text:
Eighteen‐ninety‐ninepage: 11
IT was a warm night: the stars shone down through the thick soft air of the Northern Transvaal into the dark earth, where a little daub‐and‐wattle house of two rooms lay among the long, grassy slopes.
A light shone through the small window of the house, though it was past midnight. Presently the upper half of the door opened and then the lower, and the tall figure of a woman stepped out into the darkness. She closed the door behind her and walked towards the back of the house where a large round hut stood; beside it lay a pile of stumps and branches quite visible when once the eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. The woman stooped and broke off twigs till she had her apron full, and then returned slowly, and went into the house.
The room to which she returned was a small, bare room, with brown earthen walls and a mud floor; a naked deal table stood in the centre, and a few dark page: 12 wooden chairs, home‐made, with seats of undressed leather, stood round the walls. In the corner opposite the door was an open fireplace, and on the earthen hearth stood an iron three‐foot, on which stood a large black kettle, under which coals were smouldering, though the night was hot and close. Against the wall on the left side of the room hung a gun‐rack with three guns upon it, and below it a large hunting‐watch hung from two nails by its silver chain.
In the corner by the fireplace was a little table with a coffee‐pot upon it and a dish containing cups and saucers covered with water, and above it were a few shelves with crockery and a large Bible; but the dim light of the tallow candle which burnt on the table, with its wick of twisted rag, hardly made the corners visible. Beside the table sat a young woman, her head resting on her folded arms, the light of the tallow candle falling full on her head of pale flaxen hair, a little tumbled, and drawn behind into a large knot. The arms crossed on the table, from which the cotton sleeves had fallen back, were the full, rounded arms of one very young.
The older woman, who had just entered, walked to the fireplace, and kneeling down before it took from her apron the twigs and sticks she had gathered and heaped them under the kettle till a blaze sprang up which illumined the whole room. Then she rose up and sat down on a chair before the fire, but facing page: 13 the table, with her hands crossed on her brown apron.
She was a woman of fifty, spare and broad‐shouldered, with black hair, already slightly streaked with grey; from below high, arched eyebrows, and a high forehead, full dark eyes looked keenly, and a sharply cut aquiline nose gave strength to the face; but the mouth below was somewhat sensitive, and not over‐ full. She crossed and recrossed her knotted hands on her brown apron.
The woman at the table moaned and moved her head from side to side.
"What time is it?" she asked.
The older woman crossed the room to where the hunting‐watch hung on the wall.
It showed a quarter‐past one, she said, and went back to her seat before the fire, and sat watching the figure beside the table, the firelight bathing her strong upright form and sharp aquiline profile.
Nearly fifty years before her parents had left the Cape Colony, and had set out on the long trek north‐ward, and she, a young child, had been brought with them. She had no remembrance of the colonial home. Her first dim memories were of travelling in an ox‐wagon; of dark nights when a fire was lighted in the open air, and people sat round it on the ground, and some faces seemed to stand out more than others in her memory which she thought must be those of page: 14 her father and mother and of an old grandmother; she could remember lying awake in the back of the wagon while it was moving on, and the stars were shining down on her; and she had a vague memory of great wide plains with buck on them, which she thought must have been in the Free State. But the first thing which sprang out sharp and clear from the past was a day when she and another child, a little boy cousin of her own age, were playing among the bushes on the bank of a stream; she remembered how, suddenly, as they looked through the bushes, they saw black men leap out, and mount the ox‐wagon outspanned under the trees; she remembered how they shouted and dragged people along, and stabbed them; she remembered how the blood gushed, and how they, the two young children among the bushes, lay flat on their stomachs and did not move or breathe, with that strange self‐preserving instinct found in the young of animals or men who grow up in the open.
She remembered how black smoke came out at the back of the wagon and then red tongues of flame through the top; and even that some of the branches of the tree under which the wagon stood caught fire. She remembered later, when the black men had gone, and it was dark, that they were very hungry, and crept out to where the wagon had stood, and that they looked about on the ground for any scraps of food they might pick up, and that when they could not page: 15 find any they cried. She remembered nothing clearly after that till some men with large beards and large hats rode up on horseback: it might have been next day or the day after. She remembered how they jumped off their horses and took them up in their arms, and how they cried; but that they, the children, did not cry, they only asked for food. She remembered how one man took a bit of thick, cold roaster‐cake out of his pocket, and gave it to her, and how nice it tasted. And she remembered that the men took them up before them on their horses, and that one man tied her close to him with a large red handkerchief.
In the years that came she learnt to know that that which she remembered so clearly was the great and terrible day when, at Weenen, and in the country round, hundreds of women and children and youths and old men fell before the Zulus, and the assegais of Dingaan's braves drank blood.
She learnt that on that day all of her house and name, from the grandmother to the baby in arms, fell, and that she only and the boy cousin, who had hidden with her among the bushes, were left of all her kin in that Northern world. She learnt, too, that the man who tied her to him with the red hand‐kerchief took them back to his wagon, and that he and his wife adopted them, and brought them up among their own children.page: 16
She remembered, though less clearly than the day of the fire, how a few years later they trekked away from Natal, and went through great mountain ranges, ranges in and near which lay those places the world was to know later as Laings Nek, and Amajuba, and Ingogo; Elands‐laagte, Nicholson Nek, and Spion Kop. She remembered how at last after many wanderings they settled down near the Witwaters Rand¹, where game was plentiful and wild beasts were dangerous, but there were no natives, and they were far from the English rule.
There the two children grew up among the children of those who had adopted them, and were kindly treated by them as though they were their own; it yet was but natural that these two of the same name and blood should grow up with a peculiar tenderness for each other. And so it came to pass that when they were both eighteen years old they asked consent of the old people, who gave it gladly, that they should marry. For a time the young couple lived on in the house with the old, but after three years they gathered together all their few goods and in their wagon, with their guns and ammunition and a few sheep and cattle, they moved away northwards to found their own home.
For a time they travelled here and travelled there,
¹"Witwaters Rand"—"White water's ridge," now known as the Rand, where Johannesburg and the great mines are situated.
page: 17 but at last they settled on a spot where game was plentiful and the soil good, and there among the low undulating slopes, near the bank of a dry sloot, the young man built at last, with his own hands, a little house of two rooms.
On the long slope across the sloot before the house, he ploughed a piece of land and enclosed it, and he built kraals for his stock and so struck root in the land and wandered no more. Those were brave, glad, free days to the young couple. They lived largely on the game which the gun brought down, antelope and wildebeest that wandered even past the doors at night; and now and again a lion was killed: one no farther than the door of the round hut behind the house where the meat and the milk were stored, and two were killed at the kraals. Sometimes, too, traders came with their wagons and in exchange for skins and fine horns sold sugar and coffee and print and tan‐cord, and such things as the little household had need of. The lands yielded richly to them, in maize, and pumpkins, and sweet‐cane, and melons; and they had nothing to wish for. Then in time three little sons were born to them, who grew as strong and vigorous in the free life of the open veld as the young lions in the long grass and scrub near the river four miles away. Those were joyous, free years for the man and woman, in which disease, and carking care, and anxiety played no part.page: 18
Then came a day when their eldest son was ten years old, and the father went out a‐hunting with his Kaffir servants: in the evening they brought him home with a wound eight inches long in his side where a lioness had torn him; they brought back her skin also, as he had shot her at last in the hand‐to‐throat struggle. He lingered for three days and then died. His wife buried him on the low slope to the left of the house; she and her Kaffir servants alone made the grave and put him in it, for there were no white men near. Then she and her sons lived on there; a new root driven deep into the soil and binding them to it through the grave on the hill‐side. She hung her husband's large hunting‐watch up on the wall, and put three of his guns over it on the rack, and the gun he had in his hand when he met his death she took down and polished up every day; but one gun she always kept loaded at the head of her bed in the inner room. She counted the stock every night and saw that the Kaffirs ploughed the lands, and she saw to the planting and watering of them herself.
Often as the years passed men of the country‐side, and even from far off, heard of the young handsome widow who lived alone with her children and saw to her own stock and lands; and they came a‐courting. But many of them were afraid to say anything when once they had come, and those who had spoken to her, when once she had answered them, never came again. page: 19 About this time too the country‐side began to fill in; and people came and settled as near as eight and ten miles away; and as people increased the game began to vanish, and with the game the lions, so that the one her husband killed was almost the last ever seen there. But there was still game enough for food, and when her eldest son was twelve years old, and she gave him his father's smallest gun to go out hunting with, he returned home almost every day with meat enough for the household tied behind his saddle. And as time passed she came also to be known through the country‐side as a "wise woman." People came to her to ask advice about their illnesses, or to ask her to dress old wounds that would not heal; and when they questioned her whether she thought the rains would be early, or the game plentiful that year, she was nearly always right. So they called her a "wise woman" because neither she nor they knew any word in that up‐country speech of theirs for the thing called "genius." So all things went well till the eldest son was eighteen, and the dark beard was beginning to sprout on his face, and his mother began to think that soon there might be a daughter in the house; for on Saturday evenings, when his work was done, he put on his best clothes and rode off to the next farm eight miles away, where was a young daughter. His mother always saw that he had a freshly ironed shirt waiting for him on his page: 20 bed, when he came home from the kraals on Saturday nights, and she made plans as to how they would build on two rooms for the new daughter. At this time he was training young horses to have them ready to sell when the traders came round: he was a fine rider and it was always his work. One afternoon he mounted a young horse before the door and it bucked and threw him. He had often fallen before, but this time his neck was broken. He lay dead with his head two feet from his mother's doorstep. They took up his tall, strong body and the next day the neighbours came from the next farm and they buried him beside his father, on the hill‐side, and another root was struck into the soil. Then the three who were left in the little farm‐house lived and worked on as before, for a year and more.
Then a small native war broke out, and the young burghers of the district were called out to help. The second son was very young, but he was the best shot in the district, so he went away with the others. Three months after the men came back, but among the few who did not return was her son. On a hot sunny afternoon, walking through a mealie field which they thought was deserted and where the dried yellow stalks stood thick, an assegai thrown from an unseen hand found him, and he fell there. His comrades took him and buried him under a large thorn tree, and scraped the earth smooth over him, that his grave page: 21 might not be found by others. So he was not laid on the rise to the left of the house with his kindred, but his mother's heart went often to that thorn tree in the far north. And now again there were only two in the little mud‐house; as there had been years before when the young man and wife first settled there. She and her young lad were always together night and day, and did an that they aid together, as though they were mother and daughter. He was a fair lad, tall and gentle as his father had been before him, not huge and dark as his two elder brothers; but he seemed to ripen towards manhood early. When he was only sixteen the thick white down was already gathering heavy on his upper lip; his mother watched him narrowly, and had many thoughts in her heart. One evening as they sat twisting wicks for the candles together, she said to him, "You will be eighteen on your next birthday, my son, that was your father's age when he married me." He said, "Yes," and they spoke no more then. But later in the evening when they sat before the door she said to him: "We are very lonely here. I often long to hear the feet of a little child about the house, and to see one with your father's blood in it play before the door as you and your brothers played. Have you ever thought that you are the last of your father's name and blood left here in the north; that if you died there would be none left?" He said he had thought of it. Then page: 22 she told him she thought it would be well if he went away, to the part of the country where the people lived who had brought her up: several of the sons and daughters who had grown up with her had now grown up children. He might go down and from among them seek out a young girl whom he liked and who liked him; and if he found her, bring her back as a wife. The lad thought very well of his mother's plan. And when three months were passed, and the ploughing season was over, he rode away one day, on the best blackhorse they had, his Kaffir boy riding behind him on another, and his mother stood at the gable watching them ride away. For three months she heard nothing of him, for trains were not in those days, and letters came rarely and by chance, and neither he nor she could read or write. One afternoon she stood at the gable end as she always stood when her work was done, looking out along the road that came over the rise, and she saw a large tent‐wagon coming along it, and her son walking beside it. She walked to meet it. When she had greeted her son and climbed into the wagon she found there a girl of fifteen with pale flaxen hair and large blue eyes whom he had brought home as his wife. Her father had given her the wagon and oxen as her wedding portion. The older woman's heart wrapt itself about the girl as though she had been the daughter she had dreamed to bear of her own body, and had never borne.page: 23
The three lived joyfully at the little house as though they were one person. The young wife had been accustomed to live in a larger house, and down south, where they had things they had not here. She had been to school, and learned to read and write, and she could even talk a little English; but she longed for none of the things which she had had; the little brown house was home enough for her.
After a year a child came, but, whether it were that the mother was too young, it only opened its eyes for an hour on the world and closed them again. The young mother wept bitterly, but her husband folded his arms about her, and the mother comforted both. "You are young, my children, but we shall yet hear the sound of children's voices in the house," she said; and after a little while the young mother was well again and things went on peacefully as before in the little home.
But in the land things were not going on peacefully. That was the time that the flag to escape from which the people had left their old homes in the Colony, and had again left Natal when it followed them there, and had chosen to face the spear of the savage, and the conflict with wild beasts, and death by hunger and thirst in the wilderness rather than live under, had by force and fraud unfurled itself over them again. For the moment a great sullen silence brooded over the land. The people, slow of thought, slow of page: 24 speech, determined in action, and unforgetting; sat still and waited. It was like the silence that rests over the land before an up‐country thunderstorm breaks.
Then words came, "They have not even given us the free government they promised"—then acts—the people rose. Even in that remote country‐side the men began to mount their horses, and with their guns ride away to help. In the little mud‐house the young wife wept much when he said that he too was going. But when his mother helped him pack his saddle‐bags she helped too; and on the day when the men from the next farm went, he rode away also with his gun by his side.
No direct news of the one they had sent away came to the waiting women at the farm‐house; then came fleet reports of the victories of Ingogo and Amajuba. Then came an afternoon after he had been gone two months. They had both been to the gable end to look out at the road, as they did continually amid their work, and they had just come in to drink their afternoon coffee when the Kaffir maid ran in to say she saw someone coming along the road who looked like her master. The women ran out. It was the white horse on which he had ridden away, but they almost doubted if it were he. He rode bending on his saddle, with his chin on his breast and his arm hanging at his side. At first they thought he had page: 25 been wounded, but when they had helped him from his horse and brought him into the house they found it was only a deadly fever which was upon him. He had crept home to them by small stages. Hardly had he any spirit left to tell them of Ingogo, Laings Nek, and Amajuba. For fourteen days he grew worse and on the fifteenth day he died. And the two women buried him where the rest of his kin lay on the hill‐side.
And so it came to pass that on that warm star‐light night the two women were alone in the little mud‐house with the stillness of the veld about them; even their Kaffir servants asleep in their huts beyond the kraals; and the very sheep lying silent in the starlight. They two were alone in the little house, but they knew that before morning they would not be alone, they were awaiting the coming of the dead man's child.
The young woman with her head on the table groaned. "If only my husband were here still," she wailed. The old woman rose and stood beside her, passing her hard, work‐worn hand gently over her shoulder as if she were a little child. At last she induced her to go and lie down in the inner room. When she had grown quieter and seemed to have fallen into a light sleep the old woman came to the front room again. It was almost two o'clock and the fire had burned low under the large kettle. She scraped the page: 26 coals together and went out of the front door to fetch more wood, and closed the door behind her. The night air struck cool and fresh upon her face after the close air of the house, the stars seemed to be growing lighter as the night advanced, they shot down their light as from a million polished steel points. She walked to the back of the house where, beyond the round hut that served as a store‐room, the wood‐pile lay. She bent down gathering sticks and chips till her apron was full, then slowly she raised herself and stood still. She looked upwards. It was a wonderful night. The white band of the Milky Way crossed the sky overhead, and from every side stars threw down their light, sharp as barbed spears, from the velvety blue‐black of the sky. The woman raised her hand to her forehead as if pushing the hair farther off it, and stood motionless, looking up. After a long time she dropped her hand and began walking slowly towards the house. Yet once or twice on the way she paused and stood looking up. When she went into the house the woman in the inner room was again moving and moaning. She laid the sticks down before the fire and went into the next room. She bent down over the bed where the younger woman lay, and put her hand upon her. "My daughter," she said slowly, "be comforted. A wonderful thing has happened to me. As I stood out in the starlight it was as though a voice came down page: 27 to me and spoke. The child which will be born of you to‐night will be a man‐child and he will live to do great things for his land and for his people."
Before morning there was the sound of a little wail in the mud‐house: and the child who was to do great things for his land and for his people was born.
Six years passed; and all was as it had been at the little house among the slopes. Only a new piece of land had been ploughed up and added to the land before the house, so that the ploughed land now almost reached to the ridge.
The young mother had grown stouter, and lost her pink and white; she had become a working‐woman, but she still had the large knot of flaxen hair behind her head and the large wondering eyes. She had many suitors in those six years, but she sent them all away. She said the old woman looked after the farm as well as any man might, and her son would be grown up by and by. The grandmother's hair was a little more streaked with grey, but it was as thick as ever, and her shoulders as upright; only some of her front teeth had fallen out, which made her lips close more softly.
The great change was that wherever the women went there was the flaxen‐haired child to walk beside them holding on to their skirts or clasping their hands.page: 28
The neighbours said they were ruining the child: they let his hair grow long, like a girl's, because it curled; and they never let him wear velschoens like other children but always shop boots; and his mother sat up at night to iron his pinafores as if the next day were always a Sunday.
But the women cared nothing for what was said; to them he was not as any other child. He asked them strange questions they could not answer, and he never troubled them by wishing to go and play with the little Kaffirs as other children trouble. When neighbours came over and brought their children with them he ran away and hid in the sloot to play by himself till they were gone. No, he was not like other children!
When the women went to lie down on hot days after dinner sometimes, he would say that he did not want to sleep; but he would not run about and make a noise like other children—he would go and sit outside in the shade of the house, on the front door‐step, quite still, with his little hands resting on his knees, and stare far away at the ploughed lands on the slope, or the shadows nearer; the women would open the bedroom window, and peep out to look at him as he sat there.
The child loved his mother and followed her about to the milk house, and to the kraals; but he loved his grandmother best.page: 29
She told him stories.
When she went to the lands to see how the Kaffirs were ploughing he would run at her side holding her dress; when they had gone a short way he would tug gently at it and say, "Grandmother, tell me things!"
And long before day broke, when it was yet quite dark, he would often creep from the bed where he slept with his mother into his grandmother's bed in the corner; he would put his arms round her neck and stroke her face till she woke, and then whisper softly, "Tell me stories!" and she would tell them to him in a low voice not to wake the mother, till the cock crowed and it was time to get up and light the candle and the fire.
But what he liked best of all were the hot, still summer nights, when the women put their chairs before the door because it was too warm to go to sleep; and he would sit on the stool at his grandmother's feet and lean his head against her knees, and she would tell him on and on of the things he liked to hear; and he would watch the stars as they slowly set along the ridge, or the moonlight, casting bright‐edged shadows from the gable as she talked. Often after the mother had got sleepy and gone in to bed the two sat there together.
The stories she told him were always true stories of the things she had seen or of things she had heard. Sometimes they were stories of her own childhood: page: 30 of the day when she and his grandfather hid among the bushes, and saw the wagon burnt; sometimes they were of the long trek from Natal to the Transvaal; sometimes of the things which happened to her and his grandfather when first they came to that spot among the ridges, of how there was no house there nor lands, only two bare grassy slopes when they outspanned their wagon there the first night; she told of a lion she once found when she opened the door in the morning, sitting, with paws crossed, upon the threshold, and how the grandfather jumped out of bed and reopened the door two inches, and shot it through the opening; the skin was kept in the round storehouse still, very old and mangy.
Sometimes she told him of the two uncles who were dead, and of his own father, and of all they had been and done. But sometimes she told him of things much farther off: of the old Colony where she had been born, but which she could not remember, and of the things which happened there in the old days. She told him of how the British had taken the Cape over, and of how the English had hanged their men at the "Slachters Nek" for resisting the English Government, and of how the friends and relations had been made to stand round to see them hanged whether they would or no, and of how the scaffold broke down as they were being hanged, and the people looking on cried aloud, "It is the finger of God! They are page: 31 saved!" but how the British hanged them up again. She told him of the great trek in which her parents had taken part to escape from under the British flag; of the great battles with Moselikatse; and of the murder of Retief and his men by Dingaan, and of Dingaan's Day. She told him how the British Government followed them into Natal, and of how they trekked north and east to escape from it again; and she told him of the later things, of the fight at Laings Nek, and Ingogo, and Amajuba, where his father had been. Always she told the same story in exactly the same words over and over again, till the child knew them all by heart, and would ask for this and then that.
The story he loved best, and asked for more often than all the others, made his grandmother wonder, because it did not seem to her the story a child would best like; it was not a story of lion‐hunting, or wars, or adventures. Continually when she asked what she should tell him, he said, "About the mountains!"
It was the story of how the Boer women in Natal when the English Commissioner came to annex their country, collected to meet him and pointing toward the Drakens Berg Mountains said, "We go across those mountains to freedom or to death!"
More than once, when she was telling him the story, she saw him stretch out his little arm and raise his hand, as though he were speaking.
One evening as he and his mother were coming page: 32 home from the milking kraals, and it was getting dark, and he was very tired, having romped about shouting among the young calves and kids all the evening, he held her hand tightly.
"Mother," he said suddenly, "when I am grown up, I am going to Natal."
"Why, my child!" she asked him; "there are none of our family living there now."
He waited a little, then said, very slowly, "I am going to go and try to get our land back!"
His mother started; if there were one thing she was more firmly resolved on in her own mind than any other it was that he should never go to the wars. She began to talk quickly of the old white cow who had kicked the pail over as she was milked, and when she got to the house she did not even mention to the grandmother what had happened; it seemed better to forget.
One night in the rainy season when it was damp and chilly they sat round the large fireplace in the front room.
Outside the rain was pouring in torrents and you could hear the water rushing in the great dry sloot before the door. His grandmother, to amuse him, had sprung some dried menlies in the great black pot and sprinkled them with sugar, and now he sat on the stoof at her feet with a large lump of the sticky sweetmeat in his hand, watching the fire. His grandmother page: 33 from above him was watching it also, and his mother in her elbow‐chair on the other side of the fire had her eyes half closed and was nodding already with the warmth of the room and her long day's work. The child sat so quiet, the hand with the lump of sweetmeat resting on his knee, that his grandmother thought he had gone to sleep too. Suddenly he said without looking up, "Grandmother?"
He waited rather a long time, then said slowly, "Grandmother, did God make the English too?"
She also waited for a while, then she said, "Yes, my child; He made all things."
They were silent again, and there was no sound but of the rain falling and the fire cracking and the sloot rushing outside. Then he threw his head backwards on to his grandmother's knee and looking up into her face, said, "But, grandmother, why did He make them?"
Then she too was silent for a long time. "My child," at last she said, "we cannot judge the ways of the Almighty. He does that which seems good in His own eyes."
The child sat up and looked back at the fire. Slowly he tapped his knee with the lump of sweetmeat once or twice; then he began to munch it; and soon the mother started wide awake and said it was time for all to go to bed.page: 34
The next morning his grandmother sat on the front doorstep cutting beans in an iron basin; he sat beside her on the step pretending to cut too, with a short, broken knife. Presently he left off and rested his hands on his knees, looking away at the hedge beyond, with his small forehead knit tight between the eyes.
"Grandmother," he said suddenly, in a small, almost shrill voice, "do the English want all the lands of all the people?"
The handle of his grandmother's knife as she cut clinked against the iron side of the basin. "All they can get," she said.
After a while he made a little movement almost like a sigh, and took up his little knife again and went on cutting.
Some time after that, when a whe an trader came by, his grandmother bought him a spelling‐book and a slate and pencils, and his mother began to teach him to read and write. When she had taught him for a year he knew all she did. Sometimes when she was setting him a copy and left a letter out in a word, he would quietly take the pencil when she set it down and put the letter in, not with any idea of correcting her, but simply because it must be there.
Often at night when the child had gone to bed early, tired out with his long day's play, and the two women were left in the front room with the tallow candle page: 35 burning on the table between them, then they talked of his future.
Ever since he had been born everything they had earned had been put away in the wagon chest under the grandmother's bed. When the traders with their wagons came round the women bought nothing except a few groceries and clothes for the child; even before they bought a yard of cotton print for a new apron they talked long and solemnly as to whether the old one might not be made to do by repatching; and they mixed much more dry pumpkin and corn with their coffee than before he was born. It was to earn more money that the large new piece of land had been added to the lands before the house.
They were going to have him educated. First he was to be taught all they could at home, then to be sent away to a great school in the old Colony, and then he was to go over the sea to Europe and come back an advocate or a doctor or a parson. The grandmother had made a long journey to the next town, to find out from the minister just how much it would cost to do it all.
In the evenings when they sat talking it over the mother generally inclined to his becoming a parson. She never told the grandmother why, but the real reason was because parsons do not go to the wars. The grandmother generally favoured his becoming an advocate, because he might become a judge. Some‐ page: 36 times they sat discussing these matters till the candle almost burnt out.
"Perhaps, one day," the mother would at last say, "he may yet become President!"
Then the grandmother would slowly refold her hands across her apron and say softly, "Who knows?—who knows?"
Often they would get the box out from under the bed (looking carefully across to the corner to see he was fast asleep) and would count out all the money, though each knew to a farthing how much was there; then they would make it into little heaps, so much for this, so much for that, and then they would count on their fingers how many good seasons it would take to make the rest, and how old he would be.
When he was eight and had learnt all his mother could teach him, they sent him to school every day on an adjoining farm six miles off, where the people had a schoolmaster. Every day he rode over on the great white horse his father went to the wars with; his mother was afraid to let him ride alone at first, but his grandmother said he must learn to do everything alone. At four o'clock when he came back one or other of the women was always looking out to see the little figure on the tall horse coming over the ridge.
When he was eleven they gave him his father's page: 37 smallest gun; and one day not long after he came back with his first small buck. His mother had the skin dressed and bound with red, and she laid it as a mat under the table, and even the horns she did not throw away, and saved them in the round house, because it was his first.
When he was fourteen the schoolmaster said he could teach him no more; that he ought to go to some larger school where they taught Latin and other difficult things; they had not yet money enough and he was not quite old enough to go to the old Colony, so they sent him first to the High‐veld, where his mother's relations lived and where there were good schools, where they taught the difficult things; he could live with his mother's relations and come back once a year for the holidays.
They were great times when he came.
His mother made him koekies¹ and sasarties² and nice things every day; and he used to sit on the stoof at her feet and let her play with his hair like when he was quite small. With his grandmother he talked. He tried to explain to her all he was learning, and he read the English newspapers to her (she could neither read in English nor Dutch), translating them. Most of all she liked his Atlas. They would sometimes sit over it for half an hour in the evening tracing
²Sasarties: meat prepared in a certain way.page: 38 the different lands and talking of them. On the warm nights he used still to sit outside on the stool at her feet with his head against her knee, and they used to discuss things that were happening in other lands and in South Africa; and sometimes they sat there quite still together.
It was now he who had the most stories to tell; he had seen Krugersdorp, and Johannesburg, and Pretoria; he knew the world; he was at Krugersdorp when Dr. Jameson made his raid. Sometimes he sat for an hour, telling her of things, and she sat quietly listening.
When he was seventeen, nearly eighteen, there was money enough in the box to pay for his going to the Colony and then to Europe; and he came home to spend a few months with them before he went.
He was very handsome now; not tall, and very slight, but with fair hair that curled close to his head, and white hands like a town's man. All the girls in the country‐side were in love with him. They all wished he would come and see them. But he seldom rode from home except to go to the next farm where he had been at school. There lived little Aletta, who was the daughter of the woman his uncle had loved before he went to the Kaffir war and got killed. She was only fifteen years old, but they had always been great friends. She netted him a purse of green silk. He said he would take it with him to Europe, and page: 39 would show it her when he came back and was an advocate; and he gave her a book with her name written in it, which she was to show to him.
These were the days when the land was full of talk; it was said the English were landing troops in South Africa, and wanted to have war. Often the neighbours from the nearest farms would come to talk about it (there were more farms now, the country was filling in, and the nearest railway station was only a day's journey off), and they discussed matters. Some said they thought there would be war; others again laughed, and said it would be only Jameson and his white flag again. But the grandmother shook her head, and if they asked her, "Why," she said, "it will not be the war of a week, nor of a month; if it comes it will be the war of years," but she would say nothing more.
Yet sometimes when she and her grandson were walking along together in the lands she would talk.
Once she said: "It is as if a great heavy cloud hung just above my head, as though I wished to press it back with my hands and could not. It will be a great war—a great war. Perhaps the English Government will take the land for a time, but they will not keep it. The gold they have fought for will divide them, till they slay one another over it."
Another day she said: "This land will be a great page: 40 land one day with one people from the sea to the north—but we shall not live to see it."
He said to her: "But how can that be when we are all of different races?"
She said: "The land will make us one. Were not our fathers of more than one race?"
Another day, when she and he were sitting by the table after dinner, she pointed to a sheet of exercise paper, on which he had been working out a problem and which was covered with algebraical symbols, and said, "In fifteen years' time the Government of England will not have one piece of land in all South Africa as large as that sheet of paper."
One night when the milking had been late and she and he were walking down together from the kraals in the starlight she said to him: "If this war comes let no man go to it lightly, thinking he will surely return home, nor let him go expecting victory on the next day. It will come at last, but not at first." "Sometimes," she said, "I wake at night and it is as though the whole house were filled with smoke—and I have to get up and go outside to breathe. It is as though I saw my whole land blackened and desolate. But when I look up it is as though a voice cried out to me, 'Have no fear!'"
They were getting his things ready for him to go away after Christmas. His mother was making him shirts and his grandmother was having a kaross of page: 41 jackals' skins made that he might take it with him to Europe where it was so cold. But his mother noticed that whenever the grandmother was in the room with him and he was not looking at her, her eyes were always curiously fixed on him as though they were questioning something. The hair was growing white and a little thin over her temples now; but her eyes were as bright as ever, and she could do a day's work with any man.
One day when the youth was at the kraals helping the Kaffir boys to mend a wall, and the mother was kneading bread in the front room, and the grandmother washing up the breakfast things, the son of the Field‐Cornet came riding over from his father's farm, which was about twelve miles off. He stopped at the kraal and Jan and he stood talking for some time, then they walked down to the farm‐house, the Kaffir boy leading the horse behind them. Jan stopped at the round store, but the Field‐Cornet's son went to the front door. The grandmother asked him in, and handed him some coffee, and the mother, her hands still in the dough, asked him how‐things were going at his father's farm, and if his mother's young turkeys had come out well, and she asked if he had met Jan at the kraals. He answered the questions slowly, and sipped his coffee. Then he put the cup down on the table; and said suddenly in the same measured voice, staring at the wall in page: 42 front of him, that war had broken out, and his father had sent him round to call out all fighting burghers.
The mother took her hands out of the dough and stood upright beside the trough as though paralysed. Then she cried in a high, hard voice, unlike her own, "Yes, but Jan cannot go! He is hardly eighteen! He's got to go and be educated in other lands! You can't take the only son of a widow!"
"Aunt" said the young man slowly, "no one will make him go."
The grandmother stood resting the knuckles of both hands on the table, her eyes fixed on the young man. "He shall decide himself," she said.
The mother wiped her hands from the dough and rushed past them and out at the door; the grandmother followed slowly.
They found him in the shade at the back of the house, sitting on a stump; he was cleaning the belt of his new Mauser which lay across his knees.
"Jan," his mother cried, grasping his shoulder, "you are not going away! You can't go! You must stay. You can go by Delagoa Bay if there is fighting on the other side! There is plenty of money!"
He looked softly up into her face with his blue eyes. "We have all to be at the Field Cornet's at nine o'clock to‐morrow morning," he said. She wept aloud and argued.
His grandmother turned slowly without speaking, page: 43 and went back into the house. When she had given the Field Cornet's son another cup of coffee, and shaken hands with him, she went into the bedroom and opened the box in which her grandson's clothes were kept, to see which things he should take with him. After a time the mother came back too. He had kissed her and talked to her until she too had at last said it was right he should go.
All day they were busy. His mother baked him biscuits to take in his bag, and his grandmother made a belt of two strips of leather; she sewed them together herself and put a few sovereigns between the stitchings. She said some of his comrades might need the money if he did not.
The next morning early he was ready. There were two saddle‐bags tied to his saddle and before it was strapped the kaross his grandmother had made; she said it would be useful when he had to sleep on damp ground. When he had greeted them, he rode away towards the rise: and the women stood at the gable of the house to watch him.
When he had gone a little way he turned in his saddle, and they could see he was smiling; he took off his hat and waved it in the air; the early morning sunshine made his hair as yellow as the tassels that hang from the head of ripening mealies. His mother covered her face with the sides of her kappie and wept aloud; but the grandmother shaded her eyes with both her page: 44 hands and stood watching him till the figure passed out of sight over the ridge; and when it was gone and the mother returned to the house crying, she still stood watching the line against the sky.
The two women were very quiet during the next days, they worked hard, and seldom spoke. After eight days there came a long letter from him (there was now a post once a week from the station to the Field Cornet's). He said he was well and in very good spirits. He had been to Krugersdorp, and Johannesburg, and Pretoria; all the family living there were well and sent greetings. He had joined a corps that was leaving for the front the next day. He sent also a long message to Aletta, asking them to tell her he was sorry to go away without saying good‐bye; and he told his mother how good the biscuits and biltong were she had put into his saddle‐bag; and he sent her a piece of "vier‐kleur" ribbon in the letter, to wear on her breast.
The women talked a great deal for a day or two after this letter came. Eight days after there was a short note from him, written in pencil in the train on his way to the front. He said all was going well, and if he did not write soon they were not to be anxious; he would write as often as he could.
For some days the women discussed that note too.
Then came two weeks without a letter, the two page: 45 women became very silent. Every day they sent the Kaffir boy over to the Field Cornet's, even on the days when there was no post, to hear if there was any news.
Many reports were flying about the country‐side. Some said that an English armoured train had been taken on the western border; that there had been fighting at Albertina, and in Natal. But nothing seemed quite certain.
Another week passed.... Then the two women became very quiet.
The grandmother, when she saw her daughter‐in‐law left the food untouched on her plate, said there was no need to be anxious; men at the front could not always find paper and pencils to write with and might be far from any post office. Yet night after night she herself would rise from her bed saying she felt the house close, and go and walk up and down outside.
Then one day suddenly all their servants left them except one Kaffir and his wife, whom they had had for years, and the servants from the farms about went also, which was a sign there had been news of much fighting; for the Kaffirs hear things long before the white man knows them.
Three days after, as the women were clearing off the breakfast things, the youngest son of the Field‐Cornet, who was only fifteen and had not gone to the page: 46 war with the others, rode up. He hitched his horse to the post, and came towards the door. The mother stepped forward to meet him and shook hands in the doorway.
"I suppose you have come for the carrot seed I promised your mother? I was not able to send it, as our servants ran away," she said, as she shook his hand. "There isn't a letter from Jan, is there?" The lad said no, there was no letter from him, and shook hands with the grandmother. He stood by the table instead of sitting down.
The mother turned to the fireplace to get coals to put under the coffee to rewarm it; but the grandmother stood leaning forward with her eyes fixed on him from across the table. He felt uneasily in his breast pocket.
"Is there no news?" the mother said without looking round, as she bent over the fire.
"Yes, there is news, Aunt."
She rose quickly and turned towards him, putting down the brazier on the table. He took a letter out of his breast pocket. "Aunt, my father said I must bring this to you. It came inside one to him and they asked him to send one of us over with it."
The mother took the letter; she held it, examining the address.
"It looks to me like the writing of Sister Annie's Paul," she said. "Perhaps there is news of Jan in page: 47 it"—she turned to them with a half‐nervous smile—"they were always such friends."
"All is as God wills, Aunt," the young man said, looking down fixedly at the top of his riding‐whip.
But the grandmother leaned forward motionless, watching her daughter‐in‐law as she opened the letter.
She began to read to herself, her lips moving slowly as she deciphered it word by word.
Then a piercing cry rang through the roof of the little mud‐farm‐house.
"He is dead! My boy is dead!"
She flung the letter on the table and ran out at the front door.
Far out across the quiet ploughed lands and over the veld to where the kraals lay the cry rang. The Kaffir woman who sat outside her hut beyond the kraals nursing her baby heard it and came down with her child across her hip to see what was the matter. At the side of the round house she stood motionless and open‐mouthed, watching the woman, who paced up and down behind the house with her apron thrown over her head and her hands folded above it, crying aloud.
In the front room the grandmother, who had not spoken since he came, took up the letter and put it in the lad's hands. "Read," she whispered.
And slowly the lad spelled it out.page: 48
'I hope this letter finds you well. The Commandant has asked me to write it.
'We had a great fight four days ago, and Jan is dead. The Commandant says I must tell you how it happened. Aunt, there were five of us first in a position on that koppie, but two got killed, and then there were only three of us—Jan, and I, and Uncle Peter's Frikkie. Aunt, the khakies¹ were coming on all round just like locusts, and the bullets were coming just like hail. It was bare on that side of the koppie where we were, but we had plenty of cartridges. We three took up a position where there were some small stones and we fought, Aunt; we had to. One bullet took off the top of my ear, and Jan got two bullets, one through the flesh in the left leg and one through his arm, but he could still fire his gun. Then we three meant to go to the top of the koppie, but a bullet took Jan right through his chest. We knew he couldn't go any farther. The khakies were right at the foot of the koppie just coming up. He told us to lay him down, Aunt. We said we would stay by him, but he said we must go. I put my jacket under his head and Frikkie put his over his feet. We threw his gun far away from him that they might see how it was with him. He said he hadn't much pain,
page: 49 Aunt. He was full of blood from his arm, but there wasn't much from his chest, only a little out of the corners of his mouth. He said we must make haste or the khakies would catch us; he said he wasn't afraid to be left there.
'Aunt, when we got to the top, it was all full of khakies like the sea on the other side, all among the koppies and on our koppie too. We were surrounded, Aunt; the last I saw of Frikkie he was sitting on a stone with the blood running down his face, but he got under a rock and hid there; some of our men found him next morning and brought him to camp. Aunt, there was a khakie's horse standing just below where I was, with no one on it. I jumped on and rode. The bullets went this way and the bullets went that, but I rode! Aunt, the khakies were sometimes as near me as that tent‐pole, only the Grace of God saved me. It was dark in the night when I got back to where our people were, because I had to go round all the koppies to get away from the khakies.
'Aunt, the next day we went to look for him. We found him where we left him; but he was turned over on to his face; they had taken all his things, his belt and his watch, and the pugaree from his hat, even his boots. The little green silk purse he used to carry we found on the ground by him, but nothing in it. I will send it back to you whenever I get an opportunity.page: 50
'Aunt, when we turned him over on his back there were four bayonet stabs in his body. The doctor says it was only the first three while he was alive; the last one was through his heart and killed him at once.
'We gave him Christian burial, Aunt; we took him to the camp.
'The Commandant was there, and all of the family who are with the Commando were there, and they all said they hoped God would comfort you.'
The old woman leaned forward and grasped the boy's arm. "Read it over again," she said, "from where they found him." He turned back and re‐read slowly. She gazed at the page as though she were reading also. Then, suddenly, she slipped out at the front door.
At the back of the house she found her daughter‐in‐law still walking up and down, and the Kaffir woman with a red handkerchief bound round her head and the child sitting across her hip, sucking from her long, pendulous breast, looking on.
The old woman walked up to her daughter‐in‐law and grasped her firmly by the arm.
"He's dead! You know, my boy's dead!" she cried, drawing the apron down with her right hand and disclosing her swollen and bleared face. "Oh, his beautiful hair—Oh, his beautiful hair!"page: 51
The old woman held her arm tighter with both hands; the younger opened her half‐closed eyes, and looked into the keen, clear eyes fixed on hers, and stood arrested.
The old woman drew her face closer to hers. "You ... do ... not ... know ... what ... has ... happened!" she spoke slowly, her tongue striking her front gum, the jaw moving stiffly, as though partly paralysed. She loosed her left hand and held up the curved work‐worn fingers before her daughter‐in‐law's face. "Was it not told me ... the night he was born ... here ... at this spot ... that he would do great things ... great things ... for his land and his people?" She bent forward till her lips almost touched the other's. "Three ... bullet ... wounds ... and four ... bayonet ... stabs!" She raised her left hand high in the air. "Three ... bullet ... wounds ... and four ... bayonet ... stabs! ... Is it given to many to die so for their land and their people!"
The younger woman gazed into her eyes, her own growing larger and larger. She let the old woman lead her by the arm in silence into the house.
The Field‐Cornet's son was gone, feeling there was nothing more to be done; and the Kaffir woman went back with her baby to her hut beyond the kraals. All day the house was very silent. The Kaffir woman wondered that no smoke rose from the farm‐house page: 52 chimney, and that she was not called to churn, or wash the pots. At three o'clock she went down to the house. As she passed the grated window of the round out‐house she saw the buckets of milk still standing unsifted¹ on the floor as they had been set down at breakfast time, and under the great soap‐pot beside the wood pile the fire had died out. She went round to the front of the house and saw the door and window shutters still closed, as though her mistresses were still sleeping. So she rebuilt the fire under the soap‐pot and went back to her hut.
It was four o'clock when the grandmother came out from the dark inner room where she and her daughter‐in‐law had been lying down; she opened the top of the front door, and lit the fire with twigs, and set the large black kettle over it. When it boiled she made coffee, and poured out two cups and set them on the table with a plate of biscuits, and then called her daughter‐in‐law from the inner room.
The two women sat down one on each side of the table, with their coffee cups before them, and the biscuits between them, but for a time they said nothing, but sat silent, looking out through the open door at the shadow of the house and the afternoon sunshine beyond it. At last the older woman motioned that the younger should drink her coffee. She took a little, and then folding her arms on the
page: 53 table rested her head on them, and sat motionless as if asleep.
The older woman broke up a biscuit into her own cup, and stirred it round and round; and then, without tasting, sat gazing out into the afternoon's sunshine till it grew cold beside her.
It was five, and the heat was quickly dying; the glorious golden colouring of the later afternoon was creeping over everything when she rose from her chair. She moved to the door and took from behind it two large white calico bags hanging there, and from nails on the wall she took down two large brown cotton kappies. She walked round the table and laid her hand gently on her daughter‐in‐law's arm. The younger woman raised her head slowly and looked up into her mother‐in‐law's face; and then, suddenly, she knew that her mother‐in‐law was an old, old, woman. The little shrivelled face that looked down at her was hardly larger than a child's, the eyelids were half closed and the lips worked at the corners and the bones cut out through the skin in the temples.
"I am going out to sow—the ground will be getting too dry to‐morrow; will you come with me?" she said gently.
The younger woman made a movement with her hand, as though she said "What is the use?" and redropped her hand on the table.page: 54
"It may go on for long, our burghers must have food," the old woman said gently.
The younger woman looked into her face, then she rose slowly and taking one of the brown kappies from her hand, put it on, and hung one of the bags over her left arm; the old woman did the same and together they passed out of the door. As the older woman stepped down the younger caught her and saved her from falling.
"Take my arm, mother," she said.
But the old woman drew her shoulders up. "I only stumbled a little!" she said quickly. "That step has been always too high"; but before she reached the plank over the sloot the shoulders had drooped again, and the neck fallen forward.
The mould in the lands was black and soft; it lay in long ridges, as it had been ploughed up a week before, but the last night's rain had softened it and made it moist and ready for putting in the seed.
The bags which the women carried on their arms were full of the seed of pumpkins and mealies. They began to walk up the lands, keeping parallel with the low hedge of dried bushes that ran up along the side of the sloot almost up to the top of the ridge. At every few paces they stopped and bent down to press into the earth, now one and then the other kind of seed from their bags. Slowly they walked up and down till they reached the top of the land almost on page: 55 the horizon line; and then they turned, and walked down, sowing as they went. When they had reached the bottom of the land before the farm‐house it was almost sunset, and their bags were nearly empty; but they turned to go up once more. The light of the setting sun cast long, gaunt shadows from their figures across the ploughed land, over the low hedge and the sloot, into the bare veld beyond; shadows that grew longer and longer as they passed slowly on pressing in the seeds ... The seeds! ... that were to lie in the dank, dark, earth, and rot there, seemingly, to die, till their outer covering had split and fallen from them ... and then, when the rains had fallen, and the sun had shone, to come up above the earth again, and high in the clear air to lift their feathery plumes and hang out their pointed leaves and silken tassels! To cover the ground with a mantle of green and gold through which sunlight quivered, over which the insects hung by thousands, carrying yellow pollen on their legs and wings and making the air alive with their hum and stir, while grain and fruit ripened surely ... for the next season's harvest!
When the sun had set, the two women with their empty bags turned and walked silently home in the dark to the farm‐house.page: 56
Near one of the camps in the Northern Transvaal are the graves of two women. The older one died first, on the twenty‐third of the month, from hunger and want; the younger woman tended her with ceaseless care and devotion till the end. A week later when the British Superintendent came round to inspect the tents, she was found lying on her blanket on the mud‐floor dead, with the rations of bread and meat she had got four days before untouched on a box beside her. Whether she died of disease, or from inability to eat the food, no one could say. Some who had seen her said she hardly seemed to care to live after the old woman died; they buried them side by side.
There is no stone and no name upon either grave to say who lies there ... our unknown ... our unnamed ... our forgotten dead.
If you look for the little farm‐house among the ridges you will not find it there to‐day.
The English soldiers burnt it down. You can only see where the farm‐house once stood, because the stramonia and weeds grow high and very strong there; and where the ploughed lands were you can only tell, page: 57 because the veld never grows quite the same on land that has once been ploughed. Only a brown patch among the long grass on the ridge shows where the kraals and huts once were.
In a country house in the north of England the owner has upon his wall an old flint‐lock gun. He takes it down to show his friends. It is a small thing he picked up in the war in South Africa, he says. It must be at least eighty years old and is very valuable. He shows how curiously it is constructed; he says it must have been kept in such perfect repair by continual polishing for the steel shines as if it were silver. He does not tell that he took it from the wall of the little mud house before he burnt it down.
It was the grandfather's gun, which the women had kept polished on the wall.
In a London drawing‐room the descendant of a long line of titled forefathers entertains her guests. It is a fair‐room, and all that money can buy to make life soft and beautiful is there.
On the carpet stands a little dark wooden stoof. When one of her guests notices it, she says it is a small curiosity which her son brought home to her from South Africa when he was out in the war there; and how good it was of him to think of her when he was away in the back country. And when they ask what it is, she says it is a thing Boer women have as a footstool and to keep their feet warm; and she shows page: 58 the hole at the side where they put the coals in, and the little holes at the top where the heat comes out.
And the other woman puts her foot out and rests it on the stool just to try how it feels, and drawls "How f‐u‐n‐n‐y!"
It is grandmother's stoof, that the child used to sit on.
The wagon chest was found and broken open just before the thatch caught fire, by three private soldiers, and they divided the money between them; one spent his share in drink, another had his stolen from him, but the third sent his home to England to a girl in the East End of London. With part of it she bought a gold brooch and ear‐rings, and the rest she saved to buy a silk wedding‐dress when he came home.
A syndicate of Jews in Johannesburg and London have bought the farm. They purchased it from the English Government, because they think to find gold on it. They have purchased it and paid for it ... but they do not possess it.
Only the men who lie in their quiet graves upon the hill‐side, who lived on it, and loved it, possess it; and the piles of stones above them, from among the long waving grasses, keep watch over the land.


text:
Toggle: English / Spanish
Pectus excavatum is a deformity of the front of the chest wall with depression of the breastbone (sternum) and rib (costal) cartilages
Repair of pectus excavatum may be recommended for:
While the child is deep asleep and pain-free (using general anesthesia), an incision is made over the breastbone (sternum). The deformed cartilage are removed and the rib lining is left in place to allow re-growth of the cartilage. An incision is made in the sternum and it is repositioned. A rib or metal strut may be used to stabilize the sternum in normal position until healing occurs in 3 to 6 months. A chest tube may be placed to re-expand the lung if the lining of the lung is entered.
Metal struts are removed 6 months later through a small skin incision under the arm. This procedure is usually done as an outpatient.
Hospitalization for 1 week is common. Vigorous activity may need to be restricted for 3 months.
A.D.A.M., Inc. is accredited by URAC, also known as the American Accreditation HealthCare Commission (www.urac.org). URAC's accreditation program is an independent audit to verify that A.D.A.M. follows rigorous standards of quality and accountability. A.D.A.M. is among the first to achieve this important distinction for online health information and services. Learn more about A.D.A.M.'s editorial policy, editorial process and privacy policy. A.D.A.M. is also a founding member of Hi-Ethics and subscribes to the principles of the Health on the Net Foundation (www.hon.ch)
The information provided herein should not be used during any medical emergency or for the diagnosis or treatment of any medical condition. A licensed medical professional should be consulted for diagnosis and treatment of any and all medical conditions. Call 911 for all medical emergencies. Links to other sites are provided for information only -- they do not constitute endorsements of those other sites. © 1997- 2013 A.D.A.M., Inc. Any duplication or distribution of the information contained herein is strictly prohibited.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Well, I finally received a reply from Dark Horse regarding TPB's and reprinting the Marvel comics. I'll just post the email for your enjoyment. For some reason he called me Chris...hmmm.
The following email was submitted by Charles Nowlin on 01/28/2002:
"Will the trend of turning your regular Star Wars series into trades
continue? And will you eventually publish a Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan
trade? Would this include Last Stand on Ord Mantell & the
upcoming series? One last question, what is the status of the 4
book set of reprinted marvel comics? Thanks!"
Hi, Chris,
To answer your questions: Yes, the trend of collecting the story
lines from the on-going series will continue. There will be an
Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon collection, but it will be sometime in the future
after the new series ends, and it will collect both series. And
here's the word on the Marvel reprint stuff, There will be seven
volumes in all, each 300+ pages in color. The first is on the
schedule for June, they should follow one a month after that. Keep an
eye on http://darkhorse.com/products/pubdate/index.html to see when
all of these books are solicited.
Hope this helps,


text:
Tips For Increasing Milk Supply
9 Surprising Ways to Increase Your Milk Supply
Photo 1 of 10
9 Surprising Ways to Increase Your Milk Supply
Got milk? For many nursing mamas, the answer is a surprising — and often disappointing — no. Before giving up all together, get to work! There are plenty of surprising — and often tasty! — ways to increase mom's milk supply for her tot. Keep reading to see what it may take to give your lil one the milk he needs to keep on growing!
Source: Flickr User aurimas_m


text: Limit the number of dogs that a pro can bring and run to the MN. That'll immediately drop the entry numbers. Hopefully bringing the amateur back into the game more. If their pro qualifies their dog under the current rules, then the pro has to decide what dogs to take and force the owners to handle their own dog.


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Adobe AIR Bible : Breathe new life into your desktop applications with AIR. Adobe Integrated Runtime (AIR) lets you use scripting languages you already know and frees you from the dull parts of development - so you can focus on creating exciting and cost-saving application user interfaces using Flash, Flex, and JavaScript. Find all the tips, techniques, and best practices you need to succeed in this comprehensive reference. Install AIR across Windows®, Mac®, and Linux®. Get up to speed on the development tools: JavaScript®, Ajax, Flash®, Flex®, and HTML. Learn AIR programming, development, and debugging essentials. Build a large-scale application and follow best practices. Add windows, dock icons, and dynamic icons. Leverage Ant to automate your build process. Distribute your application with polished finishing touches.
|Computación e Internet


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U.S. Conventional Arms Transfer Policy
In 1977, President Jimmy Carter released a policy for setting controls on transferring U.S. arms, except for countries with whom the United States had defense treaties. The policy requires an evaluation of a country's human rights record and the economic impact such transfers would have on countries receiving U.S. economic assistance. In February 1995, President Bill Clinton approved a classified policy which included restraints for arms transfers that may be destabilize or threaten to regional peace and security. In January 2014, President Barack Obama updated the policy again with Presidential Policy Directive 27 (PPD-27), to state more clearly the criteria for arms transfer decisions and the transfer of technical data and related services.
See more in United States; Arms Industries and Trade; Technology Transfer


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You are here:
Home>Research>Highlights from the Library & Archives >A tracte containing the artes...
A tracte containing the artes of curious paintinge carvinge and buildinge, [by] Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo ; translated by Richard Haydocke
Oxford : 1598
710LOM, NGI Art Library
One of the oldest publications held by the library, this is the first English translation of Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo's treatise on art,Trattato dell'arte de la pittura (Milan, 1584). Lomazzo (1538-1600) was a mannerist artist, better known for his writings on art theory, which he turned to later in life as a result of failing eye sight. The Trattato, also held in the collection, is one of the earliest painting manuals ever published providing advice to artists on many aspects of painting and was widely consulted throughout the centuries. Richard Haydocke embarked on translating theTrattato while still a student in Oxford. An interesting character himself, Haydocke later became a pysician and gained notoriety as the 'sleeping preacher' for delivering sermons in his sleep. These sermons were later proven to be a sham. His translation covers most of the first five books of theTrattato. The illustrations that feature throughout were executed by Haydocke and are based on illustrations in Dürer's drawing manual, Vier Bücher (1528) . A self-portrait is included on the title page. This book was donated to the library by George Mulvany (1809-1869), the Gallery's first Director, who was also a painter.
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I am a Christian lady who loves digital scrapping, reading, making jewelry, gardening and most of all my grandkids! I spend my winters at the beach because I love getting up in the morning watching the sun come up over the ocean. When I'm not at the beach I make my home in the Shenandoah Valley of VA.
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The DRC's Coffee Might Be Served at a Starbucks Near You
A Haitian woman carries products home from a local market.
A construction worker views the progress of the site of a future power plant at the Caracol Industrial Park in Haiti.
Saboune Adakar Abdoukaye fled conflict in Chad, ending up in a camp for displaced persons. He is seen here in the successful shop he opened in the camp with the help of USAID. His business supports his family and he employs seven other people.
USAID is working at border crossings such as Sha'ar Ephraim in the West Bank to improve the flow of goods—thus expanding trading opportunities.
Broad-based economic growth is essential to sustainable, long-term development.
It creates the opportunities impoverished households need to raise their living standards, provides countries with the resources to expand access to basic services, and—most important of all—enables citizens to chart their own prosperous futures.
Despite incredible progress that has reduced poverty levels in every region of the world and helped dramatically accelerate growth in sub-Saharan Africa, the global economic crisis has slowed growth worldwide. Today, three quarters of the world's poor don't have a bank account, and access to capital remains a significant barrier throughout the developing world.
To overcome these challenges and advance rapid, sustained and broad-based growth, we are focused on:
- Mobilize new investors and private capital to underserved sectors and geographies, to create productive jobs, new economic opportunities, and enhance access to and quality of services – from financial and energy to health and education;
- Giving people access to markets, where they can sell their goods and services and play a productive role in their economies;
- Making governments more efficient in how they spend their money, to limit waste, strengthen investment and provide better services for citizens;
- Improving infrastructure like roads, bridges, water supply and electrical grids, critical to lifting the limits on a country's growth;
- Working with private-sector companies to spur economic development, so that citizens can participate in a vibrant economy that allocates resources wisely; and
- Encouraging local channels of financing, empowering entrepreneurs in developing countries to improve their lives and shape their own futures.
Our economic growth programs also help build new markets for the United States by expanding trade and supporting the emergence of middle-class consumers that can buy U.S. goods and services. And we know that stable economies are less vulnerable to crises, terrorist activities and international crime.
To date, we've helped:
- Transition Eastern and Central Europe to market-based economies by assisting with reforms of the commercial legal systems in 15 countries;
- Support the integration of more than 28 countries into the World Trade Organization, facilitating fair trade among countries, including many countries in Eastern Europe as well as Vietnam, Cambodia and Nepal;
- Mobilize up to $2.3 billion in private financing for more than 100,000 entrepreneurs around the world over the past 12 years, through USAID's Development Credit Authority, which uses partial credit guarantees to mobilize local financing and encourage private lenders to extend financing to new sectors and regions;
- Assist partner countries to reform the energy sector in areas suffering from conflict and natural disasters, including Afghanistan and Haiti, helping energy utilities become self-sufficient without need for government subsidies.
Last updated: April 18, 2017


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The Crown Oaks 2011 results are in and Mosheen has won the $1 million race in an incredible display of speed and abilty.
The three-year-old produced a lead all the way victory to win the Crown Oaks 2011 by an unbelievable nine lengths ahead of second place-getter Dowager Queen and third place-getter Roma Giaconda.
This is the third race win in nine starts for Mosheen, who has now won close to $1.6 million in prize money.
Mosheen was paying odds of $5 to win the 2011 Crown Oaks at Luxbet.
It's not too late to open an account with our favourite online bookmaker Luxbet, with three big races still left to be run on Crown Oaks Day.
Open an account today and you could receive a bonus bet worth up to $500 to spend on any race you choose this spring when you enter the promo code MATCHBET.
So sign up to Luxbet and be instantly credited with your $500 bonus now! It's that easy!
Crown Oaks 2011 Results
1st- Mosheen
2nd- Dowager Queen
3rd- Roma Giaconda
4th- Vittoria
Related posts:


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Pentagon Makes Good On Plan To Destroy Critical Book 306
mykos writes "Remember when the Pentagon said they were arranging a taxpayer-funded, government-sponsored book burning a couple weeks ago? Well, they made good on that threat, purchasing 9,500 copies of the book to be destroyed. The publisher, St. Martin's Press, has redacted anything the Pentagon told them to redact in the upcoming second run of the book. They Department of Defense has not yet paid for the burned books, but says they are 'in the process.' Pentagon spokeswoman Lt. Col. April Cunningham gave this statement: 'DoD decided to purchase copies of the first printing because they contained information which could cause damage to national security.' Whew, looks like we're safe now."


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The University of Michigan Comprehensive Eating Disorders Program provides individualized, compassionate, evidence-based care for patients age 8-24 with eating disorders.
We recognize that eating disorders are complicated illnesses caused by genetic, psychological and psychosocial factors, and that neither our patients nor their families are responsible for having developed an eating disorder.
Our program was designed to honor the importance of families in the recovery process, and is built on the principles of family-based treatment, also known as the Maudsley Approach, adapted for both partial hospitalization and intensive outpatient treatment settings.
We provide a safe and therapeutic environment where nutritional restoration and behavior change can occur. Our focus is to help patients, families, and others recognize their own strengths and empower them to take control of symptoms.
Take the Next Step
Schedule an evaluation or learn more about the University of Michigan Comprehensive Eating Disorders Program, call 877-475-MOTT (877-475-6688).


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Rowdy Roadrunner
Students track Rowdy Roadrunner via GPS
By Marybeth Green
Lecturer, College of Education and Human Development
and Belinda Flores
Chair, Department of Interdisciplinary Learning and Teaching
(Sept. 29, 2006)--Students who took the Maymester class IDS 2083 were looking for the UTSA mascot, Rowdy Roadunner, and they found him in Hawaii.
The interdisciplinary studies (IDS) course, Instructional Technology for Liberal Arts and Social Sciences, focuses on a variety of teaching strategies that use technology to promote and enhance learning in the K-12 classroom.
Today's headlines
- La Prensa Foundation is newest member of UTSA Lone Star Society
- UTSA alumna Jordan Kaufmann wins $50K for new stent-graft start-up
- UTSA begins new way-finding sign installation this summer at Main Campus
- USA Today: UTSA long jumper Tyler Williamson rescues three-year-old boy
Article tools
To support learning about geography concepts, Marybeth Green introduces students to global positioning system (GPS) devices and the sport of geocaching. Geo what? According to the Geocaching.com Web site, geocaching is a treasure hunting game where you use a GPS to hide and seek containers holding trinkets with other participants in the activity.
Over the last couple of semesters, students in the IDS course voted on a destination for a Rowdy car magnet from the UTSA bookstore. The magnet is then placed in a nearby geocache with instructions to whomever finds it to help guide Rowdy to the hoped-for final destination.
Movement of the magnet can be tracked through Geocaching.com using a reference code. Each time a Rowdy is moved to a different geocache, that move is recorded by the finder at the Web site. A log and a map are available on the site showing all of the places that each Rowdy has visited. Occasionally the finder will post a picture on the Web site of Rowdy in the new location.
After the Maymester 2006 class chose to send Rowdy to Hawaii, he began his trek in a geocache in McAlister Park. A UTSA graduate who now is a first-grade teacher in San Antonio quickly picked him up.
From there, the Web site documented with the log and pictures the trips he made to Pacific University and Portland State University before returning to San Antonio to visit Trinity and Incarnate Word universities. Later, he made a quick field trip to the University of Richmond in Virginia.
When he finally arrived in Hawaii, Rowdy wasted no time heading for the beach and taking in the sights. But, not one to neglect his studies, he also made a stop at the University of Hawaii - Manoa. As of mid-summer, Rowdy was in the hands of Team GeoBlast, a team of geocachers from Hawaii, and headed from Oahu to the Big Island of Hawaii to leave his footprints on a black sand beach.
The Spring 2006 IDS 2083 class also joined in the geocaching fun. The class chose to send their Rowdy to Alaska. He was left in a geocache on DeZavala Road and was picked up by UTSA philosophy instructor Joseph Rogers.
While not making it to Alaska, Rowdy has traveled far beyond his wildest dreams. Rogers took Rowdy to South Carolina and placed him in a geocache at Sumter's Cypress Trail in South Carolina. From there, this Rowdy traveled around South Carolina and headed to Alabama.
The fall IDS 2083.901 class voted to send their Rowdy to Las Vegas. This Rowdy was placed in a geocache with four quarters so that he will be able to play the slots when he arrived in Las Vegas. Australia was the destination for the fall IDS 2083.001 class Rowdy. This Rowdy was placed in a geocache on campus.
To track the future travels of these Rowdys, go to Geocaching.com. The reference code for the fall .001 Rowdy is TBZNP5. The reference code for the fall .901 Rowdy is TBYYTZ.
Click on the "Track the Travel Bug" button on the navigation bar of the Web site's home page. When the reference code is entered in the Travel Bug Look-up, the site will link to a log of that Rowdy's activity.


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Latest Headlines
Howard Spoils Media Bash
Posted on 17 Mar 2012 by Steven Keys.
They had on their paper-hats and the streamers were ready to pop. The jets were warming up on the tarmacs waiting to fly masses of media onto Dwight Howard's new digs. Then Superman crashed the party. Came in through the wall, as usual. Even with all the guff LeBron James takes from scribes, deep down inside, the media really loves the dude. Why? He gives 'em the one thing that matters most...


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Mystical Area Rug II
# 09811
Product Description
With the look and feel of handmade wool, the Mystical Area Rug from the Metropolitan Collection is a beautiful cool-hued rug with an elegant accented design. This hand-tufted wool area rug provides style and durability to stand-up to the busiest of homes. Order this beautiful area rug today.
Product Details


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Copyright © University of Cambridge. All rights reserved.
"I first saw it used as a homework question more than ten years ago with a year seven class (11 year old students) in Budapest and have used it with every group I have taught since - initial teacher training, mathematics education research students, in-service; everyone gets it. I love it because it forces an acknowledgement of so many different topics in mathematics and is sufficiently challenging to keep almost any group meaningfully occupied within a framework of Key Stage Three mathematics content. This, for me, is the key to a good problem; Key Stage Three content alongside non-standard and unexpected outcomes. For example, notwithstanding the obvious problem solving skills necessary for managing such a non-standard problem, I think it requires an understanding of coordinates, isosceles triangles and the area of a triangle. It requires an awareness of the different factors of 18 and which are likely to yield productive solutions. It requires, also, an understanding not only of basic transformations like reflection and rotation but also an awareness of their symmetries. Moreover, the solution, which is numerically quite small, is attainable without being trivial. In short, I love this problem because of the wealth of basic ideas it encapsulates and the sheer joy it brings to problem solvers, of whatever age, when they see why the answer has to be as it is. It is truly the best problem ever and can provoke some interesting extensions."


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No darn wonder the govt is broke!
No darn wonder the govt is broke!
Bob Gutermuth
Canvasback Chesapeakes
esearchers will visit 100 houses of ill repute -- a whole hamlet of harlots -- to collect data on 700 prostitutes and 150 pimps and madams, referred to as "gatekeepers" in the study's sterile abstract.
Phase one of the study is intended to research "alcohol use/abuse and related sexual risk among FSWs in China," according to the abstract -- a cold hard look at why prostitutes engage in dangerous sex while drunk.
Is this research or scouting? I could have heard, that John Edwards and Former Pres Clinton were teaming up one this one ...or fighting over the appointment.
Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?
I also heard something on the radio about funding another study to study alcohol and its effect on gay men in Rio. It was funded for about 300K if I remember correctly. Don't worry about it Bob, we will just print more money to cover it or I am sure China will kick in a few more bucks for these important issues
Views and opinions expressed herein by Badbullgator do not necessarily represent the policies or position of RTF. RTF and all of it's subsidiaries can not be held liable for the off centered humor and politically incorrect comments of the author.
Corey Burke
Betcha Barney Frank won't be involved in the China study.
Bob Gutermuth
Canvasback Chesapeakes
Maybe Eliot Spitzer's available!
It would have been much cheeper to study the driving habits of
Ole Teddy Kennedy.
"Do more than is required of you"
General George S. Patton
I have know guys that have done that study for $75......
As a patriotic gesture in these trying economic times, I'm willing to do the study for half price
Follow up studies on the entire pacific rim would probably be possible also at a reduced rate
Pink elephants on parade
Mark Foley,
former U.S. Representative
Ted Haggard
Leader of the National Association of Evangelicals
Larry Craig
U.S. Senator
Senate Liason for Mitt Romney's Presidential Campaign
Bob Allen
Member of the Florida House of Representatives
Florida Chairman of John McCain's Presidential Campaign
Glenn Murphy Jr.
National Chairman of the Young Republicans
Chairman of the Clark County Republican Party
Last edited by Roger Perry; 05-16-2009 at 02:25 PM. Reason: to remove


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trying out argoUML with java web start. This is so kewl!
trying out argoUML with java web start. This is so kewl!
Decided to focus on UML for a while. Need to get that down. Preparing docs for work gives me a good excuse for focusing on it.
Banging my head against the wall about the type of abstract data type to use for controling Xd builds and then it's like, just use the DOM, retard. (yes, I often call myself retard when I'm thinking) Why the heck should I build all of these complex structures when it's right there in the DOM. It's like I'm kicking and screaming my way into 1999.
I'm going to stick to the DOM over my natural attraction to Jdom just becuase it's a cross language interface so I know that if some day when things are ported (yeah, in your dreams, einstein) that the APIs can match as much as possible.
Built my first PEAR class based on HTML/Table for lists. I'm working with the guy who did that class so I'm gonna run it by him and see what he thinks. I just wanted to get my hands dirty with the library matching style.
A strange thing that they're doing at work is coding there PHP in a strict Java style. Each page builds calling main (). The how is that by doing this the transition over to Java will be a lot easier. I'm not sure if I'm convinced. Type in error_reporting (E_ALL); at the top of a page and watch the fur fly. Weak typing is a real handicap for that kind of roll out. Still, it is very elegant looking code.
After working with JSP, I have grown rather fond of server side scripting with strong types. Everything that comes along seems to be drawn to the flexibility. Not sure why. E, Ruby... I'm kinda glad that some of the Perl 6 dev talk hints that you might be able to force types. That would be sweet. Getting real sick of all this if (!is_array ($foo)) {} shit.
Not a day goes by where I don't get hit with some new combination of letters that I've never heard of before referring to some "technology" that I've never heard of before. This time it's PVCS, a commercial version of CVS as far as I can tell. They're using it here at the new gig. Go figure. I'll stick to trusty ol' CVS for my own stuff.
Working with Pear. Lots of good shit in it. Not sure why open source developers shoot themselves in the foot by developing without documenting. Allah knows (hi NSA!) that I've made that mistake. Really hard to get people into something when all there is is highly abstract, undocumented code. I'm sorry, phpdoc just doesn't cut it with PHP not being strong typed and all.
Notes about required features for pivot. Issues that seem to come up alot include: Commit: Being able to edit large volumes of content and it being stored and editable but not commited. Similar to a sql commit, but maintaining state over sessions.
Unknown Auth: Being able to give people and groups access to stuff before you even know who they are. Matching an access id to an email or something. Email still seems to be the best universal id for anything. no need to go beyond it.
Wierd using the APache java Oro regex package. Perl5 regular expressions. Works real well, just funny seeing anything Perl like in Java. Feels almost tainted.
The more I work with that bloated blob called Oracle the more I become a PostgreSQL zellot. Need to devote more time to it. Not sure what you pay for when you but products like Oracle or Solaris. The money is certainly not being spent on improved usability.
Was really happy to see a free version of toad. Komodo is handling itself well. Kinda free... kinda open... can for this... can't for that. Things certainly are chaotic of late.
Working... la la la.
So far so good. Hope to get the family out here asap.
They're using Pear here. So typical of things PHP. They say they are modeled after CPAN but it comes off like Perl's half-witted brother. No organization. Almost impossible to figure out where it is or exactly what it is. Go to their web site and it's like crickets. Where the heck is it? How do you get it? Gahhhh!!!!!!!
Sure... complain complain complain. Why don't you do something about it. Good point, Mr. split personality.
From: "Christopher Baker" Subject: Royalty-Bound Patents To: firstname.lastname@example.com
I am very disturbed to learn about your groups intentions of having "standards" that include patents. The fact that this has been placed on a fast track only enforces my worst fears.
I fully support the comments of Alan Cox: http://lists.w3.org/Archives/Public/www-patentpolicy- comment/2001Sep/0131.html
This action will in effect turn your organization, which up till today I had the greatest respect, into nothing more than rubber stamp shills for large corporate interests.
Christopher Baker
===== Christopher R. Baker Tune Smith / Programmer http://cbaker.org/ http://rememberjosie.org/carols/
New HTML Parser: The long-awaited libxml2 based HTML parser code is live. It needs further work but already handles most markup better than the original parser.
Keep up with the latest Advogato features by reading the Advogato status blog.
If you're a C programmer with some spare time, take a look at the mod_virgule project page and help us with one of the tasks on the ToDo list!


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Web Stories
Speech to focus on democracy by force and Iraq, Nov. 6
Posted October 31, 2003; 10:16 a.m.
Speech to focus on democracy by force and Iraq, Nov. 6 A leading authority on democratization will discuss "Democracy by Force, Iraq and the Future of Sovereignty" at 4:30 p.m. Thursday, Nov. 6, in Dodds Auditorium, Robertson Hall.
Thomas Carothers, senior associate and director of the Democracy and Rule of Law Project at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, will deliver the 2003-04 Cyril Black Memorial Lecture. Exploring one of the key issues in the debate over the war in Iraq, he will ask whether it is legitimate for one country to use military force to oust a highly repressive, dictatorial regime and attempt to establish a democratic government in another country.
Carothers is an expert on U.S. foreign policy and has broad experience in matters dealing with human rights, international law, foreign aid, civil society development and East European politics.
His lecture is the eighth in a series of Cyril Black Memorial Lectures. Black, a distinguished scholar of Russian and Balkan history, was a member of Princeton's faculty for 47 years until his retirement in 1986. He served as director of the Center of International Studies from 1968 to 1985.
The lecture is sponsored by the Princeton Institute for International and Regional Studies .
Contact: Tom Bartus (609) 258-3601


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iRhythms A-9800 Passive Noise Reducing Ear Bud Headphones
Passive noise reducing ear bud headphones for iPod, white with acrylic finish, 3 sets of custom fit ear sleeves, 1 set of foam fitted ear sleeves, in-line volume control, travel pouch, 9mm neodymium drivers
Kuromi Glam Earphones
Enjoy your favorite music the super stylish way with this neat Kuromi glam earphone. The ideal accessory for your iPod or other audio players. The cute design features Kuromi with shimmery pink metallic highlights. Digital stereo sound. Super lightweight.


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Journal Journal: [geek] Dual-Boot 2-in-1 Tablet
I recently acquired a 10.1" tablet with a break-away keyboard so this little beast can be either a very small laptop or a full-sized tablet. The keyboard is nice and it is very solid, so this is a great solution for my needs. I have wanted one of these for a long, long time, and now I have one.
Where it gets interesting, though, is that it can dual-boot into either Android or Windows. My first thought was that, since I have an Android tablet already, this might be a good candidate for running the last few Windows applications I rely on, which would allow me to convert my Windows system into another Linux workstation, probably for development. I like my laptop, and it works well enough with Windows 10 on it but I am no fan of Windows 10. So, I booted the tablet up in Windows and looked around.
With the release of Windows 8, I wanted a Windows tablet. It seemed like a good system that would work well for me. I had a touch-screen laptop that came with Windows 8 preinstalled (but has since been migrated to CentOS 7) and it was not as bad as I expected - the interface actually made some sense to me and I did not mind it at all, though I definitely preferred the older Windows 7-style desktop. I had a Windows 8 phone at the time which I bought on a whim and it was the easiest phone to use I had ever owned. So, the Metro desktop on a tablet seemed like a good way to work.
Windows 10, not so much.
As a desktop OS, Windows 10 is not totally unreasonable though it is not my first choice by any means. It's not the best version of Windows, and even though I am primarily a Red Hat kind of guy I definitely prefer Ubuntu's interface to Windows 10. But, on the desktop Windows 10 is workable. On a tablet, though, Windows 10 is a big goose egg. It's clunky, it is harder to use and it takes up too much in terms of resources. So, this dual-boot tablet will be in Android the large majority of the time.


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Binghamton University to mark sixth anniversary of September 11
The Binghamton University campus community will observe the anniversary of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks with a variety of activities.
A morning memorial ceremony will begin at 8:40 a.m. Tuesday, September 11, in front of the Couper Administration Building. At 8:46 a.m., bells will chime to mark the moment when the first plane struck the World Trade Center. Several New York State University Police officers will then participate in a flag ceremony.
Binghamton University is also teaming up with the United Way of Broome County to participate in Day of Caring activities. Faculty, staff and students have volunteered to work on community projects ranging from the refurbishing of the Firehouse Stage of Johnson City's Goodwill Theatre to a painting project at the Endicott Visitor Center.
The Chabad House Jewish Student Center in conjunction with Hillel at Binghamton and the Jewish Heritage Program will hold its annual campus wide, Mitzvah Marathon from 11 a.m.- 6 p.m. Mitzvah is the Hebrew word for "good deed" and the marathon is designed to present the campus community with opportunities to do a good deed in memory of the victims of 9/11. A pavilion will be set up between the University Union and the Library Tower where participants will be able to choose from many opportunities to do a Mitzvah. Participants will fill out a form documenting their good deed that will be attached to a picture of a victim of 9/11 and strung along a memory wall erected on the walkway near the Library Tower fountain.
Many local charity agencies will be on hand to offer volunteer opportunities within the wider community. Also available will be multiple opportunities for participants to give money, make sandwiches for the homeless, donate food to the Community Hunger Outreach Warehouse (CHOW), design New Year greeting cards for soldiers, buy a letter in a Torah Scroll, and say a prayer. A Red Cross blood drive will take place in the Mandela Room from noon – 5 p.m.


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Five Madison Memorial Spartans sign on national signing day
MADISON, Wis. - At Madison Memorial High School on Wednesday, five athletes signed either scholarship offers or are walking on to their new schools' programs.
Jester Weah signed to play football at Pittsburgh while Joe Ferguson will walk on at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Peter Webb will play golf at Valparaiso, Nick Menninga will swim at UW-Milwaukee and Mary Erikson has a scholarship to play soccer at Northwestern.
It's a big day for anyone who signs to play college athletics.
"(I'm thankful for) all the love and support of my family. Everyone's called us crazy for everything we've gone through since I was 4, playing soccer so much, but it's just actually a dream come true and I couldn't be happier about it all," said Erikson.


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There's a hoop that needs to be jumped through to install unsigned drivers:http://windows.microsoft.com/en-US/windows-8/windows-startup-settings-including-safe-mode
Quote from: Jack Christensen on Feb 15, 2013, 06:11 pmThere's a hoop that needs to be jumped through to install unsigned drivers:http://windows.microsoft.com/en-US/windows-8/windows-startup-settings-including-safe-modeWouldn't it be better to install the signed drivers than to modify your OS to accept unsigned drivers?
The signed drivers have been tested and approved for inclusion in the next releases. The only thing that's new is the cat containing the signature. The driver is still the same old non-included usbser.sys so there's not much to test. I'd say it's safe to use it.
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