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Travelling SEAsia - my massive review. Hong Kong, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand (Shenzhen, Macau). Motorbike & vegan travel tips

Mammoth post incoming..... I read a lot of posts in this thread and others to help me prepare for my first time backpacking in South East Asia, used mostly reddit and youtube to collect information and in return to all the helpful people who advised me, I want to add a bit to the info out there. This was our first time backpacking in Asia but we have both travelled a decent amount, apologies to those seasoned backpackers who might eye roll at the obvious things I point out! And how long this post is! few linked included where possible.
I travelled with my boyfriend (both in our mid 20s) for 7 weeks from Nov 2019 to Jan 2020 covering 4 countries; Hong Kong, Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand. We travelled as a couple, not really looking for the typical hostel/partying experience. I had spots/cities we wanted to stop in picked out more so I could check that our return flight back gave us enough time (bf had job to come back for). For those interest I travelled with 40l backpack (Osprey ladies size I recommend for small gals). and 15l day back and boyfriend had 65l backpack. I really reccommend getting up to date on vaccines and/or visiting somewhere like Nomad travel (UK major cities only) for additional shots. We also bought a medical kit from them which came in very handy and I would buy THIS one (works out cheaper than making your own).
Our original plan was to buy a motorbike in Ho Chi Minh and then use that as our main mode of transport to bike across Cambodia and then finally go to Bangkok, so there's a section about bikes at the end.
I am plant based / have a pretty strong dairy intolerance, so I'll add a section about travelling as a 'vegan' as I found it more difficult to get concrete advice on that before I left.
We are from UK so our budget/prices we evaluated against £ GBP
Hong Kong - this was the most built up and relatively similar experience to our lives at home and eased us pretty gently into travel. I would compare Hong Kong to a metropolitan place like London. We stayed in the Wan Chai district and would recommend the are for first timers. Not as expensive as the Central District and gives more local flavour with the street markets which you are likely to explore or pass through on the way to the MTR. Stay on Hong Kong Island over the peninsula as a lot of activities are there and though it is more compact you get a good sense of what HK is really like.
Prices - cost of restaurants was about the same as home - £8-10+ for a meal. Transport - incredibly cheap, routes often less than £1 or 50p Lots of 7/11 and Circle K with reasonable prices for snacks or eating in
Things we did: - Victoria Peak - there are some views more 'within' the city if you take the giant escalator up and walk a bit further as opposed to going straight to the top - Mong Kok area and surrounding markets - Hong Kong museum - quite dated and nothing on history of recent years but it is free - Hong Kong Peninsula night time view of HK island (symphony of lights show) - Temple Street night market - Dragon's Back - this was easy to get to via bus and a nice welcome break from the city. An easy hike. - Ching Chung Koon, Tao temple - really beautiful temple with turtles, easy trip by bus to visit
Shenzhen - We went to Shenzhen as we wanted to see what China was like and had some intrigue about it being a Special Economic Zone. My advice to absolutely everyone, unless you know of something on the other side you want to see, is do not go.
We read that it was free to enter but you would have to get a short stay visa stamp. We ended up stuck in immigration after getting off the MTR for about 2 hours, first you must go and get a photo and a visa put in your passport which includes filling our a form and being asked a few questions about your stay, then you go downstairs and fill our a landing card, get fingerprinted and then pass through to Shenzhen. There isn't a clear explanation as to where these different rooms are to get the whole process done and you're at the mercy of how busy the waiting rooms are for how quick you get out, no visas would be ready and then they would surge in 10 being ready for collection at once.
Shenzhen was a very homogenous city, we couldn't find any historical sites or areas designed for non Chinese to engage with the local fare, though bare in mind Shenzhen is absolutely huge and we were short on time after arriving later. Tube system is cheap and in English and we used cash to pay. When we tried to use bank cards to take out more money I had no luck with Mastercard, Visa and Visa credit card at more than one ATM. The best part of the trip was a small antique shop in the train terminal with genuine trinkets, pottery etc. The guy was quite fair with our haggling too.
Macau - Again we visited this as another special zone outside of HK. Again unfortunately I don't recommend going. To us, Macau was missing all the parts of the Vegas strip that would make a high concentration of casinos together worthwhile; no smoking indoors, no open carry on alcohol on the streets, no street vendors or anything to create an interesting people-watching street, not helped by how spread out all the casinos were from one another. We visited the Venetian which brought us away from the casinos on the ferry side of Macau, so that might have made a difference. The Venetian at Macau had the same feeling as The Trafford Centre if UK readers are familiar with it. If you have been there you'll have your own opinion about it and use that to inform going to Macau.
Hong Kong Protests - Before leaving for HK I'd been keeping up with the protest news. Though by November the 'peak' of protests seemed to have passed a lot in UK news there were still plenty of reports of violent clashes daily. From digging around online I felt that it was still safe to go but just to be mindful of large groups of people collecting or the university area. Whilst we were in HK we didn't see anything that alarmed us or made us feel unsafe. While I don't think the media outlets were incorrectly reporting protest clashes, the actual volume of them appears to be exaggerated (but that's how news makes money, right..). We saw graffiti at most MTR stations and some bus stations that had english text posters and print outs explaining the situation that were even updated overnight to new developments like Trump's treaty. One mall we tried to go to adjacent to some university buildings was closed and the MTR next to it was all smashed up but other than graffiti we felt very safe when wandering round the city both day and night. I would say the university area probably needs the most caution, but if the MTR is stopping there again then there has probably been improvement.
Vietnam - We flew into Ho Chi Minh city, stayed for about 3 days. I'm curious to return to Vietnam in the North of the country, while the South was very interesting to see I was more than ready to move on after about 8 days. Didn't really get a good feeling out of HCMC; extremely loud, sticky, busy place. The best thing we did was go to the War Remnants Museum, things like the old post office were interesting but they don't really take up much of your day. A phone sim for 2 weeks with unlimited data was easy to get and cost less than £10 I think.
HCMC is a good place to take advantage of cheap taxis and cheap food. We could get a good meal and a soft drink/smoothie for £2.50/£3, grab taxi was about £1 anywhere and £1.50 in a grab car, Circle K essentials like a sewing kit were about £2.
Would recommend the Grab app for getting around - though it wasn't my favourite place we visited, I was really able to appreciate the pace and culture of the city zipping through little side streets on the back of the bike from District 1 down to other places in Chinatown area.
There are plenty of markets to visit, but when you've seen the stuff at one the others aren't really much different and people didn't really want to haggle with us.
We did a Mekong Delta day trip, though I'm not always a big fan of a guided tour this was fun and worth going on. Have a look on a site like Klook and pick something that sounds interesting and in budget - we visited temples, honey farm, coconut farm, held some snakes, traditional boat on Mekong and lunch for about £18 each for everything.
Nha Trang - we visited here as somewhere in South Vietnam by the sea before heading westways for the rest of the trip. It was a much calmer and quieter city than HCMC but I'm not sure I would visit again, very windy in November. An unbelievable amount of Russians here, more built up and developed than I was anticipating too. Long Son Pagoda and Ba Ho waterfalls were good to visit, though Ba Ho seemed to be having a very big touristy development built on it which was a weird contrast to the very difficult to climb and almost untouched waterfalls. We biked to Bai Dai beach - just make sure to take the first turn down to the beach before you hit the strip of resorts being built because it goes on forever and they won't let you through for access to the sand. Beautiful views on the way down but can see the whole area and Vietnam in general being swallowed up by package resort tourism which is a shame.
Cambodia - This ended up being my favourite country of the visit. Though there's not really pavements or waste management or sewage and you can't drink the water etc, but there was little rampant tourism, people were kind, the weather was great and we saw some beautiful places. Phone sim will cost you about $5 and you can only top up limited data about $5 for 8GB.
Prices - Cambodia has 2 currency system with USD and riel though most of the time you're using USD (4,000 r = $1). I felt like because of USD prices were rounded up a bit more so it was still cheap, but more expensive than Vietnam. Eating out probably about $5-7 or more if you're not holding back. There aren't many chain stores in Cambodia so you're at the mercy of individual places for a good selection of snacks and then hopefully not grossly inflated prices especially on Western imports ($2.50+ for pringles?). I did find that pharmacies were cheap. Make sure you haggle with tuk tuks or use PassApp, but that app needs some work so it's often easier to take one that's in the street. In PP/SKampot getting around we paid no more than $3. In SR to go to the airport $7.
We took a bus to Phnom Penh from HCMC which made the border crossing quite easy. We had e-visa already printed out etc but it didn't seem to make our waiting time any shorter but saved us having to fill out any forms at border control.
Phnom Penh - felt a lot nicer than HCMC as soon as we got there really. Still hot and dirty and hassled like hell for tuk tuks but I felt more kindness from Cambodians. Compared to HCMC this was a whole lot quieter and more relaxed. Not every building has a formal address so if you're not staying at a hotel (airbnb) bear in mind you might need more visual instructions to find your stay.
We stayed near the Royal Palace and the area round there, though more for expats was chilled out and there were local markets, not far to walk to temples and sites etc. There are a few hotels in this area with pools if you need to cool off. The one we tried we just took the lift up to the roof no problem, but I had messaged another nearby that said it was for residents only.
Siem Reap - though this city is pretty much here for Angkor Wat tourism I enjoyed being here not just to see the temples. We stayed at THIS airbnb which was very reasonable and probably one of our favourite stays. No pool but there were a few places nearby that were happy to let us use theirs, we just bought drinks and food. There are a few temples in the city near the city where you can see fruit bats all in the trees. The river here is nice, big market, lots of cats.
Angkor Wat: we bought a 3 day pass and went on a sunrise tour one morning and then did our own thing on the other days. Doing the tour means you get up and in for sunrise at the right time and it's good to get some history about the places you're seeing. Angkor Wat temple itself wasn't the most interesting to me and there are hundreds if not thousands of people there in the morning that makes it a lot less enjoyable. We also visited:
Ta Phrom - temple from Tomb Raider Angkor Thom city gates Bayon Temple - this was a cool 2 storey temple that is merged with depictions of Hinduism and Buddhism Preah Khan
You can hire a tuk tuk driver for a day around $15 mark or you can hire electric bikes in SR centre and take those around (tourists not allowed to ride motorbikes in temple complex) $5 for 24hrs. Just make sure to give your electric bike a good charge beforehand as the battery doesn't always read right. There is a restaurant in the complex you can swap your battery at - the whole temple area is an extremely large place, you can be 15mins drive in between spots so plan carefully.
Koh Rong Island - we took a flight from SR down to Sihanoukville to then get the ferry across to Koh Rong. Our flight ended up being delayed by 12 hours (welcome to Cambodia) so we had to stay a night in Sihanoukville and go across the following day. Travelling from Sihanouk airport to Sihanouk we had to wear bandanas over our faces to stop breathing in the dust, even though only one window in the car was cracked, it's hella dirty. If you are travelling from the airport to town I highly discourage taking a tuk tuk or rickshaw; the roads are not well surfaced in a more extreme manner than what I saw in PP and SR, there are a lot of freight trucks which will need to be over or undertaken in order for the journey to not take hours. Taxis are unfortunately the most expensive here and the journey cost $20.
Sihanoukville - I'm told recent infiltration and development of Sihanouk by the Chinese has completely transformed the city in the last 2/3 years at an incredible rate with no care for the local Khmer population. It was possibly the worst place I've ever visited. Dusty and dirty on another level, open building sites and construction absolutely everywhere. Very young looking boy in a digger pulling up the pavement less than 5ft from a busy restaurant. I had to climb up a 3ft pile of loose rubble to get to an ATM because the whole side of the road had been obliterated.
If you are waiting for the ferry on Beach Road and you need an ATM but they're all broken like they were when I was there in December, there is an ATM on the actual pier. I was stressing about taking money out for Koh Rong as I heard there was no way to get cash on the island but when I was there I saw a few places that offered cash out (but I didn't try them).
I reccommend reading THIS reddit thread and the LINKED article by a Chinese blogger about Sihanouk.
I read THIS travelfish article about Koh Rong which was very helpful too. I had an impression from the article that the island is quite under developed, which in some ways was definitely true, however it was easy to do what we wanted and we didn't struggle for places to eat etc. We stayed on the main pier (though really this is still a small strip of restaurants and shops, no resorts) and spent most of our time on White Sand Beach. Koh Rong could not be any more different than Sihanouk and it was a great place to spend Christmas and unwind. We didn't do much other than swim and lie on the beach and it was great! There were boat tours to take but a lot seemed to end with 'free drink and party' and we weren't interested in that. Prices on the island were the same as PP/SR. The only things that were a lot more expensive were activities - someone had a jetski you could rent for $100.. and there was some tree top zip line you could do for about $20.
We visited 4k beach next door which was a lot more remote, beautiful as well but only one option to eat. We came past Coconut Beach when we left on the speedboat and that looked to a bit less than the main pier but still stocked with a good few options. Overall the food we had on Koh Rong was some of the best!
Kampot - A small town/city on the river. Very chilled with a nice central part of town with good places to eat. There are hardly any big hotels or buildings over 3 stories - it felt like a more real Khmer place than somewhere like Siem Reap. From Kampot you can visit Bokor Mountain, Kep, salt fields, a lot of natural escapes. Unfortunately we both got very sudden aggressive gastro-bug or food poisoning so we spent 5 days pretty much inside doing nothing (was going to happen at some point). Kampot was a quiet place and we were able to recover well here though.
Kampot to Koh Chang - From Kampot we travelled to Koh Chang, Thailand. I'd seen some speculation online that it wasn't possible to do this trip in one day, but having done it I can say yes it is but it is a long day. Almost every bus trip we took on our adventure meant that we lost all of the day (no motorways in Viet/Cambodia) however the quality of transport means it can take even longer. Vietnam was good with sleeper or semi sleeper buses, however in Cambodia our 6.5 hour trip from Kampot to the Thai border at Trat was 16 people in a 12 seater minibus plus a baby.. so bear in mind long distance trips in Cambodia can be testing! From Trat border we got a minibus to the bus station, then a songalew/thai taxi to the ferry and then a minibus took us to our hotel on the other side [12 hour trip].
Thailand - Much more infastructure and felt more modern than Cambodia and Vietnam, but I couldn't really get a vibe for the place and felt like a lot had been lost to the prevalent tourism. I would maybe visit again but staying away from coastal areas - if felt like the Spain of South East Asia.
Prices could be a little more on top of Cambodian prices but you could find cheap places to eat. About £5 for a meal. Taxis cost about £3 through Grab. 7/11 and Family Mart very cheap snacks for pennies.
Bangkok - as this was our last stop we didn't travel to many temples or big spots outside the city because money haha... we stayed away from the expat areas, the Museum of Art & Culture had a cool free exhibition, the malls Siam Discovery, Siam Paragon are worth visiting for the food halls and just to see. Where we stayed had a pool so we took it pretty easy. Went to Chatachuk but too much tourist and sweat..
Bikes:
We bought a bike in HCMC via facebook marketplace - I would suggest if you know anyone Viet to get them to help you get the true price because as a tourist you're probably seeing an inflated price tag. If not that it might be possible to get one from another backpacker, but then you may be at the mercy of any damages or issues with the bike they're not aware of as they aren't familiar with bikes.
We took our bike (Honda Cub c 50) to Nha Trang with us stowed in our sleeper bus - we visited a few bus trip/tourist places and one was happy to do it for us. I think for 2 people and the bike was about £23 one way, so not bad at all. You'll have to empty the fuel before it goes in the bus so just remember that at the other end you might have to give your bike a min to run the fuel through it again. We sold it in Nha Trang because it wasn't quite powerful enough to get us around with any bags (i was not in charge of buying bike haha...). Bikes are more than easy to rent in every country we went to for probably £5 a day max. We had a bike in Koh Chang but I know in Thailand there are more rules about tourist rental so I would swerve riding on the mainland. The most hectic place we rode was HCMC so I would just suggest avoiding that if you can, even if you ride in your home country.
We sold our bike in Nha Trang via facebook marketplace. We took a loss but it was more about cutting our dead weight before the rest of our trip so to speak. If you really want to ride a lot in SEAsia, Cambodia has no restrictions on tourists having bikes up to 125cc if you want to play the legal legal route (not that I saw any police in Cambodia over 3 weeks!). A bike is also a responsibility and if you're wanting to feel completely free while travelling it might not be right to buy one. Do thorough research! I travelled with a full face helmet and I was grateful for it on windy rides and hectic places likes HCMC. If you're not planning on riding a lot then this is definitely not essential but finding a full face helmet, that fits, that isn't too bootleg to break on you might be some things to consider (bare in mind I was planning on doing long rides when planning this trip initially).
Veganism / plant based / special diets: As mentioned I have strong intolerance to all dairy products and am generally vegan; I still eat eggs maybe once a week and might have fish and chips a few times a year.
With the exception to intolerances and allergies I think the best approach to eating in South East Asia or travelling in general is be willing to be flexible. I only like to eat plant based, but I'm happy to eat eggs and at a push will eat fish or chicken. This is obviously not what I want to do for every meal but consider that you might be getting places late at night, options that are clearly described in English as not containing your allergens may only have meat in them etc.
When I travelled to Japan and also for all these countries, I wrote 'I cannot eat dairy etc' in English on Google translate and then screenshotted the response in the desired language if I needed to show someone to confirm ingredients. For Japan I looked up pre made examples as I know the kanji can sometimes not translate directly, but here I just had the google translate page as a back up.
Hong Kong - a lot of English spoken here and a lot of specifically vegan places however they are more expensive. At 7/11 they sell the 'Kind' granola bars which are vegan and yummy! and I also ate the ready made egg and rice sushi balls. Some ingredients were listed in English but I don't remember finding any other easy go-to's. At bakeries, of which there are a lot, almost everything appears to be cream filled, buttered, flaky pastry. I found I could eat walnut and raisin breads without any noticeable issues, but I didn't have an ingredients list to check.
Vietnam - in HCMC I was very lucky to be staying down the road from a fully vegan restaurant that had ice cream, vegan banh mi, smoothies etc (Healthy World in District 1, there is another somewhere else in the city). Tofu was on menus and on an English menu in a Viet place I could safely pick something veggie. Asking for a dish to be 'chay' means veggie and that works too. Because everything is so cheap, it seemed to be easy enough to eat here. Desserts were limited with the exception of a vegan shop.
They do have Oreos, in general for all these countries, I hope you like Oreos because they're the only dessert option most place !
Cambodia - Sometimes easy and sometimes not. Tofu did appear on menus, I would recommend trying Tofu Lok Lak as a veggie Khmer dish (it will probably come with a fried egg) and I was able to ask for curries just veggie or with tofu. I ate mostly eggs and toast of some kind for breakfast because that was a filling option. Every city I was in there was at least one vegan cafe or restaurant that was not too much more ££ than a normal meal so I knew at least I could get myself something nice and safely vegan every other day while keeping a budget. I was concerned about Koh Rong being a remote island that I would struggle to eat but this was one of the best places! There is a purely veggie/vegan restaurant on the main pier, as well as other restaurants offering vegan pizza, veggie pad thai, tofu curries etc. I also found a second kind of chocolate biscuit that wasn't an Oreo here!
Koh Chang/Thailand - though we were back to having access to 7/11 the options seemed more limited and Thailand was my least favourite place to eat. In 7/11 I did find a few different kinds of Almond milk (& oreos!) but ingredients were rarely in English. Some options at the food halls were inari sushi, Subway (hash browns) and a few other (but more pricey) dedicated vegan restaurants in the central district.
You deserve a medal if you made it this far - any questions please ask me, thanks :-)
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Demons of East Texas

My brother and I were Wing Chun instructors on YouTube until we weren't. We were popular, but not Jessica Ngiri or PewDiePie famous. Before the pay structure change, we could have gotten by on our ad revenue alone. Luckily, our jobs as instructors at a local dojo helped us get by when that changed.
Alright. By local dojo, I mean LA Fitness. And by get by, I mean not miss a rent payment. So neither of us would have turned down extra money or broader exposure. YouTube personalities, you have to understand, are whores. We’re positive and bubbly while we're dying inside, gracious without reason, friendly to every jerk in the comments. We swallow all the foul shit the public spurts into us and then we smile and ask you to, “Click those Like and Subscribe buttons if you appreciated today’s content!” because every goddamn video is an overly saccharine audition for the next. Every channel and public interaction is a meta-level audition for something better and more stable because we all started these channels in high school or college and assumed the roller coaster would never end. So why learn a real skill? Why be a productive member of society if I can figure out the SEO for my shitty website.
Short of pegging ourselves with one shared pork flesh dildo, how were we not MyFreeCams models?
When we got the email invitation to a YouTube athlete meetup in Houston to help rebuild homes destroyed in the hurricane, we jumped at it with no questions, no second thoughts. We barely even saw the real request; to us the words glowed “free advertising” and “exposure” and “unlimited heartstring tugs” in coruscating neon lights.
We ended up a little southwest of Houston in Rockport. It was one of the areas hardest hit by Hurricane Harvey. While we had seen the flooded houses, one to two feet deep in fetid water, Rockport was something else. Houses weren't flooded because the 170 mile an hour winds had reduced them to bare foundation. Nude palm trees and 2x6 beams stood like toothpicks in a tray of country club sandwich hors d’oeuvre, the only sign there had been a fairly modern town standing less than a month prior. Road signs were down, as were - apparently - cell towers to relay my GPS. We were lost.
We breathed a sigh of mixed relief and resignation as the red and blue lights of an Aransas County Sheriff car lit up the dark - darker than anytime in the last 60 years - night sky. Would we get directions or was this a racial profiling stop?
“If you boys are out here to loot,” the sheriff said, hitching his pants higher up against his middle-aged beer gut, “you’re going to be disappointed.”
“No, no. We're brothers. We're here to meet some colleagues and rebuild a couple houses,” I said.
“Oh, I was just jo-,” he twitched an eyebrow. “Brothers?”
This was the reaction I had been hoping for. Just like cam girls got their johns to fall in love with them and buy them extra gifts, we had learned to milk everyone's awkwardness over not guessing our family ties. Rationally, there was no reason to assume the most leprechaun-looking ginger and the black-as-a-cop’s nightstick dude with a high top fade would be related. People who were worried about racial insensitivity, however, were always temporarily irrational.
Doug and I were best friends from kindergarten. When my parents died in a car wreck when I was 12, Doug’s parents offered to adopt me. Officially becoming my best friend’s brother was the only thing that kept me sane. The only thing that kept loneliness from overtaking me.
“Well, yeah,” Doug said. “You can't see the family resemblance?”
The sheriff laughed. “Are you lost?”
As I explained where we were trying to go and our plans for the next week, another car pulled up behind the first, this one a Harris County SUV. A seven foot tall, perfectly tanned guy with a cleft chin and immaculate triangle physique unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. From his slightly curly black hair to his shined shoes, he looked like a movie star. He looked like a movie star the way they look in movies, after hair and makeup and wardrobe are finished. The only imperfection was his slight limp.
“Problem?” Officer Handsome asked Officer Paunchy in a low growl. Even as a straight guy, I could have listened to him talk all day. I could only imagine what Doug was dealing with.
“Nah, just givin’ these boys some directions.” He turned back to us. “West to the collapsed jewelry store, then north about seven blocks. You might have to walk around a bit, but it's one of the warehouses.”
“We should check their IDs,” Handsome said, staring directly at me. The stony set of his jaw was starting to make me uneasy.
“It's alright; they’re relief workers. Let's let them get set up for the night.”
Handsome stared at us in silence for two full minutes. “Fine.”
He walked away as the first sheriff wished us a good night. We drove most of the way to the warehouse before Doug turned to me.
“I know he was a USDA Grade A creepnugget, but he was cute.”
“You're a perv.”
Doug scoffed. “If he had been a woman with huge boobs, we'd be having the opposite conversation right now.”
“I didn't say I wasn't a perv. I just said you were, too.”
“Alright. Fair point.”
“We're talking about the first cop, right?”
Doug scoffed again. We got out of the rental car and walked towards the large, red brick warehouse. It had taken some damage; the tin roof was peeled back like a sardine tin in a few places and a wooden porch had collapsed around the back. It was sturdy and habitable, though. We laughed as we knocked on the small metal door next to a giant, rolling metal garage door.
That was the last time I would see Doug for days.
My memory gets hazy from there, but I remember pain, cold, sweating. Drinking water from a dirty sponge to sate my dry throat, holding back heaves as a rancidly cloying ooze was poured onto my tongue, searching for a weak link in my chicken wire cage.
I remember very vividly our captors. A topless girl with safety pins jutting through scabby, infection-reddened punctures from her left nipple to halfway up the left side of her neck wore a goat head mask with moldering brown fur and chipped - though real - horns. She brought the stale bread to me every morning. A second person, I think a man, in a cat’s head. Blood dripped from its whiskers the first day. On the second, it had dried. By the third it had started to rot. I lost track of the days, but the cat mask was never cleaned and the eyes seemed to track me with a dead, glassy stare. The cat never spoke. Last was Asmodeus, a giant, hulking man in a dark robe who barked commands at me and others huddled in their wire prisons.
Asmodeus called the cat Bael and the goat Baphomet. He called me Little Brother Number Two.
When my head finally cleared from the haze, I was curled on my side. Sawdust, old hair, and dirt caked the spots around my eyes and mouth that had been wetted from sobbing.
“Little Brother Number Two,” Asmodeus said, “do you feel the gravity grow in your stomach? Feel the organ threatening to collapse in on itself and consume the waiting flesh?”
I nodded.
Asmodeus gestured for me to stand. Brushing the detritus from my body, I realized I was naked. I was too hungry to care.
Asmodeus unlatched my cage and slowly, sensuously curled one finger, bidding me toward him. He produced a long, grime-streaked machete from his cloak and used it to prod me forward, the blade tapping my shoulders and spine when I stumbled or slowed.
We walked among the claustrophobic chamber full of other people in cages similar to mine, Asmodeus hunched to avoid hitting his head. Each one was in a different state of hopelessness. One man rocked back and forth, the scent of unchecked urine rising from his hunched body. A woman - a pilates YouTuber I had stalked on FaceBook kicked at the edges of her cage. Baphomet shocked her with a cattle prod with every blow and laughed orgasmically as the woman howled.
The hallway opened into a large room, the ducts and fiberglass insulation, some hanging loose from the ravages of the storm, of the roof were visible 15 feet up. I saw several webcams around the space, noting that they were a high-priced model capable of producing a clear picture even in low light. Asmodeus forced me toward a circular depression in one corner. It looked like it had once been an indoor pool or large hot tub. Maybe the warehouse had been a physical therapy office or gym.
Inside were more webcams bolted directly into the concrete and a thin, leathery-skinned man jumping with the tics of withdrawal.
“Get in,” Asmodeus commanded.
As I dropped myself down, he explained our situation. “Drugs,” he lifted a needle. “Food,” he hefted a can of tuna, testing its weight, then set both on the ground by the edge of the pool. “The first one out gets what he wants. The other gets nothing.”
Bael and Baphomet joined the tall man on either side.
“Begin.”
The man came at me before Asmodeus's voice had even finished echoing in my ears. Have you ever heard the term 'crazy strong'? Our bodies can technically powerlift cars - it just comes at the high cost of shattered bones and shredded tendons, so our brains place a limit on how much of our strength we're allowed to use. Some people's brains, however, are flawed in the way we call crazy, so they're not quite as good at regulating that limit. That's how we end up with 100 pound women who can barely be restrained by three large, male police officers. As it turns out, drug withdrawals can have much the same effect.
The man was emaciated and covered with scabs, but he had no trouble knocking me down. I'd like to say I did some cool Karate Kid move to throw him off, but martial arts lose a lot of their effectiveness when your opponent is flailing on top of you, snarling like a rabid animal, punching and knocking your head against the concrete. He was missing a lot of teeth, and many of the ones he had left were broken, but he made good use of them on my forehead. That's right, my forehead. He bit off a piece of my forehead. I didn't even notice until later, when the blood wouldn't stop dripping down my face.
I forgot all my training and just kicked my legs and beat him back on pure instinct. I somehow managed to shake him off, but he was right back on me. I kicked his face just as he jumped on me. That stunned him enough to give me time to turn and try to jump up and out of the pool. I managed to get my fingers on the ledge but the man grabbed my legs and pulled me back. I rolled as far away from him as I could and got on my feet. The man panted, watching me from the other side of the pool, twitching and wiping compulsively at his nose.
I took the brief pause to breathe deeply and remember my training. I positioned myself into a stance, watching carefully as he slowly stepped towards me.
Here's the thing: I have practiced Wing Chun since Doug and I were chubby little brats. I'm no Chuck Norris, but I’ve kicked my fair share of ass across several tournaments. I know what I'm doing. Problem is, tournaments have rules and people around to make sure everyone follows the rules. I had a psycho in a ceramic mask and zero experience actually fighting in a real fight; the kind you win by making sure the other guy won't get back up instead of getting more points. Still, martial arts were meant for self defense. Surely knowing how to actually fight would be an advantage over the guy throwing blind punches and bites, right?
As it turns out... right. When the tweaker caught his breath and came at me again, I didn't even have to think about it. My hand just surged forward automatically to strike hard at his throat. He fell to his knees and coughed and gasped for breath. Now was my chance. I ran to the wall and jumped up again, pulling myself out of that pool, my face rubbing against the clotted organic goop and hair on the edge that had been left by other fights.
A pair of boots came into view. I looked up into the thick, glazed mask, chipped along the edge of one eye, that will forever invoke horror, nausea, and pure hatred every time I see it in my nightmares, or when it flits unbidden through my thoughts. I jumped to my feet and pushed him, hard. I ran as fast as I could, hoping to find an exit from this place.
That was the severely flawed plan, anyway. Before I could take more than two steps, Baphomet shocked me with the cattle prod and continued to shock me even as my teeth threatened to shatter from the force of my clenching jaw. Someone shrieked but, either me in pain or her in pleasure, I couldn’t tell who. When she finally stopped, I could do nothing but twitch, just like my opponent from the pool, and watch as Asmodeus calmly got back up and brushed the dust from his cloak.
"If you're done letting out your adrenaline," he said, "you can choose your reward."
I was still trying to remember how to breathe and could only grunt in pain. Baphomet shocked me again.
"Choose now or you lose your chance, Little Brother Number Two," Asmodeus said. "Food or drugs?"
Even through my pain and confusion I could feel my stomach twisting itself in hunger. I had no idea how long I'd been here, but I hadn't had a crumb to eat since. Even if it was just a measly can of tuna, food was the logical choice. My situation was bad enough without adding drug withdrawals to the equation. Why would I ever take the other option?
"Food," I rasped out. Asmodeus gestured for me to stand up. I did, with some difficulty, and Baphomet poked me with the cattle prod, the voltage lowered to something merely uncomfortable, to guide me back to my cell. As I left, I heard the man I'd fought scream.
"No! No! I need it. Please, I need it! No, don't take me there again aaaAAAAH, DON'T TAKE ME THERE AGAIN, NO, NO!”
His screams devolved into unintelligible sobs, and the sound of him was cut off entirely as we walked back into the chamber.
I thought he was talking about his own cage. I couldn't imagine at the time that there could be a place worse than this for these psychos to put us in.
I beg any god that may be out there every day to make me forget there was.
I meekly crawled back into my cage, fearful of receiving more shocks. I could tell Baphoment was disappointed I didn't resist. I thought she would shock me anyway, but someone screamed nearby and she decided to torment them instead.
I would like to be able to say I am a better person than I was. The truth, though, is that, while I felt bad for whoever was being shocked right now, I was more relieved that it wasn't me. I felt scared for the poor man I fought, but my stomach was forcing me to wonder where the hell my reward was. I did what they wanted. I'd earned it. Where was my food?
I don't know how long I waited but, eventually, it did come. Asmodeus knelt in front of my cage, a plate in his hand covered with a cloth napkin. He looked like a waiter at a Venetian Carnival celebration from a nightmarish James Ensor painting.
"You chose food," he said. "You earned it as your just reward. However, you had a little temper tantrum, didn't you, Little Brother Number Two? So you're getting a special meal."
He opened the cage and placed the plate in front of me before locking it again.
"Eat it all or you'll be force fed seconds," he said, and left.
I hesitated. The plate was in front of me, the cage so tight it barely fit inside with me. The blue linen napkin hid whatever they expected me to eat. I knew nothing good could be under there. I sniffed the air. It didn't smell like anything, so it couldn't be shit. I touched it lightly. It wasn't warm, not very much at least. I noticed something red beginning to stain the napkin. I instantly felt nauseous seeing that.
I took several deep breaths, swallowing back the bile trying to crawl its way up my throat. My imagination was conjuring up images of chopped up human organs, goat brains, aborted fetuses, a thousand horrible things these monsters could have come up with. I had to see what it was. I had to know. I pulled away the napkin.
It was a dark-skinned hand, chopped at the wrist, still dripping blood onto the plastic plate. On the side, in the skin between the thumb and the forefinger, was a tattoo of a small mouth with sharp teeth. I would know that tattoo anywhere.
They had given me my brother's hand to eat.
My immediate reaction was to dry heave, my head swimming, and my heart breaking. My brother no longer had his hand because of these horrific people. But, before I could get angry, Baphomet entered the room and rapped her knuckles against my cage, cattle prod clutched in the white knuckles of her other hand, reminding me of what would happen if I didn’t comply.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. It was human flesh. My brother’s fucking hand. How the hell was I supposed to eat that? She pointed the rod towards the food, glaring at me. I didn’t make a move.
She shook her head in mock disappointment, but I saw the grin threatening to split across her face underneath the mask as she brought the prod towards me. As soon as it made contact with my skin, my body locked up but my mind was still aware for a few seconds. I noticed tiny details, like cigarette burns on the underside of her wrists, and the faint smell of rotting roses. I could have sworn she apologized to me, but that probably didn’t happen. At that moment, I decided I would let her torture me until I passed out. I would do anything other than eat my brother’s hand. I don’t remember much of what came right after that. Presumably, I blacked out for a while.
When I came to, I was surrounded. Asmodeus stood right across from my cage, flanked by Baphomet and Bael. In front of them was an object on a rug. It was covered with a dark velvet blanket so I couldn’t tell what it was.
“Well,” Asmodeus began, “you haven’t been quite the model prisoner, now have you? But you’ve been punished enough, and you did put up a good fight earlier, so I will give you two options. Either eat what you have been given, or we will give the rest to the others. After all, they are starving.”
With that, he removed the blanket to reveal my poor mutilated brother. He looked awful. Pale-ish and trembling, the bones of his shoulders jutting out and his teeth pushing out the gaunt skin of his mouth. He looked like one of those Somali pirates. Barely conscious, he stirred a little. I could make out the stump where his hand was cut off. It had been roughly tied with what looked like an old piece of red silk.
Knowing this was a battle I had already lost, I hesitatingly brought the plate towards me. There was some sticky congealed blood on it. The meat looked like beef, kind of, although less red. I told myself that I would have to pretend it was beef or veal I was eating and just power through it. I closed my eyes and brought it to my mouth, trying to swallow as much of it as I could in each bite. But, oh god, when you’re starved for days on end, and then given what could be considered a goddamn feast, animalistic instincts take over. Soon I was tearing off chunks of meat with my mouth like a bear.
Doug decided to become fully conscious at that moment. I will never forget how he looked at me. First with relief and love, happy to see me after so long. The expression quickly turned to pain as he must have felt the loss of his hand and looked toward the stump. Pain melted to horror, shock, betrayal as he realized what I held in my hand, what I had been eating.
He began to scream, a bone-shattering, blood-curdling scream, which made me drop his hand in fright. He didn’t stop, even after Baphomet poked him with her rod, seemingly immune to the pain now. Without pausing for breath, he kept yelling, while I unconsciously moved towards the back of the cage. Finally, he had to be taken out. As Bael and Baphomet lifted the rug off of the floor and marched out, Asmodeus unfolded his long, powerful frame and followed them out, a limp breaking the evenness of his gait. It gave me pause, but I couldn't figure out why.
And, even though the screams became distant, they lasted for hours, haunting me as I moved in and out of sleep in my cage.
I awoke with a start on what I assume was the next morning, the nothingness of my sleep having been interrupted by the stink of shit and piss. My head was blessedly empty until I remembered the taste of blood on my tongue.
Fuck. Fuck!
I didn't know if Doug would forgive me but at least he might have lived. That was nice to think about, but I was sure Baphomet and Bael wouldn't leave me much time to sit with anything remotely pleasant and, wouldn't ya fuckin' know it, I was right.
A cat's skull, strangely large and with scraps of flesh and maggots filling in the blanks, swam into view. Bael was lying on his stomach, face to face with me in my cage, and searching my eyes with his empty ones.
There was something about him, disgusting as he was, that felt intelligent, dignified. I could easily imagine him having been in my position before, hardening himself, losing who he was and receiving nothing but a gruesome mask and what was left of his life as a "reward."
I feel like he could read what I was thinking. A tiny bit of him seemed to loosen, and beneath the horrible mask, the remaining tendons, I could make out his mouth sliding open into a bloody near-toothless smile. He didn't speak - I told you, he never spoke - but he nodded just a little and wriggled even closer until I could feel his breath, close enough and rank enough that, God help me, I nearly vomited up poor Doug's hand.
We sat there like that, captor and captive, for what felt like hours, until I heard Baphomet's laughter and a woman's screams of pain. Bael crawled to his feet and skulked off, hands shaking a little.
I heaved a tiny sigh of relief; one that was interrupted by Asmodeus's return.
"Everything's bigger in Texas," I heard him saying as he rounded the corner, and there was a laugh in his voice that made me nauseous again.
As he came into my line of sight, I reached down and picked up a rock, holding it in against my arm and praying it was concealed from his view.
I sat, petrified, staring down the dimly lit hallway. Asmodeus paused, unmoving for a moment. The sour lights above flickered on and off, leaving a looming shadow of his tall figure on the floor. As I gazed at his ceramic mask, he grinned. I could tell by the way his eyes curled upwards, forming a taunting look.
He crossed the long hallway in several steps, his limp now impossible for me not to notice. He reached his hand out to the cage door and gripped it, knuckles whitening.
“Little brother number two,” he said, “let’s go for a walk.”
With a swift motion, he unlocked the cage door and gestured for me to step forward. My heartbeat picked up as I stepped out of the cage. Was this a shot at freedom?
Asmodeus limped ahead of me, the lights continuing to flicker. My mind raced faster and faster as I planned my escape. As we came to the end of the hallway, it darkened quickly. Only one light remained in the hallway before we came to a turn.
In a split second decision, I hurled the rock into the overhead light.
It shattered and went dark, a static darkness ripping through the lightscape. I acted quickly, aiming a sweeping kick into Asmodeus’s knees. Weakened already by his limp, his tall body tipped to the side like a grain silo wired with demolition charges. As he fell, his arms flailed, reaching for a target he couldn’t find. His head slammed against the thick, wooden wall, a corner of the mask chipping off, and didn’t move.
I scampered to my feet, quickly rounding the corner of the hall. My bare feet slapped the concrete floor loudly, reverberating in the narrow quarters. I quickly came to the end of the hall and ducked behind a door as I heard voices on the opposite side.
I held my breath, silent and still while I listened. Asmodeus was already up apparently, sounding unperturbed and no worse for wear as he calmly issued an order. In the dark space where I lingered unseen, like a shadow concealed by the night, I felt safe. After God - or perhaps the Devil - only knows how long I'd been kept in a cage, attended to like an animal awaiting slaughter, there was immense power in simply being hidden from view. They couldn't control me if they couldn't find me, and this was my chance to turn the tables on the bastards. A course of action, brutal and bloody, had begun to form in my mind when a dagger pressed against my throat and a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling a scream before it could escape. A hot, rancid breath tickled my ear, soon followed by an icy whisper.
"I like this cozy little nook in the dark too, Little Brother Number Two." The voice was as serpentine as it was feminine. "Such a silly nickname for a specimen like you, so big and strong," it cooed.
"Who are you?" I whispered back.
"Baphomet is all I am. Anyone else I might be is long lost."
"What are you going to do to me?"
The blade at my throat bit deeper into the thin skin covering my Adam’s apple, drawing a rivulet of blood that trickled into the sweat and grime plastered to every inch of my skin. "Anything I please," Baphomet replied and giggled softly, like a viper uttering a sibilant hiss. "It would please me to give you a chance to determine a better fate for yourself, to assume a more pleasant position here in this lovely Hell I've learned to call home."
"What position?"
The dagger drew second blood over my carotid artery as she shifted it and pressed harder. It occurred to me she might very well slit my throat for no other reason than she loved the cutting and bleeding of a body. "Beside me," Baphomet whispered. I felt her lips, scabrous and moist, brush my earlobe. "Inside me…"
A shiver swept through me like a chill wind. "What do you expect me to do?"
"To kill for me… and with me."
"Asmodeus."
"No, you fucking fool!" she whispered. "He cannot be killed! He made me Baphomet! He made all of this! He is God here!"
"I don't understand."
"You will learn with time, or die a fool," Baphomet said dismissively.
"Please!"
"I am not here to please you, fool," Baphomet spat. "Not yet…" And then she was done with whispers, wailing instead, "I have him! I have the runaway!"
Soon dim fluorescent lights flickered to sickly life in the corridor, and Baphomet and I were no longer alone. Flanked by Bael in his pitiful tattered and rotted cat's head, stood Asmodeus towering before us, the small trickle of blood leaking from his forehead and drank greedily up by the broken edge of his mask making him look all the more imposing.
"Well done, my dear Baphomet, huntress extraordinaire. It will be your honor to deliver the death blow to Little Brother Number Two, but only after we've wrung all the suffering we can from him."
"No, beloved Asmodeus," Baphomet replied. "He will not die by my hand or yours."
Asmodeus's fists clenched, and his body tensed like a great beast readying to strike. Bael backed away from his side, trembling as he shambled. "Do explain why you would deny my right, and refuse your duty, to discipline this impudent side of long pork," Asmodeus demanded. "AND DO IT QUICK."
"I-I want him… as my new consort!" Baphomet cried. "Bael has grown weary of this life, and I fear he loves me no more… Let this prisoner fight for the place beside me and, if he wins, you can make him anew as you made me… and poor Bael."
"You want that pathetic slab of meat to be your new side-kick plaything?" Asmodeus sneered at me with hateful eyes, his mouth turned up in a look of disgust I never thought possible in another person. Was he even human? There was something incalculably evil about this… man... Whoever, whatever he was, I could hear in his voice a hatred for his fellow man. For me. It unsettled me, made me feel wrong, like I should hurt myself to correct the obvious mistake I was in his eyes. He shot a hateful glance to Baphoment, just as vile as the one he made for me. Hate equally; he didn't discriminate, it seems. Why would this woman follow such an inhuman creature? Then he spoke once more, very clearly exasperated.
"Speak. State your case, then, and be done with it. I'll admit, I've grown tired of Bael. His sadittude offends me."
Bael looked more than a bit on edge at these words spoken so coldly. They didn't even acknowledge his presence. He knew his time here was nearing the end. Desperate fear stank from his sweating pores. He was visibly agitated and ready to pounce, to fight, the keep the last bit of dignity he had in him.
"I- I don't know, there's something different about him. I can't place it. Maybe he's just new and I just know I can't stand the sight of the cat-faced asshole anymore. Do I need more reason? Really? Do I?" There was more fear than contempt in Baphomet's voice, it looked like she knew her place, as if her defiance only ever went so far where Asmodeus was concerned.
I grew more terrified as the scene unfolded; after all I'd experienced, something was coming to a head here and now. I felt it like a boa constrictor tightening around my rib cage. The wrongness was all I knew, all I could think about.
Asmodeus took a deep breath, putting a leash on his anger. His eyes flitted to each of us, boring into us for a long, near-infinite silence. “Fine,” he said.
And then I knew. I knew who Asmodeus was. The improbably tall frame, muscles hidden but not entirely concealed beneath his dark robe; the limp; silence followed by his guttural “fine”. He had been the second officer that stopped when Doug and I got directions from the Aransas County deputy. Officer Handsome.
I’m don’t have a superstitious bent, nor am I particularly religious. Still, Asmodeus did seem to radiate some kind of evil, powerful aura. Baphomet’s insistence that he couldn’t be killed, that he was the architect of this Hell on Earth, fueled that feeling.
But he was mortal. Big, strong, probably dangerous enough to kill me in a fair fight; but mortal. After all, I had knocked him cold a few seconds earlier. The crusting, crimson mark from that brief fight no longer looked like a badge of a battle overcome; it was a beacon of hope.
“Little Brother Number Two, Bael. Baphomet has just volunteered you for the Battles Royale. Bael, should you prevail, you’ll retain your title and position. Little Brother Number Two, in the event you come out on top, you will usurp Bael’s power and principality.”
“I want my brother,” I said.
Asmodeus tilted his head to the side. “Are you in a position to bargain?”
“I don’t care. If I win, I want him back and unharmed.”
Asmodeus spread his hands, the dead, smiling face on his mask bobbing in a nod. “Little Brother Number One will be unharmed and unarmed if you win. You have my word.”
He stepped closer to me and bent down, so close I could feel icy waves radiating from his ceramic mask. “Do you think you die if you lose? Is that why you’re so glib to join the tournament?”
I said nothing.
“That junkie you bested wasn’t put down for days. We waste nothing in this paradise, Little Brother Number Two. As long as he could provide for us like a producing, ovipositing chicken.” Asmodeus stood. “Baphomet, take your new lover over to Beelzebub’s lair so he’s properly motivated.”
Baphomet led me through tarps, shipping containers, and palettes arranged like walkway railings. We arrived at a solid metal door I hadn’t seen. The screams and moans I could hear every waking moment were clearly coming from whatever Hellscape laid behind that rusted portal. I didn’t want to know, but I said nothing. Baphomet opened the door.
A rush of stench wafted out like a blast of frosty air from an open freezer door. It stank of rot and decay punctuated by the sweet smell of roasting meat. I also heard a new sound. Much quieter than the screams and pleas but more consistent, was the wet slopping sound of a dozen mouths chewing too much gum.
Rounding a blind corner, I could see several cages just like the one I lived in most nights. The people inside these cages, however, were clutching their newly bloodied and incomplete extremities. Some sobbed, some cursed. Some prayed for death. Still, I couldn’t find the source of the slopping.
And then, there they were, arms and legs strapped to medical chairs that may have been obstetric examination stations. Men and women were being force fed by an obese man with no shirt who wore a decaying pig’s head and wire frame wings covered in human flesh. I watched maggots squirm in the eyehole of Beelzebub’s mask. The prisoners ate strips of meat, dripping with the victims’ blood. Beelzebub heaved a prisoner along beside him, cut strips from the man’s - no, Jesus, the boy’s - body and shoved it into the still-chewing mouth to an exasperated groan from the corpulent bodies. The prisoners’ stomachs pooched out like a party who had gotten their fill at Golden Corral. Their faces were a modern impressionist painting constructed from mingling blood and grease.
My eyes fell on Doug, across the room from me. His eyes were closed, but tears flowed heavily as he ate.
“Losers who don’t die in the ring are taken here. They eat, or they or eaten,” Baphomet said, then turned and walked out.
I found my way back to my cage alone. I could have made a run for it, but I needed Doug.
The next two days, I was fed but not let out of my chicken wire cage. I could hear fights raging in the pit, however. And screams from losers being taken to Beelzebub.
And then, on the third day, Baphomet led me to the cement pit in the large room of the warehouse. A man so fat he seemed stuffed leaned against the wall of the ring, along with two athletically-built people. I recognized the large man as one of Beelzebub’s creations. I also recognized one of the others as a YouTube boxing instructor. I’d need to watch out for her.
Asmodeus’s deep voice rang out: “Begin.”
I delivered a side kick to the head of the athletic man nearest me. His skull snapped back, making contact with the concrete wall. His eyes unfocused and I knew he would soon lose his grip on consciousness.
And then Baphomet’s words came back to me. “Losers who don’t die in the ring go to Beelzebub.”
Before the man fell, I kicked again, harder. A dark puddle formed under his fallen body. He wouldn’t wake up in Beelzebub’s dungeon. He wouldn’t wake up at all.
The boxing instructor delivered several blows to the body of her corpulent attacker. He didn’t try to hit her; his weapons were his teeth. They had been filed down to perfect ripping tools, his mind filed down so he nothing but Beelzebub’s command: EAT.
I grabbed the man’s arm and twisted. In a normal sparring session, I would have stopped after a quarter rotation or less. In a street fight, maybe a half turn to dislocate the joint. I went for the full, joint-breaking turn and a half. The boxer, clutching her bleeding forearm where the fat man had landed a bite, delivered a savage kick to his groin.
I placed his temple near the concrete wall, but had to turn my attention to the boxer as a fist came my way. My wing chun was no match against her powerful, but slow, boxing. As soon as I had knocked her out, I grasped her throat with all my strength while aiming several kicks into the fat man’s temple.
Yes, it was murder. But it was also mercy. We were in Hell, but Beelzebub was going to take them somewhere worse. I cried uncontrollably that night and prayed to a god I hadn’t believed in to forgive me.
Asmodeus sat in front of my open cage when I awoke after finally trailing off at some point.
“I know what she sees in you, Little Brother Number Two,” he said. “We all personify a demon. A deity with unique flair and specialization. Yours, I think, is wrath. After that cold display yesterday, what else could it be? And wrath,” Asmodeus leaned forward, “is the realm of Satan himself. You’re powerful, Two. I hope you prevail tomorrow.”
I nodded.
“My father was one of us, too. Abaddon, the destroyer and sower of discord. He taught me about his hobbies with… younger boys. With my looks, he said, I could bring him an unlimited number of willing children for us to share. I had no desire. I used my looks to distract and convince. To cause others to do terrible things because they wanted my flesh.
“My father was among those. I squirmed on the floor of his motor home, appealing to all tastes equally like a nubile Adonis. I told him I would let him touch me if we played a game. Russian roulette. He blew his mind out in a car. Didn’t notice all the chambers were full because he couldn’t take his eye off the one he wanted to fill.
“Do you know who Dean Corll was?” Asmodeus asked.
I shook my head.
“A great man. The most prolific serial killer of his day. He liked boys, too. My father was one of his first. Corll imparted to my father his tastes and his knowledge of our,” he gestured to himself and me, “lineage. He was Samael. The demon of death.
“We hunt here, near Corpus Christi, like true believers; feeding on the body of Christ to keep us sated. I’ll teach you well, Satan. Then I’ll turn over my leadership to your capable hands.”
Asmodeus stood, then added, “Remember, Bael is a clever one.”
I stood in the ring again, this time Bael among the other three fighters. His cat mask drooped on one side and it seemed fractured near the middle. Still he wore it.
Bael winked at me, then - almost imperceptibly - lifted his left hand. I could see Baphomet’s cattle prod in his palm. The fucker was going to cheat.
Asmodeus called for the start of the match and Bael and I ended up fighting opposite opponents. He kept the prod hidden, though he did make continual eye contact with me as he tapped his neck.
I drove my opponent to a position against the wall with well-placed punches. A single, flying kick toppled them toward the wall. I could feel the crunch in the spine as my foot forced in a direction contrary to the stationary wall. His neck broken, I had saved this man from Beelzebub.
Bael tapped his neck skin again and raised his chin. I considered going for the easy kill and ramming my fist into his windpipe hard enough to suffocate him. Then I touched my neck and felt the line of scabbing blood from Baphomet’s knife. Bael’s neck was ringed with cuts in various stages of healing and one long, deep scar. Likely why he couldn’t talk.
He gestured with the hidden prod again. I understood, finally. Take it.
I ran at him, watching him flinch. I landed some pulled punches and found the prod in his hand. As I backpedaled, thinking we might fight Baphomet and Asmodeus together, Bael pulled out a shard of glass and pressed it up behind his ear, directly into his brain.
I held the prod behind my back, my front toward Asmodeus and tried to catch my breath. I had to be ready.
Asmodeus and Baphomet strode forward. Asmodeus nodded a single time in my direction. Baphomet stroked the crotch of her pants and licked her lips.
Could I take them both?
End in comments.
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Lecture XXVI. — The Empire of Solomon (ii)

By Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D. D. 3. Doubtless through the same Egyptian influence was secured a still more important outlet of commerce on the southeast. Through the es- tablishment of a port at the head of the gulf of Elath, Palestine at last gained and access to the Indian Ocean. Ezion-geber, "the Giant's Backbone," so called probably from the huge range of mountains on each side of it, became an emporium teeming with life and activity; the same, on the eastern branch, that Suez has in our own time become on the western branch of the Red Sea. Beneath that line of palm-trees which now shelters the wretched village of Akaba, was then heard the stir of ship-builders and sailors. Thence went forth the fleet of Solomon, manned by Tyrian sailors, on its myste- rious voyage——to Ophir, in the far East, on the shores of India or Arabia. From Arabia also, near or distant, came a constant traffic of spices, both from private indi- viduals and from the chiefs. So great was Solomon's interests in the expeditions, that he actually travelled himself to the gulf of Akaba to see the port. 4. The mention of the Tyrian sailors introduces us to another great power, now allied with Israel. Hiram, king of Tyre, had already been the friend of David. But he was still a faster friend of Solomon. There is something pathetic in the relation- ship between the old Phœnician and the young Israelite, a faint secular likeness of the romantic friendship of David and Jonathan. Hiram, too, has shared in Solo- mon's glory. Alone of all the Tyrian kings, his name is attached by popular tradition to a still existing monu- ment. A grey weather-beaten sarcophagus of unknown antiquity, raised aloft on three huge rocky pillars of stone, looks down from the Hills above Tyre over the city and harbor, and still is called "the Tomb of Hiram." The traditions of this alliance lingered in both kingdoms. Tyrian historians long recollected the interchange of riddles between the two sovereigns. The Tyrian archives, even as late as the Christian era, were supposed to contain copies of the many letters which had passed. Two of these are preserved, written on the occasion of an embassy from Hiram, sent to anoint, or take part in the anointing, of Solo- mon. Hiram supplied Tyrian architects and timber from Mount Lebanon for Solomon's temple. Solomon visited Hiram at Tyre, and was even supposed to have worshipped in a Sidonian temple. He gave to Hiram the district of Galilee, on the border of Tyre, which in the name of "Cabul" (or "Gabul") preserved a recollection of the humorous complain of King Hiram to his royal brother for having given him the "offscourings" of his dominions. In its later name of "the boundaries of Tyre and Sidon," long after the extinction of the Phœnician power, it retained a remi- niscence of the ancient friendship. But the main result of the alliance was in the ex- tension of the commerce of both countries. Tyrian sailors were supplied to the fleet of Solomon, starting, as we have seen, in the Red Sea. But there was a direct union in the Mediterranean also. Not only was there a navy of Ophir, that is, of the extreme east, but there was also, in express conjunction with the navy of Hiram, a navy of Tarshish, that is, of the extreme west. Without entering into the tangled question of the details of the two Hebrew texts which record the desti- nation of the fleets, we may dwell on the return of the voyagers, as they are described, with their marvel- lous articles of commerce, from west and east,——gold and silver, almug, ivory, aloes, cassia, cinnamon, apes, and peacocks. The "abundance of silver" probably came from the silver mines of Spain. The apes may possibly have come from that one spot where they exist in Europe, our own rock of Gibraltar. Africa was the great gold country of the ancient world, and may also have fur- nished the elephants' tusks. But some of the articles themselves and the names of more point directly to India. Ophir, the seat of the gold, may be directly identified with the gold mines of Sumatra and Malacca. The almug or algum is the He- braized form of a Deccan word for sandal-wood, and san- dal-wood grows only on the coast of Malabar, south of Goa. The word for ape——"capi" or "koph," whence the Greek kebos——is the usual Sanscrit word for a monkey. Thukiyim, the name for peacocks, is a Sanscrit word with a Malabar accent, and the peacock is indigenous in India, and probably had not yet had time to extend into the west, as it afterwards did from the sanctuary of Juno at Samos. The word used for the tusks of elephants is nearly the same in Sanscrit; and the fragrant woods and spices, called aloes, cassia, and cinnamon, are all, either by name or by nature, connected with India and Ceylon. Let us for a moment contemplate the extraordinary interest of these voyages for their own and for all future times. An admirable passage in Mr. Froude's history of Elizabeth describes the revolution effected in England when the maritime tendency of the nation for the first time broke through the rigid forms in which it had hitherto been confined. Much more marvellous must have been the revolution effected by this sudden dis- ruption in the barriers by which the sea now became familiar to the secluded inland Israelites. Shut out from the Mediterranean by the insufficiency of the ports of Palestine, and from the Indian Ocean by the Arabian desert, only by these extensive alliances and enterprises could they become accustomed to it. We know not when the Psalms were written which contain the allusions to the wonders of the sea, and which by those have become endeared to a maritime empire like our own; but, if not composed in the reign of Solomon, at least they are derived from the stimulus which he gave to natural discovery. The 104th Psalm seems almost as if it had been written by one of the superin- tendents of the deportations of timber from the heights of Lebanon. The mountains, the springs, the cedars, the sea in the distance, with its ships and monster brood, are combined in that landscape as nowhere else. The 107th describes, with the feeling of one who had been at sea himself, the sensations of those who went down from the hills of Judah to the ships of Jaffa, and to their business in the great waters of the Mediterranean; the sudden storm, the rising of the crest of the waves as if to meet the heavens, and then sinking down as if into the depths of the grave; the staggering to and fro on deck, the giddiness and loss of thought and sense; and to this, in the Book of Proverbs, is added a notice rare in any ancient writings, unique in the Hebrew Scriptures, of the well-known signs of sea- sickness; where the drunkard is warned that if he tarries long at the wine, he shall be reduced to the wretched state of "him that lieth down in the midst of the sea, or as he that lieth down before the rudder." Not only were thees routes of commerce continued through the Tyrian merchants into Central Asia, and by the Red Sea, till the foundation of Alexandria, but the record of them awakened in Columbus the keen desire to reopen by another way the wonders which Solomon had first revealed. When Sopora in in Hayti became known, it was believed to be the long-lost Ophir. When the mines of Peru were explored, they were be- lieved to contain the gold of Parvaim. The very name of the West Indie given by Columbus to the islands where he first landed, is a memorial of his fixed belief that he had reached the coast of those Indies in the Eastern world which had been long ago discovered by Solomon. Imagine too the arrival of those strange plants and animals enlivening the monotony of Israelitish life; the brilliant metals, the fragrant woods, the gorgeous pea- cock, the chattering ape——to that inland people, rare as the first products of America to the inhabitants of Europe. Observe the glimpse given to us, into those remote regions, here seen for an instant. Now for the first time Europe was open to the view of the chosen people,——Spain, the Peru of the old world, Spain, Tar- tessus, Cadiz (the "Kadesh," the western sanctuary of the Phœnician people)m the old historic Straits,——the vast Asiatic beyond,——possibly our own islands, our own Cornish coasts, which had already sent the produce of their mines into the heart of Asia,——were seen by the eyes of Israelites. And on the other side the inven- tory of the articles brought in Solomon's fleets, gives us the first distinct knowledge of that venerable San- scrit tongue, the sacred language of primeval India, the parent language of European civilization. In the thousandth year before the Christian era, we see that it not only was in existence, but already had begun to decay. The forms of speech which the sailors of Hiram heard on the coast of Malabar are no longer the pure Sanscrit of earlier days. In these rude terms, the more interesting on this account, thus embedded in the records of the Hebrew nation, we grasp the first links of the union between the Aryan and the Semitic races. And finally, not only in this philological and prospec- tive sense, but in the true historical and religious sense, was this union of the East and the West, of remote Asia and of remote Europe, in the highest degree sig- nificant for the development of Israel. United then in Palestine, as they were united nowhere else in the ancient world, there was thus realized the first pos- sibility of their final amalgamation in Christendom. The horizon first framed in the time of Solomon, after being again and again contracted, has now even in out- ward form reached even beyond its old limits of Ophir and Tarshish, and much more in the combination of in- ward moral qualities which mark the Christian Religion. Christianity alone, of all Religions, is on the one hand Oriental by its birth, and yet capable of becoming Western by its spirit and its energy. "The kings of "Tarshish and the isles shall bring presents (from the "West; the kings of Sheba and Saba shall offer gifts "(from the East). For all kings shall fall down before "him; all nations shall serve him." So it was said al- ready in the days of Solomon; and in a still wider sense, and with a still more direct application to the gathering together of these diverse elements in the Messiah's reign, was the strain taken up by the later Prophet,——in language which, though entirely his own, could never have been suggested to him, except through the imagery of the Empire of Solomon. After an- nouncing how the treasures of the world were to come to Jerusalem,——"The abundance of the sea shall be "converted unto thee,"——he turns, on the one hand to the East:——"The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the "dromedaries of Midian and Ephah; all they from "Sheba shall come: they shall bring gold and incense. ". . . All the flocks of Kedar shall be gathered to "thee, the rams of Nebaioth shall minister unto thee; "they shall come up with acceptance upon mine altar;" and on the other hand, to the far West:——"Who are "these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their "windows? Surely the isles shall wait for me, and the "ships of Tarshish first, to bring their sons from far, their silver and gold with them. . . . And the sons "of strangers shall build up thy walls, and their kings "shall minister unto thee. . . . Therefore thy gates "shall be open continually; they shall not be shut day "nor night." This is the latitude of the Old Dispen- sation, containing in germ the still wider latitude of the New. II. From the external Empire of Solomon we pass to the internal state of his dominions. It has been already observed that the Hebrew people, unlike other ancient nations, did not place their golden age in a remote past, but rather in the remote future. But, so far as there was any historical period in which it seemed to be realized, it was under the administration of Solomon. The general tone of the records of his reign is that of jubilant delight, as though it were in- deed a golden day following on the iron and brazen age of the warlike David and his half-civilized predeces- sors. The heart of the poets of the age overflows with "the beautiful words" of loyal delight. The royal justice and benevolence are like the welcome showers in the thirsty East. The poor, for once, are cared for. The very tops of the bare mountains seem to wave with corn, as on the fertile slopes of Lebanon. And with this poetic description of the peace and plenty with which the rugged hills of Palestine were to smile, agrees the hardly less poetic description of the prose narrative. "Judah and Israel," both divisions of the people, now for the last time united in one, "were "many, as the sand which is by the sea in multitude; "eating ad drinking, and making merry. . . . Judah "and Israel dwelt safely, every man under his own "vine" (that is, the vine that clustered round his court) "and under his own fig-tree" (that is, the fig which grew in his garden), "from Dan even to Beersheba, all "the days of Solomon." The wealth which he inher- ited from David, and which he acquired from his own revenue, whether from commerce of from the royal domains, and from taxes and tributes, is described as enormous. So plentiful was gold that "silver was noth- "ing accounted of in the days of Solomon." And of a like strain is the joyous little hymn, ascribed to Solo- mon, which describes the increase, the vigor, the glory of te rising and ever-multiplying population,——the peaceful ease of all around, where "it is but lost labor to "rise up early, and sit down late, and eat the bread of "carefulness;' where blessings seemed to descend even on the unconscious sleeper,——where the children are shot to and fro as the most powerful of all weapons from the bows of irresistible archers. The very names of the two successors under whom the flourishing state was disordered, seem to bear witness to the abundance and brightness of the days when they were born and bred ——Rehoboam, "the widening of the people"——Jero- boam, "the multiplier of the people." For this altered state of things a new organization was neded. Although the offices of the court were gener- ally the same as those in David's time, the few changes that occur are significant of the advance in splendor and order. The great officers are now for the first time called by one general name——"Princes,"——a title which before had been almost confined to Joab. The union of priestly and secular functions still continued. Zabud, "the King's friend," is called a priest no less than Azariah, the son of Zadok. But on the other hand the name is not extended, as in David's court, to the royal family; thus perhaps indicating that the division of the two functions was gradually becoming percep- tible. Instead of the one scribe or secretary, there were now two, Elihoreph or Eliaph, and Ahijah, sons of the old scribe Shisha. The two "counsellors," who occupied so important a place by David, now disappear. Probably the counsellors were so increased in number as to form a separate body in the state, as in the next reign there was a band of aged advisers, known as "those who had stood before Solomon." The Prophets cease to figure amongst the dignitaries; as though the prophetical office had been overborne by the royal dig- nity. The Chief Priesthood, as we have see, was con- centrated in Zadok alone, and from him descended a pecu- liar hierarchy, known by the name of sons of Zadok, the possible origin (whether from their first ancestor's opinions, or from a traditionary adherence to the old Law) of the later sect of Sadduccees. The three military bodies seem to have remained unchanged. The commander of the "host" is the priestly warrior Benaiah, who succeeded the murdered Joab. The six hundred heroes of David's early life only once pass across the scene. Sixty of them, their swords as of old girt on their thighs, at- tended Solomon's litter, to guard him from banditti on his way to Lebanon. The guard appear only as house- hold troops, employed on state pageants, and appar- ently commanded by the officer now mentioned for the first time, at least in the full magnitude of his post. He was "over the household," in fact the vizier, and keeper of the royal treasury and armory. In subse- quent reigns he is described as wearing an official robe, girt about with an official girdle, ad carrying on his shoulder as a badge, like a sword of state, the gigantic key of the house of David. The office was held by Ahishar. In the Arabian legends it is given to the great musician, Asaph. The only two functionaries who retained their places from David's time were Jehoshaphat, the historiographer or recorder, and Adoram or Adoniram, the tax-col- lector. These were probably appointed when very young, at the time when David's reign was gradually settling into the peaceful arrangements of later times. The word which elsewhere is used for the garrisons planted in a hostile country, is now employed for "officers" appointed by the King of Israel over his own subjects. They were divided into two bodies, both alike, as it would seem, directed by a new dignitary, who also appears for the first time,——Azariah, son of the Prophet Nathan, "who was over the "officers." The lesser body consisted of twelve chiefs, in number corresponding to the twelve princes of the twelve tribes, who had administered the kingdom under David, and to the twelve surveyors of his pastures and herds. It is to the latter division that the twelve "officers" of Solomon corresponded, as they were arranged not according to the tribal divisions, as their sole func- tion was to furnish provisions for the royal household. Two of them were sons-in-law of the King. The larger body of "officers" were chosen from the Israelites, to control the taskwork exacted from the Canaanite population. The foreign populations within his dominion were, after the first ineffectual attempt at insurrection, completely cowed. The Hittite chiefs were allowed to keep up a kind of royal state, with horses and chariots; but the population generally was employed, like the aboriginal inhabitants of Greece, on public works, and was heavily taxed. Several impor- tant fortresses were created to keep them in check; one in the extreme north, in the old Canaanite capital of Hazor; a second in the Canaanite town of Megiddo, commanding the plain of Esdraelon; a third on the ruins of the Philistine city of Gaza, which had main- tained its independence longest of all; two in the villages of Bethhoron at the upper and lower ends of the pass of hat name, and one at Baalath or Kirjath- jearim. The three last-named forts commanded the approaches from Sharon and Philistia to Jerusalem. From the Canaanite bondmen were probably de- scended the degraded class, standing last in the list of those who returned from Babylon,—— "the children of "Solomon's slaves." They were apparently employed in the quarries, as those who appear next above them the Nethinim, were in the forests. The public works of Solomon were such as of them- selves to leave an impress of his age. Of his doubtful connection with Tadmor and Baalbec we have already spoken. But there is no question of those more imme- diately connected with his court an his residence. Jerusalem itself received a new life from his accession. It has even been conjectured that the name first became fixed through his influence; being, in its latter part, an echo, as it were, of his own—— "peace." When the Greeks gave their form to the name, they were guided by remembrance of his name. "Hierosolyma," in their estimate, was the "Hieron" or Temple of Solomon. In any case Jerusalem now assumed the dimensions and splendor of a capital. It became the centre of the commercial routes before mentioned, and Jewish tradition described the roads leading into Jerusalem, marked, as they ran over the white limestone of the country, by the black basaltic stones of their pavement. The city was enclosed with a new wall, which, as the reign advanced, the King increased in height and fortified with vast towers. The castle or city of David was fortified by an ancient, per- haps Jebusite, rampart, known by the name of "Millo," or the 'house of Millo," of which, possibly, remains still exist on the west of the Temple wall. The master of these works was Jeroboam, then quite a youth. Amongst these buildings, the Palace of Solomon was prominent. It was commenced at the same time as the Temple, but not finished till eight years afterwards. The occasion of its erection was the marriage of Solomon wit the Egyptian princess. She resided at first in the castle of David; but the king had still a scruple about the reception of a heathen, even though it were his own Queen, in precincts which had once been hallowed by the temporary sojourn of the Ark. The new Palace must have been apart from the castle of David, and considerably below the level of the Tem- ple-mount. It was built on massive substructions of enormous stones, carefully hewn, and was enclosed within a large court. It included several edifices within itself. The chief was a long hall, which, like the Temple, was encased in cedar; whence probably its name, "the House of the Forest of Lebanon." In front of it ran a pillared portico. Between this portico and the palace itself was a cedar porch,——sometimes called the Tower of David. In this tower, apparently hung over the walls outside, were a thousand golden shields, which gave the whole place the name of the Armory. With a splendor that outshone any like fortress, the tower with these golden targets glittered far off in the sunshine like the tall neck, as it was thought, of a beautiful bride, decked out in the manner of the East, with a string of golden coins. Five hundred of them were made by Solomon's orders for the royal guard, but the most interesting were the older five hundred, which David had carried off in his Syrian wars from the guard of Hadadezer, as trophies of arms and ornaments, in which the Syrians specially excelled. It was these which, being regarded as spoils won in a sacred cause, gave in all probability, occasion to the expression: "The shields of the earth belong unto God." This porch was the gem and centre of the hole Empire; it was so much thought of that a smaller likeness of it was erected in another part of the royal precinct of the Queen. Within the porch itself was to be seen the King in state. On a throne of ivory, brought from Africa or India, the throne of many an Arabian legend, the Kings of Judah were solemnly seated on the day of their accession. From its lofty seat, and under that high gateway, Solomon and his successors after him delivered their solemn judg- ments. That "porch" or "gate of justice" still kept alive the likeness of the old patriarchal custom of sitting in judgement at the gate; exactly as the Gate of Justice still recalls it to us at Granada, and the Sublime Porte ——"the Lofty Gate" at Constantinople. He sat on the back of a golden bull, its head turned over its shoulder, probably the ox or bull of Ephraim; under his feet, on each side of the steps, were six golden lions, probably the lions of Judah. This was "the seat of judgement." This was "the throne of the House of David." His banquets were of the most superb kind. All his plate and drinking-vessels were of gold; "none were of silver; it was nothing accounted of "in the days of Solomon." His household daily con- sumed thirty oxen, a hundred sheep, besides game of all kinds——"harts, roebucks, fallow-deer, and fatted fowl," probably for his own special table, from the Assyrian desert. There was a constant succession of guests. One class of them are expressly mentioned,——Chimham and his brothers. The train of his servants as such as had never been seen before. There were some who sat in his presence, others who always stood, others who were his cup-bearers, others musicians. His stables were on a most splendid scale. Up to this time, except in the extravagant ambition of Absalom and Adonijah, chariots and horses had been all but unknown in Palestine. In the earlier times, the ass had been the only animal used, even for princes. In David's time, the King and the Princes of the royal family rode on mules. But Solomon's inter- course with Egypt at once introduced horses into the domestic establishment, cavalry into the army. For the first time, the streets of Jerusalem heard the constant rattle of chariot wheels. Four thousand stalls were attached to the royal palace,——three horses for each chariot, and dromedaries for the attendants. The quan- tity of oats and of straw was so great that special officers were appointed to collect it. There was one chariot of extraordinary beauty, called the chariot of Pharaoh, in which the horses with their trappings were so graceful as to be compared to a bride, in her most magnificent ornaments. In the true style of an Asiatic sovereign, he estab- lished what his successors on the northern throne of Israel afterwards kept up at Samaria and Jezreel, but what he alone attempted in the wild hills of Judea——gardens and "parks (paradises), and "trees of all kinds of fruit, and reservoirs of water to "water the trees." One of these was probably in the neighborhood of Jerusalem, the spot afterwards known as the king's garden." at the junction of the valleys of Hinnon and the Kedron. Another was south of Bethlehem, probably that called by Josephus "Etham," a spot still marked by three gigantic reservoirs, which bear the name of the Pools of Solomon. A long cov- ered aqueduct, built by him, and restored by Pilate, still runs along the hill-side, and conveys water to the thirsty capital. The adjoining valley (the Wadi Urtâs) winds like a river, marked by its unusual verdure, amongst the rocky knolls of Judea. The huge square mountain which rises near it is probably the old Beth- hac-cerem ("House of the Vine"), so called from the vineyards which Solomon planted, as its modern Arabic name Fureidis, "the little Paradise," must be derived from the "paradise" (the very word used in the Book of Ecclesiastes and the Canticles) of the neighboring park. Thither, at early dawn, according to the Jewish tradition, he would drive out from Jerusalem in one of his numerous chariots, drawn by horses of uparalleled swiftness and beauty, himself clothed in white, followed by a train of mounted archers, all splendid youths, of magnificent stature, dressed in purple, their long black hair flowing behind them, powdered with gold dust, which glittered in the sun, as they galloped along after their master. A third resort was far away in the north. On the heights of Hermon, beyond the limits of Palestine, look- ing over the plain of Damascus, in the vale of Baalbec, in the vineyards of Baal-hamon, were cool retreats from the summer heat. Thither, with pavilions of which the splendor contrasted with the black tents of the neigh- boring Arabs, Solomon retired. From Solomon's possessions on the northern heights, "from Lebanon, the smell of Lebanon, the streams of "Lebanon, the tower of Lebanon looking towards "Damascus;" from the top of Amana, from the top "of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the "leopards' dens," on those wild rocks; from the fra- grance of "those mountains of myrrh, those hills of "frankincense;" the roes and the young harts on the mountains of spices," the spectator looks out over the desert plain; a magnificent cavalcade approaches amidst the cloud of incense,——then, as now, burnt to greet the approach of a mighty prince. "Who is this "that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of "smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with "all poweders of the merchant? Behold his litter: it "is Solomon's. . . . King Solomon hath made himself "a palanquin of the wood of Lebanon. He made the "pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, "the covering of it of purple; the centre of it is "wrought with beautiful work by the daughters of "Jerusalem. Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and "behold King Solomon." In the midst of this gorgeous array was the Sov- ereign himself. The King is fair, with superhuman beauty——his sword is on his thigh——he rides in his chariot, or on his warhorse; his archers are behind him, his guards are round him; his throne is like the throne of God; his sceptre is in his hand. He wears a crown, which, as still in Eastern marriages, his mother placed upon his head in the day of his espousals; he is radiant as if with the oil and essence of gladness; his robes are so scented with the perfumes of India and Arabia that they seem to be noth- ing but a mass of myrrh, aloes, and cassia; out of his palaces comes a burst of joyous music, of men-singers and women-singers, the delights of the sons of men, musical instruments of all sorts. The Queen, probably from Egypt, the chief of all his vast establishment of wives and concubines, themselves the daughters of kings, was by his side, glittering in the gold of Ophir; one blaze of glory, as she sat by him in the interior of the palace; the gifts of the princely state of Tyre are waiting to wel- come her; her attendants gorgeously arrayed are behind her; she has left her father and her father's house; her reward is to be in the greatness of her descendants. Such is the splendor of Solomon's court, which, even down to the outward texture of their royal robes, lived in the traditions of Israel. When Christ bade His disciples look on the bright scarlet and gold of the spring flowers of Palestine, which "toil not, neither do "they spin," He carried back their thoughts to the great King, "Solomon," who, "in all his glory was not "arrayed like one of these." He had no mightier com- parison to use; He Himself——we may be allowed to say so, for we feel it as we read His word——was moved by the recollection to the same thrill of emotion which the glory of Solomon still awakens in us. 
from The History of the Jewish Church, Vol. II: From Samuel to the Captivity, by Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D. D., Dean of Westminster Charles Scribner's Sons, 1879; pp. 202 - 221
XXVII—The Temple of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXVIII—The Wisdom of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXIX—The House of Jeroboam—Ahijah and Iddo [i.] [ii.] XXX—The House of Omri—Elijah [i.] [ii.] XXXI—The House of Omri—Elisha [i.] XXXII—The House of Omri—Jehu [i.] XXXIII—The House of Jehu—The Syrian Wars, and the Prophet Jonah [i.] XXXIV—The Fall of Samaria [i.] XXXV—The First Kings of Judah [i.] [ii.] XXXVI—The Jewish Priesthood [i.] [ii.] XXXVII—The Age of Uzziah [i.] [ii.] XXXVIII—Hezekiah [i.] [ii.] XXXIX—Manasseh and Josiah [i.] [ii.]
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new york yankee has been created

By Charles Dickens THE DETECTIVE POLICE. (ii.) This reminiscence is in the height of its success, when a general proposal is made to the fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with the strange air of simplicity, to tell the "Butcher's Story." The fresh-complexioned, smooth-faced officer, with the strange air of simplicity, began, with a rustic smile, and in a soft, wheedling tone of voice, to relate the Butcher's Story, thus: "It's just about six years ago, now, since information was given at Scotland Yard of there being extensive robberies of lawns and silks going on, at some wholesale houses in the City. Directions were given for the busi- ness being looked into, and Straw, and Fendall, and me, we were all in it." "When you received your instructions," said we, 'you went away, and held a sort of Cabinet Council together!" The smooth-faced officer coaxingly replied, "Ye-es. Just so. We turned it over among ourselves a good deal. It appeared, when we went into it, that the goods were sold by the receivers extraordinarily cheap — much cheaper than they could have been if they had been honestly come by. The receivers were in the trade, and kept capital shops——establishments of the first respecta- bility——one of 'em at the West End, one down in West- minster. After a lot of watching and inquiry, and this and that among ourselves, we found that the job was managed, and the purchases of the stolen goods made, at a little public-house near Smithfield, down by St. Bartholomew's; where the Warehouse Porters, who were the thieves, took 'em for that purpose, don't you see? and made appointments to meet the people who went between themselves and the receivers. Thus pub- lic-house was principally used by journeymen butchers from the country, out of place, and in want of situations; so, what did we do, but——ha, ha, ha!——we agreed that I should be dressed up like a butcher myself, and go and live there!" Never, surely, was a faculty of observation better brought to bear upon a purpose, than that which picked out this officer for the part. Nothing in all creation, could have suited him better. Even while he spoke, he became a greasy, sleepy, shy, good-natured, chuckle- headed, unsuspicious, and confiding young butcher. His very hair seemed to have suet in it, as he made it smooth upon his head, and his fresh complexion to be lubricated by large quantities of animal food. ——"So I——ha, ha, ha!" (always with the confiding snigger of the foolish young butcher) "so I dressed my- self in the regular way, made up a little bundle of clothes, and went to the public-house, and asked if I could have a lodging there? They says, 'Yes, you can have a lodging here,' and I got a bedroom, and settled myself down in the tap. There was a number of people about the place, and coming backwards and forwards to the house; and first one says, and then another says, 'Are you from the country, young man!' 'Yes,' I says, 'I am. I came out of Northamptonshire, and I'm quite lonely here, for I don't know London at all, and it's such a mighty big town!" 'It's a big town,' they says. 'Oh, it's a very big town!' I says. 'Really and truly I never was in such a town. It quite confuses me!'——and all that, you know. "When some of the Journeymen Butchers that used the house, found that I wanted a place, they says, 'Oh, we'll get you a place!' And they actually took me to a sight of places, in Newgate Market, Clare, Carnaby——I don't know where all. But the wages was——ha, ha, ha! ——was not sufficient, and I never could suit myself, don't you see? Some of the queer frequenters of the house, were a little suspicious of me at first, and I was obliged to be very cautious indeed, how I communicated with Straw or Fendall. Sometimes, when I went out, pre- tending to stop and look into the shop-windows, and just casting my eye round, I used to see some of 'em follow- ing me; but being perhaps better accustomed than they thought for, to that sort of thing, I used to lead 'em on as far as I thought necessary or convenient——sometimes a long way——and then turn sharp round, and meet 'em, and say, 'Oh, dear, how glad I am to come upon you so fortunate! This London's such a place, I'm blowed if I ain't lost again!' And then we'd go back altogether, to the public-house, and——ha, ha, ha!——and smoke our pipes don't you see? "They were very attentive to me, I am sure. It was a common thing, while I was living there, for some of 'em to take me out, and show me London. They showed me the Prisons——showed me Newgate——and when they showed me Newgate, I stops at the place where the Por- ters pitch their loads, and says, 'Oh, dear, is this where they hang the men! Oh Lor!' 'That!' they says, 'what a simple cove he is! That an't it!' And then, they pointed out which was it, and I says 'Lor!' and they says, 'Now you'll know it agen, won't you?' And I said I thought I should if I tried hard——and I assure you I kept a sharp look out for the City Police when we were out in this way, and if any of 'em happened to know me, and had spoken to me, it would have been all up in a minute. However, by good luck, such a thing never happened, and all went on quiet: though the difficulties I had in communicating with my brother officers were quite extraordinary. "The stolen goods that were brought to the public- house by the Warehouse Porters, were always disposed of in a back parlor. For a long time I never could get into this parlor, or see what was done there. As I sat smoking my pipe, like an innocent young chap, by the tap-room fire, I'd hear some of the parties to the robbery, as they came in and out, say softly to the landlord, 'Who's that? What does he do here?' 'Bless your soul,' says the landlord, 'He's only a'——ha, ha, ha!—— 'he's only a green young fellow from the country, as is looking for a butcher's sitiwation. Don't mind him!" So, in course of time, they were so convinced of my be- ing green, and got to be so accustomed to me, that I was as free of the parlor as any of 'em, and I have seen as much as Seventy Pounds worth of fine lawn sold there, in one night, that was stolen from a warehouse on Friday Street. After the sale the buyers always stood treat—— hot supper, or dinner, or what not——and they'd say on those occasions, 'Come on, Butcher! Put your best leg foremost, young 'un, and walk into it!' Which I used to do——and hear, at table, all manner of particulars that it was very important for us Detectives to know. "This went on for ten weeks. I lived in the public- house all this time, and never was out of the Butcher's dress——except in bed. At last, when I had followed sev- en of the thieves, and set 'em to rights——that's an expres- sion of ours, don't you see, by which I mean to say that I traced 'em, and found out where the robberies were done, and all about 'em——Straw, and Fendall, and I, gave one another the office, and at a time agreed upon, a de- scent was made upon the public house, and the appre- hension effected. One of the first things the officers did, was to collar me——for the parties to the robbery weren't to suppose yet, that I was anything but a Butcher——on which the landlord cries out, 'Don't take him,' he says, 'whatever you do! He's only a poor young chap from the country, and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth!' However, they——ha, ha, ha!——they took me, and pretend- ed to search my bedroom, where nothing was found but an old fiddle belonging to the landlord, that had got there somehow or other. But, it entirely changed the land- lord's opinion, for when it was produced, he says 'My fiddle! The Butcher's a pur-loiner! I give him into custody for the robbery of a musical instrument!' "The man that had stolen the goods in Friday Street was not taken yet. He had told me, in confidence, that he had his suspicions there was something wrong (on ac- count of the City Police having captured one of the par- ty), and that he was going to make himself scarce. I asked him, 'Where do you mean to go, Mr. Shepherd- son?' 'Why, Butcher,' says he, 'the Setting Moon, in the Commercial Road, is a snug house, and I shall hang out there for a time. I shall call myself Simpson, which appears to me to be a modest sort of a name. Perhaps you'll give us a look in, Butcher?' 'Well,' says I, 'I think I will give you a call'——which I fully intended, don't you see, because, of course, he was to be taken! I went over to the Setting Moon next day, with a brother officer, and asked at the bar for Simpson. They pointed out his room, up-stairs. As we were going up, he looks down over the banisters, and calls out, 'Halloa, Butcher! is that you?' 'Yes, it's me. How do you find yourself?' 'Bobbish,' he says; 'but who's that with you?' 'It's only a young man, that's a friend of mine,' I says. 'Come along, then,' says he; 'any friend of the Butch- er's is as welcome as the Butcher!' So, I made my friend acquainted with him, and we took him into cus- tody. "You have no idea, sir, what a sight it was, in Court, when they first knew that I wasn't a Butcher, after all! I wasn't produced at the first examination, when there was a remand; but I was at the second. And when I stepped into the box, in full police uniform, and the whole party saw how they had been done, actually a groan of horror and dismay proceeded from 'em in the dock! "At the Old Bailey, when their trials came on, Mr. Clarkson was engaged for the defence, and he couldn't make out how it was, about the Butcher. He thought, all along, it was a real Butcher. When the counsel for the prosecution said, 'I will now call before you, gentle- man, the Police-officer,' meaning myself, Mr. Clarkson says, 'Why Police-officer? Why more Police-officers? I don't want Police. We have had a great deal too much of the Police. I want the Butcher! However, sir, he had the Butcher and the Police-officer, both in one. Out of seven prisoners committed for trial, five were found guilty, and some of 'em were transported. The respect- able firm at the West End got a term of imprisonment; and that's the Butcher's Story?" The story done, the chuckle-headed Butcher again re- solved himself into the smooth-faced Detective. But, he was so extremely ticked by their having taken him about, when he was a Dragon in disguise, to show him London, that he could not help reverting to that point in his narrative; and gently repeating with the Butcher snigger,"'Oh, dear,' I says, 'is that where they hang the men? Oh, Lor!' 'That! says they. 'What a simple cove he is!'" It being now late, and the party very modest in their fear of being too diffuse, there were some tokens of sep- aration, which Sergeant Dornton, the soldierly-looking man, said, looking round him with a smile: "Before we break up, sir, perhaps you might have some amusement in hearing of the Adventures of a Car- pet Bag. They are very short; and, I think, curious." We welcomed the Carpet Bag, as cordially as Mr. Shepherdson welcomed the false Butcher at the Setting Moon. Sergeant Dornton proceeded. "In 1847, I was dispatched to Chatham, in search of one Mesheck, a Jew. He had been carrying on, pretty heavily, in the bill-stealing way, getting acceptances from young men of good connections (in the army chiefly), on pretence of discount, and bolting with the same. "Mesheck was off, before I got to Chatham. All I could learn about him was, that he had gone, probably to London, and had with him——a Carpet Bag. "I came back to town, by the last train from Black- wall, and made inquiries concerning a Jew passenger with——a Carpet Bag. "The office was shut up, it being the last train. There were only two or three porters left. Looking after a Jew with a Carpet Bag, on the Blackwall Railway, which was then the high road to a great Military Depôt, was worse than looking after a needle in a haystack. But it happened that one of these porters had carried, for a certain Jew, to a certain public-house, a certain——Carpet Bag. "I went to the public-house, but the Jew had only left his luggage there for a few hours, and had called for it in a cab, and taken it away. I put such questions there, and to the porter, as I thought prudent, and got at this description of——the Carpet Bag. "It was a bag which had, on one side of it, worked in worsted, a green parrot on a stand was the means by which to identify that——Carpet Bag. "I traced Mesheck, by means of his green parrot on a stand, to Cheltenham, to Birmingham, to Liverpool, to the Atlantic Ocean. At Liverpool he was too many for me. He had gone to the United States, and I gave up all thoughts of Mesheck, and likewise of his——Carpet Bag. "Many months afterwards——near a year afterwards—— there was a bank in Ireland robbed of seven thousand pounds, by a person of the name of Doctor Dundey, who escaped to America; from which country some of the stolen notes came home. He was supposed to have bought a farm in New Jersey. Under proper manage- ment, that estate could be seized and sold, for the ben- efit of the parties he had defrauded. I was sent off to America for this purpose. "I landed at Boston. I went on to New York. I found that he had lately changed New York paper-money for New Jersey paper-money, and had banked cash in New Brunswick. To take this Doctor Dundey, it was neces- sary to entrap him into the State of New York, which required a deal of artifice and trouble. At one time, he couldn't be drawn into an appointment. At another time, he appointed to come and meet me, and a New York officer, on the pretext I made; and then his children had the measles. At last he came, per steamboat, and I took him, and lodged him in a New York prison called the Tombs; which I dare say you know, sir?" Editorial acknowledgement to that effect. "I went to the Tombs, on the morning after his cap- ture, to attend the examination before the magistrate. I was passing through the magistrate's private room, when, happening to look round me to take notice of the place, as we generally have a habit of doing, I clapped my eyes in one corner on a——Carpet Bag. "What did I see on that Carpet Bag, if you'll believe me, but a green parrot on a stand, as large as life! "'That Carpet Bag, with the representation of a green parrot on a stand,' said I, 'belongs to an English Jew, named Aaron Mesheck, and to no other man, alive or dead!' "I give you my word the New York Police officers were doubled up with surprise. "'How do you ever come to know that?' said they. "'I think I ought to know that green parrot by this time,' said I; 'for I have had as pretty a dance after that bird, at home, as ever I had in all my life!"' "And was it Mesheck's?" we submissively inquired. "Was it, sir? Of course it was! He was in custody for another offence, in that very identical Tombs, at that identical time. And, more than that! Some memoranda, relating to the fraud for which I had vainly endeavored to take him, were found to be, at that moment, lying in that very same individual——Carpet Bag!" Such are the curious coincidences and such is the pecu- liar ability, always sharpening and being improved by practice, and always adapting itself to every variety of circumstances, and opposing itself to every new device that perverted ingenuity can invent, for which this im- portant social branch of the public service is remark- able! For ever on the watch, with their wits stretched to the utmost, these officers have, from day to day and year to year, to set themselves against every novelty of trickery and dexterity that the combined imaginations of all the lawless rascals in England can devise, and to keep pace with every such invention that comes out. In the Courts of Justice, the materials of thousands of such stories as we have narrated——often elevated into the marvellous and romantic, by the circumstances of the case——are dryly compressed into the set phrase, "In con- sequence of information I received, I did so and so." Suspicion was to be directed, by careful inference and deduction, upon the right person; the right person was to be taken, wherever he had gone, or whatever he was doing to avoid detection: he is taken ; there he is at the bar; that is enough. From information I, the officer, received, I did it; and according to the custom in these cases, I say no more. These games of chess, played with live pieces are played before small audiences, and are chronicled no- where. The interest of the game supports the player. Its results are enough for Justice. To compare great things with small, suppose LEVERRIER or ADAMS inform- ing the public that from information he had received he had discovered a new planet; or COLUMBUS informing the public of his day that from information he had re- ceived he had discovered a new continent; so the Detec- tives inform it that they have discovered a new fraud or an offender, and the process is unknown. Thus at midnight, closed the proceedings of our cur- ious and interesting party. But one other circumstance finally wound up the evening after our Detective guests had left us. One of the Sharpest among them, and the officer best acquainted with the Swell Mob, had his poc- ket picked, going home! 
from Collier's Unabridged Edition: The Works of Charles Dickens, Volume VI. P.F. Collier, Publisher, New York, old as heck. p. 1068 - 1070.
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History of the Jewish Church, vol. I — Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D.D.
[Preface] [Introduction] I : The Call of Abraham [i.] [ii.] II : Abraham and Isaac [i.] [ii.] III : Jacob [i.] [ii.] IV : Israel in Egypt [i.] [ii.] V : The Exodus [i.] [ii.] VI : The Wilderness [i.] VII : Sinai and the Law [i.] [ii.] VIII : Kadesh and Pisgah [i.] [ii.] IX : The Conquest of Palestine [i.] X : The Conquest of Western Palestine—The Fall of Jericho [i.] XI : The Conquest of Western Palestine—Battle of Beth-horon [i.] XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [i.] XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [ii.] XIII : Israel Under the Judges [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XIV : Deborah [i.] [ii.] XV : Gideon [i.] [ii.] XVI : Jephthah and Samson [i.] [ii.] XVII : The Fall of Shiloh [i.] XVIII : Samuel and the Prophetical Office [i.] [ii.] XIX : The History of the Prophetical Order [i.] [ii.] XX : On the Nature of the Prophetical Teachings [i.] [ii.] Appendix I : The Traditional Localities of Abraham's Migration [i] Appendix II : The Cave at Machpelah [i.] [ii.] Appendix III : The Samaritan Passover [i.]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. II
[Preface] XXI : The House of Saul [i.] [ii.] XXII : The Youth of David [i.] [ii.] XXIII : The Reign of David [i.] [ii.] XXIV : The Fall of David [i.] [ii.] XXV : The Psalter of David [i.] [ii.] XXVI : The Empire of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXVII : The Temple of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXVIII : The Wisdom of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXIX : The House of Jeroboam—Ahijah and Iddo [i.] [ii.] XXX : The House of Omri—Elijah [i.] [ii.] XXXI : The House of Omri—Elisha [i.] XXXII : The House of Omri—Jehu [i.] XXXIII : The House of Jehu—The Syrian Wars, and the Prophet Jonah [i.] XXXIV : The Fall of Samaria [i.] XXXV : The First Kings of Judah [i.] [ii.] XXXVI : The Jewish Priesthood [i.] [ii.] XXXVII : The Age of Uzziah [i.] [ii.] XXXVIII : Hezekiah [i.] [ii.] XXXIX : Manasseh and Josiah [i.] [ii.] XL : Jeremiah and the Fall of Jerusalem [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] [Notes, Volume II]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. III
[Preface] XLI : The Babylonian Captivity [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLII : The Fall of Babylon [i.] [ii.] XLIII : Persian Dominon—The Return [i.] [ii.] XLIV : Ezra and Nehemiah [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLV : Malachi [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLVI : Socrates [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLVII : Alexandria [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLVIII : Judas Maccabæus [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] XLIX : The Asmonean Dynasty [i.] [ii.] [iii.] L : Herod [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] [v.]
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(i.) (ii.) (iii.)
engvall p. o. box 128 williamstown, ma 01267
Preface. Les Trois Ours. Les Quatres Saisons. La Rose Mousseuse. Les Trois Souhaits. Le Chat et le Renard. Blanche-Neige. Les Trois Citrons. La Ville Submergée. Le Poisson d'Or. La Cabane au Toit de Fromage. Le Vrai Heritier. Yvon et Finette. Le Renard et le Loup. La Mauvaise Femme. Baba-Iaga. Le Nez. L'Hospitalité du Pacha. Les Deux Frères. Le Berger et le Dragon. Les Deux Aumones. L'Amore d'Une Mère. Le Cheveu Merveilleux. Un Conte de ma Mère l'Oie. Godefroi, le Petit Ermite. Le Grain de Moutarde. Vocabulary. (a - l) Vocabulary. (m - z)
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9/11 commission report has been created

By Arthur G. Staples ON "COBWEBS" SOMEWHERE in one of Lord Dunsany's books is a chapter about the end of the world——all cobwebs. The industrious spider, working on and on, prolific, not easily exterminated, springing from corruption, weaving in fes- toons the final shroud of life. I have not read the book for several years. But it is one of those impressions we get from unique pictures and I have ever since seem some last inhabitant of a dying world, if such there might ever be, going into the house of the cobwebs, past the seven veils, to bury himself in their silences. You forget anything and leave it alone for a time and the spider is sure to invade it and spin his webs. The spider is the only thing that spins from his own entrails and gets good results. Man must have a mate- rial on which to build. He is helpless to create except with materials. The spider is the shroud builder of earth, the last to work; so he MUST carry his materials with him. So, we have to be careful and not permit any of our useful possessions or equipment to be neglected. Na- ture is remorseless. It takes toll of idleness. If you leave your sharp axe out of doors, the spider of time dulls its edge with rust. If you leave your farm tools out of doors to the weather, the rust ruins them. Leave a building for a year or so and the doors be- gin to fall from the hinges, the window panes become mysteriously broken; the blinds begin to sag; the bricks in the chimneys begin to fall and the chimney itself to lean to the north. Earth marks with ruin its decay. Use is the only antidote for cobwebs. Laissez faire is only a synonym for ruin. This applies to our minds and bodies and our spir- itual existence as well as it applies to our belongings, our farm-tools, our abandoned farm buildings, the deso- late churches in the country, the lonely cabin in the woods. Someone asks me why Rotary was started and I tell them that one good reason was that it keeps the cob- webs out of the garden of neighborliness. A person asked me why Rotary was confined to one representa- tive only of any given business in a community and I could not tell him any more than I could tell him why humanity was divided into families. But I could have told him why Rotary was started at all. It was started because we must keep the cobwebs off of our humanities; because we must keep at work at the Golden Rule; because we must express happiness in terms of friendliness. Otherwise spiders come! Otherwise they will spin about our souls dusty and stifling webs of death. Oth- erwise they will seal up the doors and windows f our lives. Otherwise they will make us repelling to en- trance of sun and the soft, sweet winds of heaven. It is use that works wonders to keep doors open; windows washed; floors scrubbed; pans bright along the walls; smoke coming from the chimneys; lights in the window for wayfarers across the dark moors, maybe snow-piled or swept by driving rains. It is work and use that keep the axe bright and the farm tools easy-running and the scythe keen in the grass and the stubble. You can't leave your posses- sions out in the field and expect them to be comforts to you. I know a hotel in America where there are twenty or thirty rich men who sit about the winter fires and are perfectly miserable. They have a round of hotels, that they yearly inhabit. They do nothing else and never did and never will. They are so unhappy. Nothing is bright. All is dull. The cobwebs are there. The spider spins. The dust gathers, there is no light out of their windows. Friends! The call is not for leisure except in the serene old age after the work has been done and the journey near the end. The call is for the brisk work in the kitchen and the courts of life, for the brush and broom against the accumulation of inertia; for the creation of something out of the daily toil that tends to brighten the light of the window, for the wayfarer. Pure leisure and doing nothing are but hastening the coming of the spiders that spin the shroud of death. The human soul needs watching. Despair never comes where the sun shines in upon the clean floor of the mind and soul through windows where there are no spiders' webs. 
from Jack in the Pulpit, by Arthur G. Staples Copyright, 1921, A. G. Staples Lewiston Journal Company, Lewiston, Maine; pp. 285—287.
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(i.) (ii.) (iii.)
Make America make sense again, lest I cease to exist. Even in the absence of functional institutions of journalism and government, a responsive Executive Branch could bring the 9/11 terror system to heel. Please consider writing in a vote for MARLEY ENGVALL, for President of the United States of America.
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History of the Jewish Church, vol. I — Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D.D.
[Preface] [Introduction] I : The Call of Abraham [i.] [ii.] II : Abraham and Isaac [i.] [ii.] III : Jacob [i.] [ii.] IV : Israel in Egypt [i.] [ii.] V : The Exodus [i.] [ii.] VI : The Wilderness [i.] VII : Sinai and the Law [i.] [ii.] VIII : Kadesh and Pisgah [i.] [ii.] IX : The Conquest of Palestine [i.] X : The Conquest of Western Palestine—The Fall of Jericho [i.] XI : The Conquest of Western Palestine—Battle of Beth-horon [i.] XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [i.] XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [ii.] XIII : Israel Under the Judges [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XIV : Deborah [i.] [ii.] XV : Gideon [i.] [ii.] XVI : Jephthah and Samson [i.] [ii.] XVII : The Fall of Shiloh [i.] XVIII : Samuel and the Prophetical Office [i.] [ii.] XIX : The History of the Prophetical Order [i.] [ii.] XX : On the Nature of the Prophetical Teachings [i.] [ii.] Appendix I : The Traditional Localities of Abraham's Migration [i] Appendix II : The Cave at Machpelah [i.] [ii.] Appendix III : The Samaritan Passover [i.]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. II
[Preface] XXI : The House of Saul [i.] [ii.] XXII : The Youth of David [i.] [ii.] XXIII : The Reign of David [i.] [ii.] XXIV : The Fall of David [i.] [ii.] XXV : The Psalter of David [i.] [ii.] XXVI : The Empire of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXVII : The Temple of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXVIII : The Wisdom of Solomon [i.] [ii.] XXIX : The House of Jeroboam—Ahijah and Iddo [i.] [ii.] XXX : The House of Omri—Elijah [i.] [ii.] XXXI : The House of Omri—Elisha [i.] XXXII : The House of Omri—Jehu [i.] XXXIII : The House of Jehu—The Syrian Wars, and the Prophet Jonah [i.] XXXIV : The Fall of Samaria [i.] XXXV : The First Kings of Judah [i.] [ii.] XXXVI : The Jewish Priesthood [i.] [ii.] XXXVII : The Age of Uzziah [i.] [ii.] XXXVIII : Hezekiah [i.] [ii.] XXXIX : Manasseh and Josiah [i.] [ii.] XL : Jeremiah and the Fall of Jerusalem [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] [Notes, Volume II]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. III
[Preface] XLI : The Babylonian Captivity [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLII : The Fall of Babylon [i.] [ii.] XLIII : Persian Dominon—The Return [i.] [ii.] XLIV : Ezra and Nehemiah [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLV : Malachi [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLVI : Socrates [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLVII : Alexandria [i.] [ii.] [iii.] XLVIII : Judas Maccabæus [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] XLIX : The Asmonean Dynasty [i.] [ii.] [iii.] L : Herod [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] [v.]
(i.) (ii.) (iii.)
https://www.paypal.com/pools/c/8lVTi6EIcF [anything helps. no amount too small. eternal thanks.]
Professor Pileni's Resignation as Editor-in-Chief of the Open Chemical Physics Journal: an open letter from Dr. Niels Harrit
After the paper entitled "Active Thermitic Material Discovered in Dust from the 9/11 World Trade Center Catastrophe," which I along with eight colleagues co-authored, was published in the Open Chemical Physics Journal, its editor-in-chief, Professor Marie-Paule Pileni, abruptly resigned. It has been suggested that this resignation casts doubt on the scientific soundness of our paper.
However, Professor Pileni did the only thing she could do, if she wanted to save her career. After resigning, she did not criticize our paper. Rather, she said that she could not read and evaluate it, because, she claimed, it lies outside the areas of her expertise.
But that is not true, as shown by information contained on her own website. Her List of Publications reveals that Professor Pileni has published hundreds of articles in the field of nanoscience and nanotechnology. She is, in fact, recognized as one of the leaders in the field. Her statement about her "major advanced research" points out that, already by 2003, she was "the 25th highest cited scientist on nanotechnology".
Since the late 1980s, moreover, she has served as a consultant for the French Army and other military institutions. From 1990 to 1994, for example, she served as a consultant for the Société Nationale des Poudres et Explosifs (National Society for Powders and Explosives).
She could, therefore, have easily read our paper, and she surely did. But by denying that she had read it, she avoided the question that would have inevitably been put to her: "What do you think of it?"
Faced with that question, she would have had two options. She could have criticized it, but that would have been difficult without inventing some artificial criticism, which she as a good scientist with an excellent reputation surely would not have wanted to do. The only other option would have been to acknowledge the soundness of our work and its conclusions. But this would have threatened her career.
Professor Pileni's resignation from the journal provides an insight into the conditions for free speech at our universities and other academic institutions in the aftermath of 9/11. This situation is a mirror of western society as a whole---even though our academic institutions should be havens in which research is evaluated by its intrinsic excellence, not its political correctness.
In Professor Pileni's country, France, the drive to curb the civil rights of professors at the universities is especially strong, and the fight is fierce.
I will conclude with two points. First, the cause of 9/11 truth is not one that she has taken up, and the course of action she chose was what she had to do to save her career. I harbor no ill feelings toward Professor Pileni for the choice she made.
Second, her resignation from the journal because of the publication of our paper implied nothing negative about the paper.
Indeed, the very fact that she offered no criticisms of it provided, implicitly, a positive evaluation--- an acknowledgment that its methodology and conclusions could not credibly be challenged.
(Reprinted from 911blogger.com)
South Tower Molten Metal & Collapse
May 2011 BBC Interview with Dr. Niels Harrit
Hypothesis -- Steven E. Jones
NIST engineer John Gross denies WTC molten steel
9/11 Mysteries: Demolitions [molten metal]
WTC7 in Freefall: No Longer Controversial
Quit crying. The propaganda machine is broken beyond repair. You need to tell the truth.
I. His General Line of Business. II. The Shipwreck. III. Wapping Workhouse. IV. Two Views of a Cheap Theatre. V. Poor Mercantile Jack. VI. Refreshments for Travellers. VII. Travelling Abroad. VIII. The Great Tasmania's Cargo IX. City of London Churches. X. Shy Neighbourhoods. XI. Tramps. XII. Dullborough Town. XIII. Night Walks. XIV. Chambers. XV. Nurse's Stories. XVI. Arcadian London. XVII. The Calais Night-mail. XVIII. Some Recollections of Mortality. XIX. Birthday Celebrations. XX. Bound for the Great Salt Lake. XXI. The City of the Absent. XXII. An Old Stage-Coaching Horse. XXIII. The Boiled Beef of New England. XXIV. Chatham Dock-Yard. XXV. In the French-Flemish Country. XXVI. Medicine-Men of Civilization. XXVII. Titbull's Almshouses. XXVIII. The Italian Prisoner.
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Introduction. Foreword. I. I Begin a Pilgrimage. (i.) II. En Route. (i.) III. A Pilgrim's Progress. (i.) (ii.) IV. Le Nouveau. (i.) (ii.) (iii.) V. A Group of Portraits. (i.) (ii.) VI. Apollyon. (i.) (ii.) VII. An Approach to the Delectable Mountains. (i.) (ii.) (iii.) VIII. The Wanderer. (i.) IX. Zoo-Loo. (i.) (ii.) X. Surplice. (i.) XI. Jean le Negre. (i.) (ii.) XII. Three Wise Men (i.) XIII. I Say Good-Bye to la Misère (i.)
Introduction The Gift of the Magi — O. Henry (i.) A Reward of Merit — Booth Tarkington (i.) (ii.) "American, Sir!" — Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews (i.) John G. — Katherine Mayo (i.) Friends — Myra Kelly (i.) A Camping Trip — Hamlin Garland (i.) A Thread Without a Knot — Dorothy Canfield Fisher (i.) (ii.) Chu Chu — Francis Bret Harte (i.) (ii) Feathertop: A Moralized Legend — Nathaniel Hawthorne (i.) (ii.) The Red-Headed League — Arthur Conan Doyle (i.) (ii.) The Inconsiderate Waiter — James Matthew Barrie (i.) (ii.) The Siege of Berlin — Alphonse Daudet (i.) The Silver Mine — Selma Lagerlöf (i.)
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By John Lord, LL. D. IGNATIUS LOYOLA. A. D, 1491—1556. RISE AND INFLUENCE OF THE JESUITS. (i.) NEXT to the Protestant Reformation itself, the most memorable moral movement in the history of modern times was the counter-reformation in the Roman Catholic Church, finally effected, in no slight degree, by the Jesuits. But it has not the grandeur or historical significance of the great insurrection of human intelligence which was headed by Luther. It was a revival of the pietism of the Middle Ages, with an external reform of manners. It was not revolution- ary; it did not cast off the authority of the popes, nor disband the monasteries, nor reform religious worship: it rather tended to strengthen the power of the popes, to revive monastic life, and to perpetuate the forms of worship which the Middle Ages had established. No doubt a new religious life was kindled, and many of the flagrant abuses of the papal empire were redressed, and the lives of the clergy made more decent, in ac- cordance with the revival of intelligence. Nor did it disdain literature or art, or any form of modern civili- zation, but sought to combine progress with old ideas; it was an effort to adapt the Roman theocracy to changing circumstances, and was marked by expedi- ency rather than right, by zeal rather than a profound philosophy. This movement took place among the Latin races,—— the Italians, French, and Spaniard,——having no hold on the Teutonic races except in Austria, as much Sla- vonic as German. It worked on a poor material, mor- ally considered; among peoples who have not been distinguished for stamina of character, earnestness, contemplative habits, and moral elevation,——peoples long enslaved, frivolous in their pleasures, superstitious, indolent, fond of fêtes, spectacles, pictures, and Pagan reminiscences. The doctrine of justification by faith was not un- known, even in Italy. It was embraced by many dis- tinguished men. Contarini, an illustrious Venetian, wrote a treatise on it, which Cardinal Pole admired. Folengo ascribed justification to grace alone; and Vit- toria Colonna, the friend of Michael Angelo, took a deep interest in these theological inquiries. But the doctrine did not spread; it was not understood by the people,——it was a speculation among scholars and doc- tors, which gave no alarm to the Pope. There was even an attempt at internal reform under Paul III. of the illustrious family of the Farnese, successor of Leo X. and Clement VII., the two renowned Medicean popes. He made cardinals of Contarini, Caraffa, Sado- leto, Pole, Giberto,——all imbued with reformative doctrines, and very religious; and these good men pre- pared a plan of reform and submitted it to the Pope, which ended, however, only in new monastic orders. It was the that Ignatius Loyola appeared upon the stage, when Luther was in the midst of his victories, and when new ideas were shaking the pontifical throne. The desponding successor of the Gregorys and the Clements knew not where to look for aid in that crisis of peril and revolution. The monastic orders composed his regular army, but they had become so corrupted that they had lost the reverence of the people. The venerable Benedictines had ceased to be men of prayer and contemplation as in the times of Bernard and Anselm, and were revelling in their enormous wealth. The cloisters of Cluniacs and Cistercians——branches of the Benedictines——were filled with idle and dissolute monks. The famous Dominicans and Franciscans, who had rallied to the defence of the Papacy three centuries before,——those missionary orders that had filled the best pulpits and the highest chairs of philosophy in the scholastic age,——had become inexhaustible subjects of sarcasm and mockery, for they were peddling relics and indulgences, and quarrelling among themselves. They were hated as inquisitors, despised as scholastics, and deserted as preachers; the roads and taverns were filled with them. Erasmus laughed at them, Luther abused them, and the Pope reproached them. No hope from such men as these, although they had once been re- nowned for their missions, their zeal, their learning, and their preaching. At this crisis Loyola and his companions volunteered their services, and offered to go wherever the Pope should send them, as preachers, or missionaries, or teach- ers, instantly, without discussion, conditions, or rewards. So the Pope accepted them, made them a new religious Order; and they did what the Mendicant Friars had done three hundred years before,——they fanned a new spirit, and rapidly spread over Europe, over all the countries to which Catholic adventurers had pene- trated, and became the most efficient allies that the popes ever had. This was in 1540, six years after the foundation of the Society of Jesus had been laid on the Mount of Martyrs, in the vicinity of Paris, during the pontificate of Paul III. Don Iñigo Lopez de Recalde Loyola, a Spaniard of noble blood an breeding, at first a page at the court of King Ferdinand, then a brave and chival- rous soldier, was wounded at the siege of Pampeluna. During a slow convalescence, having read all the ro- mances he could find, he took up the "Lives of the Saints," and became fired with religious zeal. He im- mediately forsook the pursuit of arms, and betook him- self barefooted to a pilgrimage. He served the sick in hospitals; he dwelt alone in a cavern, practising aus- terities; he went as a beggar on foot to Rome and to the Holy Land, and returned at the age of thirty-three to begin a course of study. It was while completing his studies at Paris that he conceived and formed the "Society of Jesus." From that time we date the counter-reformation. In fifty years more a wonderful change took place in the Catholic Church, wrought chiefly by the Jesuits. Yea, in sixteen years from that eventful night——when far above the star-lit city the enthusiastic Loyola had bound his six companions with irrevocable vows——he had established his Society in the confidence and affec- tion of Catholic Europe, against the voice of universities, the fears of monarchs, and the jealousy of the other monastic orders. In sixteen years, this ridiculed and wandering Spanish zealot had risen to a condition of great influence and dignity, second only in power to the Pope himself; animating the councils of the Vati- can, moving the minds of kings, controlling the souls of a numerous fraternity, and making his influence felt in every corner of the world. Before the remem- brance of his passionate eloquence, his eyes of fire, and his countenance of seraphic piety had passed away from the minds of his own generation, his disciples had planted their missionary stations among Peru- vian mines, in the marts of the African slave-trade, among the islands of the Indian Ocean, on the coasts of Hindustan, in the cities of Japan and China, in the re- cesses of Canadian forests, amid the wilds of the Rocky Mountains." They had the most important chairs in the universities; they were the confessors of mon- archs and men of rank; they had the control of the schools of Italy, France, Austria, and Spain; and they had become the most eloquent, learned, and fashionable preachers in all Catholic countries. They had grown to be a great institution,——an organization instinct with life, a mechanism endued with energy and will; form- ing a body which could outwatch Argus and his hun- dred eyes, and outwork Briareus with his hundred arms; they had twenty thousand eyes open upon every cabinet, every palace, and every private family in Catholic Europe, and twenty-thousand arms ex- tended over the necks of every sovereign and all their subjects,——a mighty moral and spiritual power, irre- sponsible, irresistible, omnipresent, connected intimately with the education, the learning, and the religion of the age; yea, the prime agents in political affairs, the prop alike of absolute monarchies and of the papal throne, whose interests they made identical. This association, instinct with one will and for one purpose, has been beautifully likened by Doctor Williams to the chariot in the Prophet's vision: "The spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels; wherever the living creatures went, the wheels went with them; wherever those stood, these stood: when the living creatures were lifted up, the wheels were lifted up over against them; and their wings were full of eyes round about, and they were so high that they were dreadful. So of the institution of Ignatius,——one soul swayed the vast mass; and every pin and every cog in the machinery consented with its whole power to every movement of the one central conscience." Luther moved Europe by ideas which emancipated the millions, and set in motion a progress which is the glory of our age; Loyola invented an agency which arrested this progress, and led the Catholic world back again into the subjections and despotisms of the Middle Ages, retaining however the fear of God and of Hell, which are the extremes of human motive. What is the secret of such a wonderful success? Two things: first, the extraordinary virtues, abilities, and zeal of the early Jesuits; and, secondly, their wonderful machinery in adapting means to an end. The history of society shows that no body of men ever obtained a wide-spread ascendancy, never secured general respect, unless they deserved it. Industry pro- duces its fruits; learning and piety have their natural results. Even in the moral world natural law asserts its supremacy. Hypocrisy and fraud ultimately will be detected; no enduring reputation is built upon a lie; sincerity and earnestness will call out respect, even from foes; learning and virtue are lights which are not hid under a bushel. Enthusiasm creates enthusiasm; a lofty life will be seen and honored. Nor do people intrust their dearest interests except to those whom they venerate,——and venerate because their virtues shine like the face of a goddess. We yield to those only whom we esteem wiser than ourselves. Moses controlled the Israelites because they venerated his wisdom and courage; Paul had the confidence of the infant churches because they saw his labors; Bernard swayed his darkened age by the moral power of learn- ing and sanctity. The mature judgments of centuries never have reversed the judgments which past ages gave in reference to their master minds. All the pedants and sophists of Europe cannot whitewash Frederic II. or Henry VIII. No man in Athens was more truly venerated than Socrates when he mocked his judges. Cicero, Augustine, Aquinas, appeared to contemporaries as they appear to us. Even Hildebrand did not juggle himself into his theocratic chair. Washington deserved all the reverence he enjoyed; and Bonaparte himself was worthy of the honors he received, so long as he was true to the interests of France. So of the Jesuits,——there is no mystery in their suc- cess; the same causes would produce the same results again. When Catholic Europe saw men born to wealth and rank voluntarily parting with their goods and honors; devoting themselves to religious duties, often in a humble sphere; spending their days in schools and hospitals; wandering as preachers and mission- aries amid privations and in fatigue; encountering perils and dangers and hardships with fresh and ever- sustained enthusiasm; and finally yielding up their lives as martyrs, to proclaim salvation to idolatrous savages,—— it knew them to be heroic, and believed them to be sin- cere, and honored them in consequence. When parents saw that the Jesuits entered heart and soul into the work of education, winning their pupils' hearts by kindness, watching their moods, directing their minds into congenial studies, and inspiring them with generous sentiments, they did not stop to pry into their motives; and universities, when they discovered the superior culture of educated Jesuits, outstripping all their as- sociates in learning, and shedding a light by their genius and erudition, very naturally appointed them to the highest chairs; and even the people, when they saw that the Jesuits were not stained by vulgar vices, but were hard-working, devoted to their labors, earnest, and eloquent, put themselves under their teachings; and especially when they added gentlemanly manners, good taste, and agreeable conversation to their unim- peachable morality and religious fervor, they made these men their confessors as well as preachers. Their lives stood out in glorious contrast with those of the old monks and the regular clergy, in an age of infidel levities, when the Italian renaissance was bearing its worst fruits, and men were going back to Pagan an- tiquity for their pleasures and opinions. That the early Jesuits blazed with virtues and learn- ing and piety has never been denied, although these things have been poetically exaggerated. The world was astonished at their intrepidity, zeal, and devotion. They were not at first intriguing, or ambitious, or covetous. They loved their Society; but they loved still more what they thought was the glory of God. Ad majoram Dei gloriam was the motto which was emblazoned on their standard when they went forth as Christian warriors to overcome the heresies of Christen- dom and the superstitions of idolaters. "The Jesuit missionary," says Stephen, "with his breviary under his arm, his beads at his girdle, and his crucifix in his hands, went forth without fear, to encounter the most dreadful dangers. Martyrdom was nothing to him; he knew that the altar which might stream with his blood, and the mound which might be raised over his remains, would become a cherished object of his fame and an expressive emblem of the power of his religion." "If I die," said Xavier, when about to visit the cannibal Island of Del Moro, "who knows but what all may receive the Gospel, since it is most certain it has ever fructified more abundantly in the field of Paganism by the blood of martyrs than by the labors of mission- aries,"——a sublime truth, revealed to him in his whole course of protracted martyrdom and active philan- thropy, especially in those last hours when, on the Island of Sanshan, he expired, exclaiming, as his fading eyes rested on the crucifix, In te Domine speravi, non con- fundar in eternum. "In perils, in fastings, in fatigues, was the life of this remarkable man passed, in order to convert the heathen world; and in ten years he had traversed a tract of more than twice the circumference of the earth, preaching, disputing, and baptizing, until seventy thousand converts, it is said, were the fruits of his mission." "My companion," said the fearless Marquette, when exploring the prairies of the Western wilderness, "is an envoy of France to discover new countries, and I am an ambassador of God to enlighten them with the Gospel." Lalemant, when pierced with the arrows of the Iroquois, rejoiced that his martyr- dom would induce others to follow his example. The missions of the early Jesuits extorted praises from Baxter and panegyric from Liebnitz. And not less remarkable than these missionaries were those who labored in other spheres. Loyola him- self, though visionary and monastic, had no higher wish than to infuse piety into the Catholic Church, and to strengthen the hands of him whom he regarded as God's viceregent. Somehow or other he succeeded in securing the absolute veneration of his companions, so much so that the sainted Xavier always wrote to him on his knees. His "Spiritual Exercises" has ever remained the great text-book of the Jesuits,——a com- pend of fasts and penances, of visions and of ecstasies; rivalling Saint Theresa herself in the rhapsodies of an exalted piety, showing the chivalric and romantic ardor of a Spanish nobleman directed into the channel of devotion to an invisible Lord. See this wounded soldier at the siege of Pampeluna, going through all the experiences of a Syriac monk in his Manresan cave, and then turning his steps to Paris to acquire a uni- versity education; associating only with the pious and the learned, drawing to him such gifted men as Faber and Xavier, Salmeron and Lainez, Borgia and Bobadilla, and inspiring them with his ideas and his fervor; living afterwards, at Venice, with Caraffa (the future Paul IV.) in the closest intimacy, preaching at Vicenza, and forming a new monastic code, as full of genius and originality as it was of practical wisdom, which became the foundation of a system of govern- ment never surpassed in the power of its mechanism to bind the minds and wills of men. Loyola was a most extraordinary man in the practical turn he gave to re- ligious rhapsodies; creating a legislation for his Society which made it the most potent religious organization in the world. All his companions were remarkable likewise for different traits and excellences, which yet were made to combine in sustaining the unity of this moral mechanism. Lainez had even a more compre- hensive mind than Loyola. It was he who matured the Jesuit Constitution, and afterwards controlled the Council of Trent,——a convocation which settled the creed of the Catholic Church, especially in regard to justification, and which extolled the merits of Christ, but attributed justification to good works in a different sense from that understood and taught by Luther. Aside from the personal gifts and qualities of the early Jesuits, they would not have so marvellously succeeded had it not been for their remarkable consti- tution,——that which bound the members of the Society together, and gave to it a peculiar unity and force. The most marked thing about it was the unbounded and unhesitating obedience required of every member to superiors, and of these superiors to the General of the Order,——so that there was but one will. This law of obedience is, as every one knows, one of the funda- mental principles of all the monastic orders from the earliest times, enforced by Benedict as well as Basil. Still there was a difference in the vow of obedience. The head of a monastery in the Middle Ages was almost supreme. The Lord Abbot was obedient only to the Pope, and he sought the interests of his monas- tery rather than those of the Pope. But Loyola exacted obedience to the General of the Order so absolutely that a Jesuit became a slave. This may seem a harsh epi- thet; there is nothing gained by using offensive words, but Protestant writers have almost universally made these charges. From their interpretation of the con- stitutions of Loyola and Lainez and Aquaviva, a mem- ber of the Society had no will of his own; he did not belong to himself, he belonged to his General,——as in the time of Abraham a child belonged to his father and a wife to her husband; nay, even still more completely. He could not write or receive a letter that was not read by his Superior. When he entered the order, he was obliged to give away his property, but could not give it to his relatives. When he made confession, he was obliged to tell his most intimate and sacred secrets. He could not aspire to any higher rank than that he held; he had no right to be ambitious, or seek his own individual interests; he was merged body and soul into the Society; he was only a pin in the machinery; he was bound to obey even his own servant, if required by his Superior; he was less than a private soldier in an army; he was a piece of wax to be moulded as the Superior directed,——and the Superior, in his turn, was a piece of wax in the hands of the Provincial, and he again in the hands of the General. "There were many gradations in rank, but every rank was a gradation in slavery." The Jesuit is accused of having no individual conscience. He was bound to do what he was told, right or wrong; nothing was right and nothing was wrong except as the Society pronounced. The General stood in the place of God. That man was the happiest who was most mechanical. Every novice had a monitor, and every monitor was a spy. So strict was the rule of Loyola, that he kept Francis Borgia, Duke of Gandia, three years out of the Society, because he re- fused to renounce all intercourse with his family. The Jesuit was obliged to make all natural ties sub- ordinate to the will of the General. And this General was a king more absolute than any worldly monarch, because he reigned over the minds of his subjects. His kingdom was an imperium in imperio; he was chosen for life and was responsible to no one, although he ruled for the benefit of the Catholic Church. In one sense a General of the Jesuits resembled the prime minister of an absolute monarch,——say such a man as Richelieu, with unfettered power in the cause of abso- lutism; and he ruled like Richelieu, through his spies, making his subordinates tools and instruments. The General appointed the presidents of colleges and of the religious houses; he admitted or dismissed, dispensed or punished, at his pleasure. There was no complaint; all obeyed his orders, and saw in him the representative of Divine Providence. Complaint was sin; resistance was ruin. It is hard for us to understand how any man could be brought voluntarily to submit to such a despot- ism. But the novice entering the order had to go through terrible discipline,——to be a servant, anything; to live according to rigid rules, so that his spirit was broken by mechanical duties. He had to learn the virtues of obedience before he could be fully enrolled in the So- ciety. He was drilled for years by spiritual sergeants more rigorously than a soldier in Napoleon's army: hence the efficiency of the body; it was a spiritual army of the highest disciplined troops. Loyola had been a soldier; he knew what military discipline could do,——how impotent an army is without it, what an awful power it is with discipline, and the severer the better. The best soldier of a modern army is he who has become an unconscious piece of machinery; and it was this unreflecting, unconditional obedience which made the Society so efficient, and the General himself, who controlled it, such an awful power for good or for evil. I am only speaking of the organization, the ma- chinery, the régime, of the Jesuits, not of their character, not of their virtues or vices. This organization is to be spoken of as we speak of the discipline of an army, ——wise or unwise, as it reached its end. The original aim of the Jesuits was the restoration of the Papal Church to its ancient power; and for one hundred years, as I think, the restoration of morals, higher education, greater zeal in preaching: in short, a refor- mation within the Church. Jesuitism was, of course, opposed to Protestantism; it hated the Protestants; it hated their religious creed and their emancipating and progressive spirit; it hated religious liberty. I need not dwell on other things which made this religious order so successful,——not merely their virtues and their mechanism, but their adaptation to the chang- ing spirit of the times. They threw away the old dresses of monastic life; they quitted the cloister and places of meditation; they were preachers as well as scholars; they accommodated themselves to the circumstances of the times; they wore the ordinary dress of gentlemen; they remained men of the world, of fine manners and cultivated speech; there was nothing ascetic or re- pulsive about them, out in the world; they were all things to all men, like politicians, in order to accom- plish their ends; they never were lazy, or profligate or luxurious. If their Order became enriched, they as individuals remained poor. The inferior members were not even ambitious; like good soldiers, they thought of nothing but the work assigned to them. Their pride and glory were the prosperity of their Order,——an in- tense esprit de corps, never equalled by any body of men. This, of course, while it gave them efficiency, made them narrow. They could see the needle on the barn-door,——they could not see the door itself. Hence there could be no agreement with them, no argument with them, except on ordinary matters; they were as zealous as Saul, seeking to make proselytes. They yielded nothing except in order to win; they never compromised their Order in their cause. Their fidelity to their head was marvellous; and so long as they con- fined themselves to the work of making people better, I think they deserved praise. I do not like their military organization, but I should have no more right to abuse it than the organization of some Protestant sects. That is a matter of government; all sects and all parties, Catholic and Protestant, have a right to choose their own government to carry out their ends, even as military generals have a right to organize their forces in their own way. The history of the Jesuits shows this,——that an organization of forces, or what we call discipline or government, is a great thing. A church without a government is a poor affair, so far as efficiency is concerned. All churches have something to learn from the Jesuits in the way of discipline. John Wesley learned something; the In- dependents learned very little. 
chapter from Beacon Lights of History, by John Lord, LL. D., Volume III, Part II: Renaissance and Reformation, pp. 297 - 317. Copyright, 1883, by John Lord. Copyright, 1921, By Wm. H. Wise & Co., New York
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https://www.paypal.com/pools/c/8lVTi6EIcF [anything helps. no amount too small. eternal thanks.]
(i.) (ii.) (iii.)
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Venetian pool is very nice and is open in April. Weather is usually perfect then but possible to run into a bad day (once in April we had a day that was cool with VERY high winds - pools were still open but not enjoyable). The Venetian: The Vezina pool deck is open all year. Pools 1 and 2 at The Venetian are closed for the winter. The pool may close if it’s too cold, so check with the hotel before your visit. Most of the pools off the Vegas Strip are closed for the cooler weather (November, December, January, February). My friends and I went to the Venetian Pool for the afternoon in early November. The pool was beautiful! There is a small waterfall, and the architecture of the area is really pretty. When we were there, it wasn't busy at all, and it was peaceful. We were worried about loud children running around, but it was calm, and there were very few MGM Grand: One heated pool remains open during the winter at MGM while the rest of the 6.5-acre complex shuts down until warmer weather arrives. Vdara: The pool at Vdara remains open year-round, although there is typically a week or two the pool is offline for maintenance. Aria: The foliage rich pool deck at Aria remains open for business in the winter with water heated to 80 degrees. The Venetian Pool Deck Resort Amenities | Pool. PLEASE NOTE: The Venetian pool deck is currently under renovation. During this time, we invite guests to use pools at the nearby Palazzo tower pool deck. The Venetian pool deck is scheduled to open Spring 2021. To get the latest information about our pool closure contact Resort Services at 877-691 THE MAIN VENETIAN POOL REOPENED JULY 3rd, 2019. ORIGINAL ARTICLE from September 2018 on VegasChanges.com: The Venetian Resort on the Las Vegas Strip closed their main pool for major construction after the Labor Day weekend. The pool will remain closed until mid-Spring or early Summer 2019. This massive pool deck is heated to 80 degrees year round! You can get reserve a cabana for the day and even enjoy a massage poolside by Canyon Ranch Spa. Similarly, can you swim in the Venetian Pool? The Venetian Pool is the only swimming pool on the National Register of Historic Places. Large enough to hold 820,000 gallons of fresh water from an underground aquifer, the pool draws water from The Palazzo and Venetian pool area consists of no less than seven pools and four hot tubs. The surrounding fountains and foliage provide a relaxing retreat that is perfect for families. All of the pools are outdoors. They range from 1 ½ feet to 4 feet deep. The area is open year-round. Hours are usually from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m., but only to 4 p.m. during the winter. One of the pools, the Azure Luxury Pool, is closed during the winter and otherwise open weekends only and is for adults only. Part of the pool is open and heated: 10 am – 5 pm: Venetian Palazzo: Heated to 80 degrees all year: 10 am – 6 pm: Vdara: Year-round and heated to 87 degrees! 9 am – 6 pm: Wynn: One pool open & heated to 82 degrees : 8 am – Sunset: Not all Vegas hotels and pools are listed here. If you don’t see your hotel, try their website or just give them a call. For the more popular hotels, it Open to: Free for all guests staying at any Caesars Entertainment hotel Hours: Daily, 10 a.m. – 4 a.m. Ooh, la la! A Parisian-style two-acre pool open year round? Magnifique! Not only is the pool at Paris Las Vegas open during the winter months, it has a spiffy view of the Eiffel Tower replica. And since it’s a rooftop pool, you also have

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The Under 18 Girl's National Championship Final 2018

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