Just before 6.30am on Sunday, 29th September 1895, the residents of Shakespeare Street in Padiham were awoken from their early morning slumber by the shouts of "murder!" coming from somewhere on the back streets. Inside number 24, 41 year old Mary Ann Marsden was making her way down from her bedroom, dazed and in some considerably pain, and as she stumbled out onto the cobbled pathway, neighbours, who had rushed out from their beds to see what the commotion was, froze in fear at the sight that confronted them. Covered in blood and holding a hatchet, Mary walked a few steps before finally succumbing to the shock and obvious pain she was suffering from. Mary and William Marsden had been married for around 18 years and apart from the last twelve months, where they had been living together in a relatively happy fashion, they had been separated for the previous ten years due to an argument attributed to Williams health. At the age of 19, William suffered from a fall that left him with a serious head injury which in turn, would lead to a life suffering from severe depression as well as the odd violent outburst. Attended by Dr. Duerdan, he spent his early years living in Great Harwood where he would eventually meet Mary and they would eventually go on to being married. Unfortunately, after five years of marriage, Mary and William would separate and William would go on to live with his sister in Great Harwood before relocating to Padiham to live with Mr and Mrs Lingard, partners of Jubilee Mill, where he was employed as a weaver. Meanwhile, Mary had moved in with her mother, Catherine, who also lived in Padiham. When Mrs. Lingard passed away several years later, Mary took William back and both lived together at number 24 Shakespeare Street, only a few minutes' walk from where he worked at nearby Jubilee Mill. William was a quiet, inoffensive man and was much respected by all those he came in contact with. He was at one time a drummer for the Salvation Army Brass Band, being one of the last to walk behind them when participating in a procession. On Thursday, 26th September 1895, William visited his sister in Great Harwood, but feeling unwell he told her his head was "like a lump of wood!" and that he could never remember things. He would also tell her, "I would give £1,000 if my head was right." Acting and sounding strange, as well as looking lost, his sister was worried about his mental state of health but rather than try and seek help, William left shortly after to make his way back home. Prior to this visit, Mary, William and their only son, 16 years old Joseph spent a week in Blackpool on the advice of Dr. Grant, who had been treating William for melancholy for the past 3 weeks. He thought a break would help William. But unfortunately, on the 29th September, just one week after their mini-break, things would take a terrible change for the worse.
Professor G.H. Dorr (Tom Hanks), a courtly Southern gentleman, arrives at the home of devout, elderly Marva Munson (Irma P. Hall), hoping to rent her extra room and use her basement to rehearse with his classical music ensemble. His fellow musicians, however, are actually criminals, and together they plan to rob a casino. When Mrs. Munson learns of their plan, they decide she must be silenced. Certainly, murdering one little old lady cannot be too difficult. Check out the episode on Youtube, iTunes and Google Play. You can reach us at theironkoob@gmail.com and on Instagram @theironkoob If you have not seen the Review of the Week and would like to avoid spoilers, check the show notes for the timestamp so you can still hear our news sections. I. Review of the Week A. Synopsis and Ratings B. The Ladykillers in SPOILERS (5:00) II. Fight of the Week (12:00) III. Roundup (15:00) 1. The People vs OJ 2. Arrival IV. Gaming (16:00) 1. COD: Outbreak 2. Valheim V. Trailers (20:00) 1. Jupiter's Legacy 2. Army of the Dead VI. Everette's Game of Smart Ass (25:00) VII. News (33:00) 1. More Ray Fisher 2. Black Superman 3. Batman Beyond 4. Jennifer Lawrence FF4 5. Loki Premier Date 6. Russo Bros Return 7. Ezra Bridger 8. Shang Chi's Costume 9. Spider-Man Title 10. Avatar Studios
The GROUNDO Club. Sharing, Caring and Connecting Kids (and Families)
The Gem family is in Hawaii on vacation. When Mrs. Gem announces she's booked hula dancing lessons for the whole family, GROUNDO is not happy. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/thegroundoclub/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/thegroundoclub/support
This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home, This little piggy had roast beef This little piggy had none, And this little piggy cried wee wee wee all the way home. The Little Pig who Went to Market. There was once a family of Five Little Pigs, and Mrs. Pig, their mother, loved them all very dearly. Some of these little pigs were very good and took a great deal of trouble to please her. The eldest pig was so active and useful that he was called Mr. Pig. One day he went to market with his cart full of vegetables, but Rusty, the donkey, began to show his bad temper before he had gone very far on the road. All the coaxing and whipping would not make him move. So, Mr. Pig took him out of the shafts, and being very strong, drew the cart to market himself. When he got there, all the other pigs began to laugh. But they did not laugh so loudly when Mr. Pig told them all his struggles on the road. Mr. Pig lost no time in selling his vegetables, and very soon after Rusty came trotting into the market-place, and as he now seemed willing to take his place in the cart, Mr. Pig started for home without delay. When he got there, he told Mrs. Pig his story, and she called him her best and most worthy son. The Little Pig who Stayed at Home. This little pig very much wanted to go with his brother, but as he was so mischievous that he could not be trusted far away, his mother made him stay at home, and told him to keep a good fire while she went out to the miller's to buy some flour. But as soon as he was alone, instead of learning his lessons, he began to tease the poor cat. Then he got the bellows, and cut the leather with a knife, so as to see where the wind came from: and when he could not find this out, he began to cry. After this he broke all his brother's toys; he forced the drum-stick through the drum, he tore off the tail from the kite, and then pulled off the horse's head. And then he went to the cupboard and ate the jam. When Mrs. Pig came home, she sat down by the fire, and being very tired, she soon fell asleep. No sooner had she done so, than this bad little pig got a long handkerchief and tied her in her chair. But soon she awoke and found out all the mischief that he had been doing. She saw at once the damage that he had done to his brother's playthings. So, she quickly brought out her thickest and heaviest birch, and gave this naughty little pig such a beating as he did not forget for a long time. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/uirapuru/message
"The Monkey's Paw" is a supernatural short story by author W. W. Jacobs, first published in England in the collection "The Lady of the Barge" in 1902. In the story, three wishes are granted to the owner of The Monkey's Paw, but the wishes come with an enormous price for interfering with fate The White family prevents a guest from destroying a monkey's paw that has the power to grant wishes. Mr. White wishes for money, which he is granted by the factory his son works at after his son's gruesome death. They then wish for their son to come back, and something knocks at the door. When Mrs. White opens the door, nothing is there, as Mr. White's third wish caused whoever was there to disappear.
At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head. It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes. “Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. “What is it?” “It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing.” “I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.” “Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting anything else of interest. “I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half and half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to.” “And what of Irene Adler?” I asked. “Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign. “This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation.” “I am following you closely,” I answered. “I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home. “He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,' he shouted, ‘first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!' “Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. “‘The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' “This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St. Monica,' said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind. “My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me. “‘' he cried. ‘You'll do. Come! Come!' “‘What then?' I asked. “‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won't be legal.' “I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch-chain in memory of the occasion.” “This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what then?” “Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements.” “Which are?” “Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation.” “I shall be delighted.” “You don't mind breaking the law?” “Not in the least.” “Nor running a chance of arrest?” “Not in a good cause.” “Oh, the cause is excellent!” “Then I am your man.” “I was sure that I might rely on you.” “But what is it you wish?” “When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.” “And what then?” “You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?” “I am to be neutral?” “To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window.” “Yes.” “You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.” “Yes.” “And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You quite follow me?” “Entirely.” “It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?” “I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street.” “Precisely.” “Then you may entirely rely on me.” “That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play.” He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime. It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths. “You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?” “Where, indeed?” “It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her.” “Where, then?” “Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house.” “But it has twice been burgled.” “Pshaw! They did not know how to look.” “But how will you look?” “I will not look.” “What then?” “I will get her to show me.” “But she will refuse.” “She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.” As he spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but just as he reached her he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better-dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back into the street. “Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked. “He is dead,” cried several voices. “No, no, there's life in him!” shouted another. “But he'll be gone before you can get him to hospital.” “He's a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he's breathing now.” “He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?” “Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!” Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another. Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant-maids—joined in a general shriek of “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. “You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have been better. It is all right.” “You have the photograph?” “I know where it is.” “And how did you find out?” “She showed me, as I told you she would.” “I am still in the dark.” “I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.” “I guessed as much.” “Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” “That also I could fathom.” “Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance.” “How did that help you?” “It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.” “And now?” I asked. “Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands.” “And when will you call?” “At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay.” We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: “Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.” There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by. “I've heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”
The most important thing to understand about A Wrinkle In Time is that it is based on a novel that is aimed at pre-teens. So it is positive. Get over it. But the fact that it is based on a tween novel means the movie moves slower than it should and some plot points are oversimplified. It's sad because I wish I had more positive things to say about the movie. Minor spoilers ahead. Director Ava Duvernay's Wrinkle is a love letter to pre-teen girls. It encourages them to stand up for what they believe in and not be afraid of their intelligence. Protagonist Meg Murry (Storm Reid) is consistently encouraged to acknowledge her beauty. This is when the movie is at its best. When Mrs. Which (Oprah Winfrey) takes Meg aside to explain how everything in the universe has led to her being exactly who she needs to be, the movie sings. It is exactly the message that tween girls -- and maybe everyone -- needs to hear. And I can't speak enough positive things about 9-year-old Deric McCabe, who plays Charles Wallace. The entire third act of the movie is placed on his shoulders and he rises to the occasion as the best actor in the movie. When Light Turns to Darkness However, any light that escapes from the film is certainly dimmed by the first 30 to 45 minutes. Audiences must endure pacing that is at a crawl and acting that feels like it belongs in a high school auditorium. The first act does little to draw in those who haven't read the book. It introduces characters like Mrs. What's It (Reese Witherspoon) and Mrs. Who (Mindy Kaling) with such a casual nature that it's hard to be invested in the characters. Calvin (Levi Miller) receives no introduction whatsoever which makes him a character of little consequence. The film tries, but it never quite captures the magic that has caused so many children to fall in love with it over the years. Final Rating: 7/10
Brad Sullivan Proper 16, Year B August 26, 2018 Emmanuel, Houston Joshua 24:1-2a,14-18 Ephesians 6:10-20 John 6:56-69 Choose Whom You Will Serve Eat “Choose whom you will serve,” Joshua said to the Israelites. Will you serve God, or will you serve some foreign false god or idol? Joshua had taken over leadership of Israel from Moses just before they entered the promised land after fleeing from Egypt and spending 40 years in the desert. In today’s passage, Israel had finished settling the promised land, the territory was all divided up, so, Joshua was leading the people in renewing their covenant with God. Choose whom you will serve. In the context of our Gospel reading today, I think it might be more appropriate to say, “Choose whom you will eat.” I know; it sounds bad, but Jesus said that those who eat his flesh and drink his blood abide in him, and he abides in them. Of course, Jesus is not talking about literal eating. Instead of saying, “go eat Jesus,” think instead about, “having a diet” of Jesus. If I were to say, “I have a pretty steady diet of Jimmy Fallon in the evenings,” I think you would all understand that I mean I watch the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon most evenings. I don’t actually do that, but I needed an example that most everyone would get. We don’t say, “I eat people,” but we do talk about having diets of a particular person’s music or writing, teachings or commentary. So, Jesus is telling his disciples to have a pretty steady diet of him. Spiritual food. Soul food. Heart food. Heck, even brain food. I tend to have problems when I choose food other than Jesus. I tend to get frustrated pretty easily; I’ll make comments under my breath, roll my eyes, the kind of general nastiness that is terribly destructive, even if it is sometimes seen as no big deal. Such nastiness, such disdain for another is a big deal. It reduces the beautiful, beloved humans around us to contemptuous things to be conquered. I was reminded of this recently. Such behavior is not the way of Jesus, and such behavior comes from eating any of a thousand things other than Jesus. When we’re calm and at peace with one another, in good times or in bad, it’s a good bet we’ve been feeding ourselves with Jesus. On the other hand, when the little things leave us angry, resentful, contemptuous, it’s a good bet we’ve been eating something else. There’s the old Cherokee proverb which says there are two wolves inside of each of us struggling for control. One of the wolves is darkness and anger, violence and hatred. The other wolf is light and peace, compassion and love. Which one wins depends on which one we choose to feed. So, how do we feed the good wolf? How do we make a diet of Jesus? Well, there are thousands of ways to make Jesus our soul food diet…at least 42 ways to make a diet of Jesus. One way I made a diet of Jesus back in high school was reading scripture every night and praying just before going to sleep. This practice filled my soul and gave me visions of what life can be. Paul’s words from Ephesians from a couple of weeks ago: “Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” More than good advice, more than a command to try harder and do better, these words from Paul give a vision of what life is like when we make a steady diet of Jesus. Reading or remembering Paul’s words; putting away all anger, and wrangling, and slander; being kind, tenderhearted, and forgiving; I picture myself living those words in daily life. I breathe Paul’s words in and let them feed my soul, feed the good wolf, and for those moments, I am what Paul describes. My anger melts away and in its place, forgiveness, healing, and love fill my body and soul. Scripture of one way to make a diet of Jesus. Prayer is another: sometimes with words, sometimes in the silence of the moment, simply being present to God in creation all around you. Eucharist is a way to make a diet of Jesus. Prayer and bible study with others. Serving people around you. Allowing people to serve you when you are in need. Not responding to someone when angry or upset, but waiting until you are at peace so your response can honor the made in God’s image human being in front of you. Noticing…simply noticing the lives of those around you, choosing not to be indifferent to the lives and the challenges of those around you. All of these and so many more are ways to make a diet of Jesus. See, God desires lives of peace and wholeness for each of us, and, in the realm of , “you are what you eat,” God offers himself as our soul food so that we may have lives of peace and wholeness. Last week in a radio interview on NPR with a young woman whose life was made whole and set on a new path when she chose to make a steady diet of Jesus. Lulu Garcia-Navarro* was interviewing Yvonne Orji, a comedian and actress in the HBO show, Insecure, and she described her character in the show as “a beautiful mess.” She can’t quite get life together, doesn’t have great relationships with guys, though she keeps trying, dislikes her job, and is basically struggling in a life that she doesn’t know how to manage. When Mrs. Orji, first got the script, she said that the character in the show was who she would have been like if she hadn’t gotten saved when she was 17. She’d grown up as a Christian, but not necessarily making a diet of Jesus. In college, she was planning on going kinda nuts with her newfound freedom and likely make a lot of mistakes which could have had some lifelong consequences. Then she went to a Bible study and heard a woman there refer to God as “Daddy.” That seemed odd to her, calling God “daddy, but she said, “there was something so pure and passionate about [this woman’s] relationship with God that caused that to not be weird for her.” Yvonne decided she wanted that, whatever she had to do, and she stared making a diet of Jesus. That changed the course of her life, gave her strength and security to follow where God was directing her, which was different that what her parents wanted for her, and brought her to a place of peace and wholeness, living a life that she never imagined. That’s what happens when we make a diet of Jesus. Rather than the unhealthy chaos that comes from filling our souls with all the junk food out there, making a diet of Jesus brings us peace and wholeness, and even new direction, that we may never have imagined, or maybe have only imagined. So I leave you with an imagining, with an image of what life on a steady diet of Jesus can look like, in the words of Terri Hendrix in her song called, The Last Song. May your peace be an anchor in stormy times. May your hope run like a river that will never run dry. May your burdens grow light; May your worries subside. This is my prayer for you.** * https://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=639321123 ** https://terrihendrix.bandcamp.com/album/wilory-farm
New Adventures of Nero Wolfe starring Sydney Greenstreet, originally broadcast February 23, 1951, 67 years ago. The Case of the Malevolent Medic. Mrs. Hal Horton, the wife of a wealthy industrialist, is in love with her doctor. However, Dr. Ben Sloane is planning to marry his nurse. When Mrs. Horton dies in the doctor's office, Mr. Horton suspects foul play.
But when at last I met Charles Strickland, it was under circumstances which allowed me to do no more than just make his acquaintance. One morning Mrs. Strickland sent me round a note to say that she was giving a dinner-party that evening, and one of her guests had failed her. She asked me to stop the gap. She wrote:"It's only decent to warn you that you will be bored to extinction. It was a thoroughly dull party from the beginning, but if you will come I shall be uncommonly grateful. And you and I can have a little chat by ourselves. "It was only neighbourly to accept.When Mrs. Strickland introduced me to her husband, he gave me a rather indifferent hand to shake. Turning to him gaily, she attempted a small jest."I asked him to show him that I really had a husband. I think he was beginning to doubt it. "Strickland gave the polite little laugh with which people acknowledge a facetiousness in which they see nothing funny, but did not speak. New arrivals claimed my host's attention, and I was left to myself. When at last we were all assembled, waiting for dinner to be announced, I reflected, while I chatted with the woman I had been asked to "take in, " that civilised man practises a strange ingenuity in wasting on tedious exercises the brief span of his life. It was the kind of party which makes you wonder why the hostess has troubled to bid her guests, and why the guests have troubled to come. There were ten people. They met with indifference, and would part with relief. It was, of course, a purely social function. The Stricklands "owed" dinners to a number of persons, whom they took no interest in, and so had asked them; these persons had accepted. Why? To avoid the tedium of dining tete-a-tete, to give their servants a rest, because there was no reason to refuse, because they were "owed" a dinner.The dining-room was inconveniently crowded. There was a K. C. and his wife, a Government official and his wife, Mrs. Strickland's sister and her husband, Colonel MacAndrew, and the wife of a Member of Parliament. It was because the Member of Parliament found that he could not leave the House that I had been invited. The respectability of the party was portentous. The women were too nice to be well dressed, and too sure of their position to be amusing. The men were solid. There was about all of them an air of well-satisfied prosperity.Everyone talked a little louder than natural in an instinctive desire to make the party go, and there was a great deal of noise in the room. But there was no general conversation. Each one talked to his neighbour; to his neighbour on the right during the soup, fish, and entree; to his neighbour on the left during the roast, sweet, and savoury. They talked of the political situation and of golf, of their children and the latest play, of the pictures at the Royal Academy, of the weather and their plans for the holidays. There was never a pause, and the noise grew louder. Mrs. Strickland might congratulate herself that her party was a success. Her husband played his part with decorum. Perhaps he did not talk very much, and I fancied there was towards the end a look of fatigue in the faces of the women on either side of him. They were finding him heavy. Once or twice Mrs. Strickland's eyes rested on him somewhat anxiously.At last she rose and shepherded the ladies out of one room. Strickland shut the door behind her, and, moving to the other end of the table, took his place between the K. C. and the Government official. He passed round the port again and handed us cigars. The K. C. remarked on the excellence of the wine, and Strickland told us where he got it. We began to chat about vintages and tobacco. The K. C. told us of a case he was engaged in, and the Colonel talked about polo. I had nothing to say and so sat silent, trying politely to show interest in the conversation; and because I thought no one was in the least concerned with me, examined Strickland at my ease. He was bigger than I expected: I do not know why I had imagined him slender and of insignificant appearance; in point of fact he was broad and heavy, with large hands and feet, and he wore his evening clothes clumsily. He gave you somewhat the idea of a coachman dressed up for the occasion.He was a man of forty, not good-looking, and yet not ugly, for his features were rather good; but they were all a little larger than life-size, and the effect was ungainly. He was clean shaven, and his large face looked uncomfortably naked. His hair was reddish, cut very short, and his eyes were small, blue or grey. He looked commonplace. I no longer wondered that Mrs. Strickland felt a certain embarrassment about him; he was scarcely a credit to a woman who wanted to make herself a position in the world of art and letters. It was obvious that he had no social gifts, but these a man can do without; he had no eccentricity even, to take him out of the common run; he was just a good, dull, honest, plain man. One would admire his excellent qualities, but avoid his company. He was null. He was probably a worthy member of society, a good husband and father, an honest broker; but there was no reason to waste one's time over him.但是最后我同查理斯·思特里克兰德见面，并不是在思特里克兰德太太说的那种情况下。她请我吃饭的那天晚上，除了她丈夫以外，我还结识了另外几个人。这天早上，思特里克兰德太太派人给我送来一张条子，告诉我她当天晚上要请客，有一个客人临时有事不能出席。她请我填补这个空缺。条子是这么写的：我要预先声明，你将会厌烦得要命。从一开始我就知道这是一次枯燥乏味的宴客。但是如果你能来的话，我是非常感激的。咱们两个人总还可以谈一谈。我不能不帮她这个忙；我接受了她的邀请。当思特里克兰德太太把我介绍给她丈夫的时候，他不冷不热地同我握了握手。思特里克兰德太太的情绪很高，转身对他说了一句开玩笑的话。“我请他来是要叫他看看我真的是有丈夫的。我想他已经开始怀疑了。”思特里克兰德很有礼貌地笑了笑，就象那些承认你说了一个笑话而又不觉得有什么可笑的人一样，他并没有说什么。又来了别的客人，需要主人去周旋，我被丢在一边。当最后客人都已到齐，只等着宣布开饭的时候，我一边和一位叫我“陪同”的女客随便闲谈，一边思忖：文明社会这样消磨自己的心智，把短促的生命浪费在无聊的应酬上实在令人莫解。拿这一天的宴会来说，你不能不感到奇怪为什么女主人要请这些客人来，而为什么这些客人也会不嫌麻烦，接受邀请。当天一共有十位宾客。这些人见面时冷冷淡淡，分手时更有一种如释重负的感觉。当然了，这只是完成一次社交义务。思特里克兰德夫妇在人家吃过饭，“欠下”许多人情，对这些人他们本来是丝毫不感兴趣的。但是他们还是不得不回请这些人，而这些人也都应邀而来了。为什么这样做？是为了避免吃饭时总是夫妻对坐的厌烦，为了让仆人休息半天，还是因为没有理由谢绝，因为该着吃别人一顿饭？谁也说不清。餐厅非常拥挤，让人感到很不舒服。这些人中有一位皇家法律顾问和夫人，一位政府官员和夫人，思特里克兰德太太的姐姐和姐夫麦克安德鲁上校，还有一位议员的妻子。正是因为议员发现自己不能离开议院我才临时被请来补缺。这些客人的身份都非常高贵。女太太们因为知道自己的气派，所以并不太讲究衣着，而且因为知道自己的地位，也不想去讨人高兴。男人们个个雍容华贵。总之，所有这里的人都带着一种殷实富足、踌躇满志的神色。每个人都想叫宴会热闹一些，所以谈话的嗓门都比平常高了许多，屋子里一片喧哗。但是从来没有大家共同谈一件事的时候，每个人都在同他的邻座谈话，吃汤、鱼和小菜的当儿同右边的人谈，吃烤肉、甜食和开胃小吃的当儿同左边的人谈。他们谈政治形势，谈高尔夫球，谈孩子和新上演的戏，谈皇家艺术学院展出的绘画，谈天气，谈度假的计划。谈话一刻也没有中断过，声音也越来越响。思特里克兰德太太的宴会非常成功，她可以感到庆幸。她的丈夫举止非常得体。也许他没有谈很多话，我觉得饭快吃完的时候，坐在他两边的女客脸容都有些疲惫。她们肯定认为很难同他谈什么。有一两次思特里克兰德太太的目光带着些焦虑地落在他身上。最后，她站起来，带着一群女客离开屋子。在她们走出去以后，思特里克兰德把门关上，走到桌子的另一头，在皇家法律顾问和那位政府官员中间坐下来。他又一次把红葡萄酒传过来，给客人递雪茄。皇家法律顾问称赞酒很好，思特里克兰德告诉我们他是从什么地方买来的。我们开始谈论起酿酒同烟草来。皇家法律顾问给大家说了他正在审理的一个案件，上校谈起打马球的事。我没有什么事好说，所以只是坐在那里，装作很有礼貌地津津有味地听着别人谈话的样子。因为我知道这些人谁都和我无关，所以就从从容容地仔细打量起思特里克兰德来。他比我想象中的要高大一些；我不知道为什么我以前会认为他比较纤弱，貌不出众。实际上他生得魁梧壮实，大手大脚，晚礼服穿在身上有些笨拙，给人的印象多少同一个装扮起来参加宴会的马车夫差不多。他年纪约四十岁，相貌谈不上漂亮，但也不难看，因为他的五官都很端正，只不过都比一般人大了一号，所以显得有些粗笨。他的胡须刮得很干净，一张大脸光秃秃的让人看着很不舒服。他的头发颜色发红，剪得很短，眼睛比较小，是蓝色或者灰色的。他的相貌很平凡。我不再奇怪为什么思特里克兰德太太谈起他来总是有些不好意思了；对于一个想在文学艺术界取得一个位置的女人来说，他是很难给她增加光彩的。很清楚，他一点儿也没有社交的本领，但这也不一定人人都要有的。他甚至没有什么奇行怪癖，使他免于平凡庸俗之嫌。他只不过是一个忠厚老实、索然无味的普通人。一个人可以钦佩他的为人，却不愿意同他待在一起。他是一个毫不引人注意的人。他可能是一个令人起敬的社会成员，一个诚实的经纪人，一个恪尽职责的丈夫和父亲，但是在他身上你没有任何必要浪费时间。
But when at last I met Charles Strickland, it was under circumstances which allowed me to do no more than just make his acquaintance. One morning Mrs. Strickland sent me round a note to say that she was giving a dinner-party that evening, and one of her guests had failed her. She asked me to stop the gap. She wrote:"It's only decent to warn you that you will be bored to extinction. It was a thoroughly dull party from the beginning, but if you will come I shall be uncommonly grateful. And you and I can have a little chat by ourselves. "It was only neighbourly to accept.When Mrs. Strickland introduced me to her husband, he gave me a rather indifferent hand to shake. Turning to him gaily, she attempted a small jest."I asked him to show him that I really had a husband. I think he was beginning to doubt it. "Strickland gave the polite little laugh with which people acknowledge a facetiousness in which they see nothing funny, but did not speak. New arrivals claimed my host's attention, and I was left to myself. When at last we were all assembled, waiting for dinner to be announced, I reflected, while I chatted with the woman I had been asked to "take in, " that civilised man practises a strange ingenuity in wasting on tedious exercises the brief span of his life. It was the kind of party which makes you wonder why the hostess has troubled to bid her guests, and why the guests have troubled to come. There were ten people. They met with indifference, and would part with relief. It was, of course, a purely social function. The Stricklands "owed" dinners to a number of persons, whom they took no interest in, and so had asked them; these persons had accepted. Why? To avoid the tedium of dining tete-a-tete, to give their servants a rest, because there was no reason to refuse, because they were "owed" a dinner.The dining-room was inconveniently crowded. There was a K. C. and his wife, a Government official and his wife, Mrs. Strickland's sister and her husband, Colonel MacAndrew, and the wife of a Member of Parliament. It was because the Member of Parliament found that he could not leave the House that I had been invited. The respectability of the party was portentous. The women were too nice to be well dressed, and too sure of their position to be amusing. The men were solid. There was about all of them an air of well-satisfied prosperity.Everyone talked a little louder than natural in an instinctive desire to make the party go, and there was a great deal of noise in the room. But there was no general conversation. Each one talked to his neighbour; to his neighbour on the right during the soup, fish, and entree; to his neighbour on the left during the roast, sweet, and savoury. They talked of the political situation and of golf, of their children and the latest play, of the pictures at the Royal Academy, of the weather and their plans for the holidays. There was never a pause, and the noise grew louder. Mrs. Strickland might congratulate herself that her party was a success. Her husband played his part with decorum. Perhaps he did not talk very much, and I fancied there was towards the end a look of fatigue in the faces of the women on either side of him. They were finding him heavy. Once or twice Mrs. Strickland's eyes rested on him somewhat anxiously.At last she rose and shepherded the ladies out of one room. Strickland shut the door behind her, and, moving to the other end of the table, took his place between the K. C. and the Government official. He passed round the port again and handed us cigars. The K. C. remarked on the excellence of the wine, and Strickland told us where he got it. We began to chat about vintages and tobacco. The K. C. told us of a case he was engaged in, and the Colonel talked about polo. I had nothing to say and so sat silent, trying politely to show interest in the conversation; and because I thought no one was in the least concerned with me, examined Strickland at my ease. He was bigger than I expected: I do not know why I had imagined him slender and of insignificant appearance; in point of fact he was broad and heavy, with large hands and feet, and he wore his evening clothes clumsily. He gave you somewhat the idea of a coachman dressed up for the occasion.He was a man of forty, not good-looking, and yet not ugly, for his features were rather good; but they were all a little larger than life-size, and the effect was ungainly. He was clean shaven, and his large face looked uncomfortably naked. His hair was reddish, cut very short, and his eyes were small, blue or grey. He looked commonplace. I no longer wondered that Mrs. Strickland felt a certain embarrassment about him; he was scarcely a credit to a woman who wanted to make herself a position in the world of art and letters. It was obvious that he had no social gifts, but these a man can do without; he had no eccentricity even, to take him out of the common run; he was just a good, dull, honest, plain man. One would admire his excellent qualities, but avoid his company. He was null. He was probably a worthy member of society, a good husband and father, an honest broker; but there was no reason to waste one's time over him.但是最后我同查理斯·思特里克兰德见面，并不是在思特里克兰德太太说的那种情况下。她请我吃饭的那天晚上，除了她丈夫以外，我还结识了另外几个人。这天早上，思特里克兰德太太派人给我送来一张条子，告诉我她当天晚上要请客，有一个客人临时有事不能出席。她请我填补这个空缺。条子是这么写的：我要预先声明，你将会厌烦得要命。从一开始我就知道这是一次枯燥乏味的宴客。但是如果你能来的话，我是非常感激的。咱们两个人总还可以谈一谈。我不能不帮她这个忙；我接受了她的邀请。当思特里克兰德太太把我介绍给她丈夫的时候，他不冷不热地同我握了握手。思特里克兰德太太的情绪很高，转身对他说了一句开玩笑的话。“我请他来是要叫他看看我真的是有丈夫的。我想他已经开始怀疑了。”思特里克兰德很有礼貌地笑了笑，就象那些承认你说了一个笑话而又不觉得有什么可笑的人一样，他并没有说什么。又来了别的客人，需要主人去周旋，我被丢在一边。当最后客人都已到齐，只等着宣布开饭的时候，我一边和一位叫我“陪同”的女客随便闲谈，一边思忖：文明社会这样消磨自己的心智，把短促的生命浪费在无聊的应酬上实在令人莫解。拿这一天的宴会来说，你不能不感到奇怪为什么女主人要请这些客人来，而为什么这些客人也会不嫌麻烦，接受邀请。当天一共有十位宾客。这些人见面时冷冷淡淡，分手时更有一种如释重负的感觉。当然了，这只是完成一次社交义务。思特里克兰德夫妇在人家吃过饭，“欠下”许多人情，对这些人他们本来是丝毫不感兴趣的。但是他们还是不得不回请这些人，而这些人也都应邀而来了。为什么这样做？是为了避免吃饭时总是夫妻对坐的厌烦，为了让仆人休息半天，还是因为没有理由谢绝，因为该着吃别人一顿饭？谁也说不清。餐厅非常拥挤，让人感到很不舒服。这些人中有一位皇家法律顾问和夫人，一位政府官员和夫人，思特里克兰德太太的姐姐和姐夫麦克安德鲁上校，还有一位议员的妻子。正是因为议员发现自己不能离开议院我才临时被请来补缺。这些客人的身份都非常高贵。女太太们因为知道自己的气派，所以并不太讲究衣着，而且因为知道自己的地位，也不想去讨人高兴。男人们个个雍容华贵。总之，所有这里的人都带着一种殷实富足、踌躇满志的神色。每个人都想叫宴会热闹一些，所以谈话的嗓门都比平常高了许多，屋子里一片喧哗。但是从来没有大家共同谈一件事的时候，每个人都在同他的邻座谈话，吃汤、鱼和小菜的当儿同右边的人谈，吃烤肉、甜食和开胃小吃的当儿同左边的人谈。他们谈政治形势，谈高尔夫球，谈孩子和新上演的戏，谈皇家艺术学院展出的绘画，谈天气，谈度假的计划。谈话一刻也没有中断过，声音也越来越响。思特里克兰德太太的宴会非常成功，她可以感到庆幸。她的丈夫举止非常得体。也许他没有谈很多话，我觉得饭快吃完的时候，坐在他两边的女客脸容都有些疲惫。她们肯定认为很难同他谈什么。有一两次思特里克兰德太太的目光带着些焦虑地落在他身上。最后，她站起来，带着一群女客离开屋子。在她们走出去以后，思特里克兰德把门关上，走到桌子的另一头，在皇家法律顾问和那位政府官员中间坐下来。他又一次把红葡萄酒传过来，给客人递雪茄。皇家法律顾问称赞酒很好，思特里克兰德告诉我们他是从什么地方买来的。我们开始谈论起酿酒同烟草来。皇家法律顾问给大家说了他正在审理的一个案件，上校谈起打马球的事。我没有什么事好说，所以只是坐在那里，装作很有礼貌地津津有味地听着别人谈话的样子。因为我知道这些人谁都和我无关，所以就从从容容地仔细打量起思特里克兰德来。他比我想象中的要高大一些；我不知道为什么我以前会认为他比较纤弱，貌不出众。实际上他生得魁梧壮实，大手大脚，晚礼服穿在身上有些笨拙，给人的印象多少同一个装扮起来参加宴会的马车夫差不多。他年纪约四十岁，相貌谈不上漂亮，但也不难看，因为他的五官都很端正，只不过都比一般人大了一号，所以显得有些粗笨。他的胡须刮得很干净，一张大脸光秃秃的让人看着很不舒服。他的头发颜色发红，剪得很短，眼睛比较小，是蓝色或者灰色的。他的相貌很平凡。我不再奇怪为什么思特里克兰德太太谈起他来总是有些不好意思了；对于一个想在文学艺术界取得一个位置的女人来说，他是很难给她增加光彩的。很清楚，他一点儿也没有社交的本领，但这也不一定人人都要有的。他甚至没有什么奇行怪癖，使他免于平凡庸俗之嫌。他只不过是一个忠厚老实、索然无味的普通人。一个人可以钦佩他的为人，却不愿意同他待在一起。他是一个毫不引人注意的人。他可能是一个令人起敬的社会成员，一个诚实的经纪人，一个恪尽职责的丈夫和父亲，但是在他身上你没有任何必要浪费时间。
ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIAI.To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory. I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own. His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion. “Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.” “Seven!” I answered. “Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness.” “Then, how do you know?” “I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?” “My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.” He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together. “It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.” I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.” “Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room.” “Frequently.” “How often?” “Well, some hundreds of times.” “Then how many are there?” “How many? I don't know.” “Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this.” He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.” The note was undated, and without either signature or address. “There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock,” it said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.” “This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it means?” “I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?” I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written. “The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. “Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff.” “Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light.” I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G” with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper. “What do you make of that?” asked Holmes. “The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.” “Not at all. The ‘G' with the small ‘t' stands for ‘Gesellschaft,' which is the German for ‘Company.' It is a customary contraction like our ‘Co.' ‘P,' of course, stands for ‘Papier.' Now for the ‘Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer.” He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz—here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country—in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. ‘Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?” His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette. “The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said. “Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts.” As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled. “A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else.” “I think that I had better go, Holmes.” “Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.” “But your client—” “Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention.” A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative tap. “Come in!” said Holmes. A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy. “You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. “Pray take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?” “You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone.” I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.” The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said he, “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history.” “I promise,” said Holmes. “And I.” “You will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own.” “I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly. “The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia.” “I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes. Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client. “If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.” The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You are right,” he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?” “Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia.” “But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.” “Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. “The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.” “Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes. “Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858. Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in London—quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back.” “Precisely so. But how—” “Was there a secret marriage?” “None.” “No legal papers or certificates?” “None.” “Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?” “There is the writing.” “Pooh, pooh! Forgery.” “My private note-paper.” “Stolen.” “My own seal.” “Imitated.” “My photograph.” “Bought.” “We were both in the photograph.” “Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion.” “I was mad—insane.” “You have compromised yourself seriously.” “I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.” “It must be recovered.” “We have tried and failed.” “Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.” “She will not sell.” “Stolen, then.” “Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result.” “No sign of it?” “Absolutely none.” Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he. “But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully. “Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?” “To ruin me.” “But how?” “I am about to be married.” “So I have heard.” “To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end.” “And Irene Adler?” “Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go—none.” “You are sure that she has not sent it yet?” “I am sure.” “And why?” “Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.” “Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?” “Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm.” “Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.” “Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.” “Then, as to money?” “You have carte blanche.” “Absolutely?” “I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph.” “And for present expenses?” The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table. “There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” he said. Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to him. “And Mademoiselle's address?” he asked. “Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood.” Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the photograph a cabinet?” “It was.” “Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you.” II. At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head. It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes. “Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. “What is it?” “It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing.” “I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.” “Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting anything else of interest. “I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to.” “And what of Irene Adler?” I asked. “Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign. “This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation.” “I am following you closely,” I answered. “I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home. “He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,' he shouted, ‘first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!' “Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. “ ‘The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' “This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of St. Monica,' said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind. “My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me. “ ‘Thank God,' he cried. ‘You'll do. Come! Come!' “ ‘What then?' I asked. “ ‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won't be legal.' “I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the occasion.” “This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what then?” “Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements.” “Which are?” “Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation.” “I shall be delighted.” “You don't mind breaking the law?” “Not in the least.” “Nor running a chance of arrest?” “Not in a good cause.” “Oh, the cause is excellent!” “Then I am your man.” “I was sure that I might rely on you.” “But what is it you wish?” “When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.” “And what then?” “You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?” “I am to be neutral?” “To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window.” “Yes.” “You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.” “Yes.” “And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You quite follow me?” “Entirely.” “It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?” “I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street.” “Precisely.” “Then you may entirely rely on me.” “That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play.” He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime. It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths. “You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?” “Where, indeed?” “It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her.” “Where, then?” “Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house.” “But it has twice been burgled.” “Pshaw! They did not know how to look.” “But how will you look?” “I will not look.” “What then?” “I will get her to show me.” “But she will refuse.” “She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.” As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back into the street. “Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked. “He is dead,” cried several voices. “No, no, there's life in him!” shouted another. “But he'll be gone before you can get him to hospital.” “He's a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he's breathing now.” “He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?” “Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!” Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another. Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant maids—joined in a general shriek of “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. “You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have been better. It is all right.” “You have the photograph?” “I know where it is.” “And how did you find out?” “She showed me, as I told you she would.” “I am still in the dark.” “I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.” “I guessed as much.” “Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” “That also I could fathom.” “Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance.” “How did that help you?” “It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.” “And now?” I asked. “Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands.” “And when will you call?” “At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay.” We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: “Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.” There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by. “I've heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.” III. I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room. “You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. “Not yet.” “But you have hopes?” “I have hopes.” “Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.” “We must have a cab.” “No, my brougham is waiting.” “Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge. “Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes. “Married! When?” “Yesterday.” “But to whom?” “To an English lawyer named Norton.” “But she could not love him.” “I am in hopes that she does.” “And why in hopes?” “Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan.” “It is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham. “Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she. “I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze. “Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent.” “What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?” “Never to return.” “And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.” “We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.” My friend tore it open, and we all three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way: “MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed. “Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to see my husband.“We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, “Very truly yours, “IRENE NORTON, n�e ADLER.” “What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when we had all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?” “From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion.” “On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire.” “I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.” “I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand. “Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly,” said Holmes. “You have but to name it.” “This photograph!” The King stared at him in amazement. “Irene's photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.” “I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers. And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable title of the woman.
P5. Mrs. Brice had twenty-five mice. 布莱斯太太有25只老鼠。 P6. She fed her mice the finest cheese. 她用最好的奶酪来喂养她的老鼠。 P7. She washed and dried them behind their ears, so they were always clean. 她经常给老鼠们洗澡并把他们的耳后擦干，所以老鼠们总是非常干净。 P8. Mrs. Brice loved to sing for them. When she played the piano, twenty-four little mice danced around her. 布莱斯太太很喜欢为老鼠们唱歌。 当她弹钢琴的时候，24只小老鼠围着她跳舞。 P9. One very small mouse danced on top of her hand. He was afraid to fall between the keys. 一只非常小的老鼠在她手背上跳舞，却又害怕掉进琴键间。 P10. When Mrs. Brice went to bed, twelve little mice slept on one side of her. Twelve little mice slept on the other side. One very small mouse slept on the clock, in case he wanted to know what time it was. 当布莱斯太太躺床上睡觉时， 0 00 12只小老鼠睡在她一侧，12只小老鼠睡在她另一侧， 非常小的那只小老鼠睡在时钟上，免得他不晓得时间。 P11.In the morning, Mrs. Brice did exercises. She stretched her arms and legs. She bent over and touched her toes with her fingers. 清晨，布莱斯太太做运动。 她伸展胳膊和腿，她弯腰，用手指触碰足尖。 P12.“One, two, three, four, five, six.... One, two, three, four, five, six ....” “1,2,3,4,5,6......1,2,3,4,5,6......” P13.Twenty-four little mice did exercises too. 24只小老鼠也跟着做运动。 P14. They streched, they bent, 他们做伸展运动，他们弯腰 P15. they touched their toes. One very small mouse kept on sleeping. 碰碰自己的足尖。 非常小的那只小老鼠还在睡觉。 P16. “It it time for our walk,” said Mrs. Brice. Twelve little mice walked in front of her. Twelve little mice walked in back. One very little small mouse sat on top of Mrs. Brice hat, so he could see where they were going. P17. He saw a cat. P18. Twelve little mice ran this way. Twelve little mice ran that way. P19. One very small mouse jumped down to the ground and ran this way and that. P20. He ran so many different ways, the cat got tired of chasing him and went back. to whatever he had been doing. P21. “What a clever little mouse you are,” said Mrs. Brice. “Now we can go to buy some food.” P22. Twenty-four little mice sat in a cart and enjoyed the ride. One very small mouse sat in front. P23. They went up one aisle. P24. They went down another. P25. Mrs. Brice bought food in cans, food in jars, cold food, hot food. P26. “Now we can go home,” said Mrs. Brice. Twenty-four little mice were glad. But one very small mouse kept on leading the way. He led them to the dairy counter. P28. Mrs. Brice bought a nice, big cheese. P29. Then she and her mice went home to eat it. P30. After they ate, Mrs. Brice sang and played the piano. P31. Twenty-four mice danced around her. P32. One very small mouse kept right on eating.
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