This is shuttle launch control, T-minus three hours and holding. Final inspection team is on the mobile launcher platform, continuing their inspections of the vehicle. The team has about eight members, representing NASA and the contractors, and Greg Katnick of Kennedy Space Center is leading the team. The team carries a variety of instruments. One is a portable infrared scanner to measure temperatures on the cryogenic surfaces of the tank, engines and orbiter. They also measure temperatures of the solid rocket booster cases and segment joints. This is shuttle launch control at T-minus three hours and holding. We are standing by to get live coverage of the flight crew as they're sitting down to have their pre-flight meal at their crew quarters and the operations and checkout building. The building is located at KSC's industrial area. This is the location for the crew, and here we have the crew sitting down at the traditional table, the decorated cake bearing their STS-72 insignia. We have mission specialist Koichi Wakata flying for the first time aboard the shuttle. Koichi is an astronaut from NASDA, born in Japan, and Dr. Daniel Berry flying for the first time aboard the shuttle this morning. Berry will be one of the EVA specialists and pilot Brent Jett also flying aboard the shuttle the first time. He'll be monitoring using the RMS for the flight crew while they're performing EVAs. Here we have Commander Brian Duffy flying for the third time aboard the shuttle today. Duffy the most experienced in the shuttle for the whole crew. Mission specialist Leroy Chow is making his second flight today aboard the shuttle. He will be involved in two of the space walks and serving as flight engineer Winston Scott flying for the first time aboard the shuttle today. Again, the crew has been awake since about 7 p.m. and they're getting right on their schedule that they'll be following during the nine-day mission for mission STS-72. The solid rocket booster retrieval ships departed the Hanger AF on Cape Canaveral Air Station yesterday and they are on station out of the Atlantic Ocean about 140 miles due east of KSC. They will be retrieving the solid rocket boosters following their splashdown into the ocean and they will be towed back to the Hanger for refurbishment. The booster casings are disassembled and refurbished at the Saikal Manufacturing Plant in Utah and also here at KSC at the USBI facility here at the Complex 39 area. There are no problems in our countdown. Countdown is proceeding on schedule and for the timeline, T-minus two hours, 57 minutes in counting. Here we have the astronauts for mission STS-72 coming out of their crew quarters at the Operations and Checkout Building. They'll be getting into an elevator where they'll ride down to the first floor. Crew is six. Again, it's been training for the better part of the year. They've spent most of their time training for this particular flight. Some employees wishing them well. Astronaut Bob Cabana is in the blue flight suit. He'll be flying weather reconnaissance in the KSC area and making a report back to the management. Down on the ground, we've got a big crowd of press including quite a large crowd of Japanese news media who made the trip over to see Koichi Wakata as he prepares for his first flight. Crew is getting ready for their nine-day mission to retrieve two satellites and conduct two space walks and conduct a variety of experiments on the mid-deck. We have the team led by Commander Brian Duffy. External tank is now being pressurized for flight. The gaseous oxygen vent hood at the very top of the tank will be moved away, retracted back to the launch position in the next few seconds. We're cautioning warning memory. Verify no one expected errors. Clear no one expected errors. Copy. Endeavour OTC. Close and lock your visors. Initiate O2 smoke flow, have a smooth ride and a safe landing. Alright, thanks OTC and let's get 96 off to a great start. Steelers, go for ET-LH2 pressurization. The six-member crew is about to embark on the first day of the planned nine-day flight. Crew will retrieve the Japanese space-flower unit, deploy and retrieve NASA's host free-flyer satellite and conduct two six-hour space walks. All systems aboard Endeavour are go. T-minus 90 seconds. Endeavour will be launched on an easterly trajectory on an orbit inclined 28.45 degrees to the equator. Endeavour's launch marks the 74th shuttle launch in the history of the program. T-minus one minute. At the T-minus 31 second point, Endeavour's onboard computers will have control of vehicle functions. Go for auto-sequence start. In the next few seconds, thousands of gallons of water will be dumped onto the launch platform to help suppress the sound and shock of the 7 million pounds of thrust produced by the shuttle. T-minus 15 seconds. 12, 11, 10, 9, 8. We have a go for engine start. 4, 3, 2, 1. Booster ignition and liftoff of Endeavour in pursuit of a Japanese satellite. Houston now controlling. 7, 2, 1, 8. Roll program, Houston. Ride your roll, Endeavour. The roll maneuver is complete aboard the over Endeavour. The rover is now in a head-down position on course for a 28 and a half degrees, 250. The rendezvous and capture on Saturday morning. The air prepares to pass through the area of maximum dynamic pressure on the vehicle and it's now throttling back up. Endeavour's three liquid-fueled engines are now back at full throttle. The orbiter is now downrange from the Kennedy Space Center of 10 nautical miles. The orbiter is traveling 2,600 feet per second or about 1,700 miles per hour. The altitude is passing through 90,000 feet. The three hydraulic systems are in excellent shape as are the fuel cells. The main engines are still performing at full throttle. Approaching two minutes into the flight standing by for burnout and separation of the twin solid rocket boosters. SRB separation is confirmed. Time two minutes and 20 seconds into the flight. Performance thus far in the launch phase has been as expected. Endeavour is now at an altitude of 210,000 feet. Downrange from the launch site, 45 nautical miles. Now traveling 5,000 feet per second or about 3,400 miles per hour. Okay, we're there. A7B7? A7B7 and I want to say five downs to start. Okay. I'm going to take a look at that. Actually, it's not dropping at all yet. I'm going to start doing some braking. Okay. Two, three, one, one. That's a really good correlation. 660 minus 0.7. What's that X button? Let's see. I don't want to let a rate build up on that. There it goes. Good job. Good job. I'll see you in the camera. Endeavour, can you get us a laser rate on that departing staff? I doubt it. It's going tangent to us. Tangent 268. Slant rate is 0.6. The slant rate is 0.6. Tell them that it looks like it was nominal. I would guess a couple of feet per second or I don't know, it's just that it's hard to tell for this range. Range? 250. Three inches. Two inches. And which he's got at Houston? Standing job, Endeavour. No need to reply. Made a man's zero, only he's on board. Clockwise, your maneuver started. Clockwise, your period maneuver has stopped. Counterclockwise, period maneuver started. Counterclockwise, period maneuver stopped. We're on board the mid-deck, thank you. Endeavour, Houston, one minute till a TDRS handover and I have the SFU thermal bailout attitude when you're ready to copy. Target four, body vector five. Pitch, one, four. Yaw, zero. Omicron, two, seven, zero. Target four, body vector five. Pitch, zero, one, four. Yaw, zero. Omicron, two, seven, zero. Good copy, and I've got an adjustment to that after the handover. Endeavour, Houston, free V. Leroy, we see you coming out. 30 seconds to the ZOE. Okay, come out, Winston. Endeavour, get you back at two, zero, zero, nine. Ten minutes of ratty comm off the tail when we come back. I'll give you some slack here, Leroy. Okay. How am I doing, Dan? You're doing fine. I'm just... That's a fact. You've got one little cover around you. Endeavour, one minute to the ZOE.  Ten minutes of comm off the tail when we come back on the West. Do that, too. Dan's clear. Second, I'm going to get my cutters set properly.  All right. Brian, if you could just move the MS where I can reach it. Leroy, your next step after the adjustable pattern now is to pay the message indirectly. You did that.   We'll put that in work in just a moment. Winston, can you tell me what we're passing over right now? Leroy, what do you want me to do with the arm? Okay, go ahead. I'm done with the arm. You can go back to the grapple position. That's correct. That's where we need to be. Endeavour, Houston, for Daniel River, Australia. Next arm, it's an incredible fight. I'm envious. The pin is inverted to your point of view. I know, Dan. I'm just seeing the roll being like 180 degrees off. That looks good. Don't worry. Okay. That's supposed to be. Okay. Three more inches forward. That's exactly where it's supposed to be. I'm going to go... When you give me a go, I'm going to go for a capture. But, Brent, I'm showing the... Hammer's right where it's supposed to be. Parts of the end effector that go into the... They go into the five pieces, the three pieces each at 120 degrees each other. Yeah. I'm showing it off by 180 degrees. But, Dan, stay in there. Okay, we have a great view, Brent. Thanks. Endeavour, Brent. PDRS is looking at this just one moment. Okay, let me know when we go for a capture. You go for a capture. I show a good capture. I saw the snares grow nicely. Okay. I got good capture, Dan. Let me know when you go for a rigid. You go for a rigid. Here comes a rigid. I'm waiting. I see it rigidizing. We've got a rigid. Great. Fantastic. Good job, guys. Okay. Now, Brent, if you could come straight toward me a little bit. Stand by, Dan. I'm waiting for the rigid. I'll be back. Okay, I'm sorry. And... Okay. Winston, if you could tell me again, where to hook the cutter to? Which end of the indefector to hook the cutter to? Okay, Dan, you're going to hook that to, the yellow end of the indefector. Okay. They can't move it down toward you. Okay. Stand by just one second, Brent. I have to... Because of the reconfigure, I have to move Lee or his cutter from where it was to the other side. Stand by.  Okay. You're looking good. Both feet are... Your right foot is almost there. Your right foot's in the loop. Needs your heel to move. There you go. Your left hand. But you know what, Leroy? Your right is above the... You know how that angle is? Okay. Let me try again. Have that. Now you're improperly and your left is in beautifully. Great. Okay, you're looking good from in here, Leroy. Dan, can you verify again that you temporarily attached Leroy's slide to our state services in London? Negative, Winston. I'm going to do that after I hook him up so I don't have to go back and forth twice. Okay. Okay. Access and operate the PFRWS pitch controls. Go over to the... far here. Okay, Dan. Okay. Pitch control works. Winston, pitch control works fine. Okay, Leroy. You want to access and operate the PFRWS tool hits. Okay. Access and operate the yaw control to position the PFRWS around the ATFRWS. Attention. Attention.  They're fine for me, but some of them are in the lead-up, so we'll see what happens. Look at the... look at the earth there. Take a look over the field if you can. Oh, my goodness. They're coming back in plane. Oh, I got it. I got it. Hold on. I got it. Okay. I got it. Okay, it's entirely yours. Yeah. I got it. Okay. Okay, Brent, come on up out of the bay. Endeavour Houston on air to ground two for the flight deck. I don't think that'll be a big problem. So I'm going to go to the other end of the bay. Endeavour Houston on the west. I've got some FESS actions for the flight deck. Unless you all can see that from the window. For the flight deck, we'd like the supply water dump using FESS on 5-9 using FESS-B. Okay, keep going. Keep going. You're almost there. You're at it. You're at the latch. Okay, it's latched. Okay. You can see how badly the... the cables are bound up. The cables are bound up. Yep. We actually want to take a picture of that for the ground. Okay, keep going. We'll do a couple other axes for you there. Endeavour Houston, no action on the PDRS slip. That's due to the ingress from Dan. Okay, we copy. Okay, right, Steve. You've got the PDAF there. You can install the PDAF on the starboard bay for latch play. Okay. That's in work. The primary jet firing is coming up for both of y'all. Okay. There's no one there. They're going to stop and they'll be done. And Winston then install and remove an avionics line from that TA line. Okay. And that will be in work after the burn. Dan, this configuration of the APF-R, and I'm going to do three clockwise on the Z-bolt. Endeavour Houston, we're two minutes from the ZOE. We'll get you back in approximately seven minutes for the flight deck. You'll go for the SM checkpoint at the end of 14-7 Cabin Repress. And for IV and EV, the plan right now is for Leroy to proceed as planned on the timeline for EV-3. The plan right now is for Leroy to proceed as planned on the timeline for EV-3. We're going to give you some easy tasks following your utility box so you both meet up at PWP setup. That's the plan for now. So you're going to be a quick grab, which is three times both hands to space. Three times both hands to space. Here we go. Three times single layback, no hands. Max. Okay, there's one. Minutes on East will be in blockage. You have the cameras. Okay, so are we copy that? Endeavour, we can take the cameras again. Okay, so are you ready? My BRT is going to go back here anyway. I've got it. Okay, I'm going to let go. Orientation one more time to go a little bit like this way. It goes in 180 from what you've got. That thing that's facing your chest goes into that probe sticking out of the wall. Okay, that's complete. You ingress your lock. You can both set your waters to off. Double clover's closed. Okay, you are going to close locking the outer hatch. They're going to close locking the outer hatch. Thanks. That's an intermittent leak and it's understood. We might have to do that again during the flight. Also, we're coming up on a handover with T-dress in two minutes. It's an extended handover and we'll get you back at 1938. Endeavour Houston, the flight director wants to know who Buzz Lightyear is down there. It's in his stash. He's got it stashed. It's back here. I'll get it on the swap out right whenever you're ready to start. Yeah, I'm ready. You ready? Okay. Swap. My heart's going. Roger, Brian. Again, you have a six knot tailwind. Gear down and locked. Commander Brian Duffy now pulling the nose of the orbiter up in a pre-flare maneuver. Altitude 700 feet. Pilot Brent Jett preparing to put the landing gear down. The landing gear is down and locked. Main gear touched down. Nose gear touched down. Endeavour rolling out on runway 15 at the Kennedy Space Center, completing Endeavour's 10th mission in space, the 74th mission in the shuttle program, completing 142 orbits of the Earth traveling 3.7 million miles. Copy. We'll stop. Welcome back, guys. Duffy, you did a great job of getting this started in 1996. Standby for any post-landing deltas. Roger.


We continue today with chapter 25. The Justice of God. Introduction. The Christ in you inhabits not a body, yet he is in you, and thus it must be that you are not within a body. What is within you cannot be outside, and it is certain that you cannot be apart from what is at the very center of your life. What gives you life cannot be housed in death. No more can you. Christ is within a frame of holiness whose only purpose is that he may be made manifest to those who know him not, that he may call to them to come to him and see him where they thought their bodies were, then where their bodies melt away, that they may frame his holiness in them. No one who carries Christ in him can fail to recognize him everywhere, except in bodies, and as long as he believes he is in a body where he thinks he is, he cannot be. And so he carries him unknowingly and does not make him manifest. And thus he does not recognize him where he is. The Son of Man is not the risen Christ, yet does the Son of God abide exactly where he is and walks with him within his holiness, as plain to see as is his specialness set forth within his body. The body needs no healing, but the mind that thinks it is a body is second deed, and it is here that Christ sets forth the remedy. His purpose folds the body in his light and fills it with the holiness that shines from him and nothing that the body says or does but makes him manifest. To those who know him not, it carries him in gentleness and love to heal their minds. Such is the mission that your brother has for you, and such it must be that your mission is for him. The link to truth. It cannot be that it is hard to do the test that Christ appointed you to do, since it is he who does it, and in the doing of it will you learn the body merely seems to be the means to do it. For the mind is his, and so it must be yours. His holiness directs the body through the mind at one with him, and you are manifest unto your holy brother as he to you. Here is the meeting of the holy Christ unto himself, nor any differences perceived to stand between the aspects of his holiness, which meet and join and raise him to his Father, whole and pure and worthy of his everlasting love. How can you manifest the Christ in you except to look on holiness and see him there?   And would you not despise the one who tells you this and seek his death instead? The message and the messenger are one, and you must see your brother as yourself.  Set in his holiness, the Christ in him proclaims himself as you.  It chooses where you think your safety lies at your decision. It reveals yourself to you as you would have you be, and always is it faithful to your purpose, from which it never separates, nor gives the slightest witness unto anything the purpose in your mind upholdeth not. Perception is a part of what is your purpose to behold, for means and end are never separate, and thus you learn what seems to have a life apart, has none. You are the means for God, not separate, nor with a life apart from his. His life is manifest in you who are his son. Each aspect of himself is framed in holiness and perfect purity, in love celestial, and so complete it wishes only that it may release all that it looks upon unto itself. Its radiance shines through each body that it looks upon, and brushes all its darkness into light by merely looking past it to the light. The veil is lifted through its gentleness, and nothing hides the face of Christ from its beholders. You and your brother stand before him now to let him draw aside the veil that seems to keep you separate and apart. Since you believe that you are separate, heaven presents itself to you as separate too. Not that it is in truth, but that the link that has been given you to join the truth may reach to you through what you understand. Father and Son and Holy Spirit are as one, as all your brothers join as one in truth. Christ and his Father never have been separate, and Christ abides within your understanding, in the part of you that shares his Father's will. The Holy Spirit links the other part, the tiny mad idea, desire to be separate, different and special to the Christ, to make the oneness clear to what is really one. In this world, this is not understood, but can be taught. The Holy Spirit serves Christ's purpose in your mind so that the aim of specialness can be corrected where the error lies, because his purpose still is one with both, the Father and the Son. He knows the will of God and what you really will. But this is understood by mind perceived as one, aware that it is one and so experienced. It is the Holy Spirit's function to teach you how this oneness is experienced, what you must do that it can be experienced, and where you should go to do it. All this takes note of time and places if they were discreet, for while you think that part of you is separate, the concept of oneness joined as one is meaningless. It is apparent that a mind so split could never be the teacher of oneness which unites all things within itself. And so what is within this mind and does unite all things together must be its teacher. It must use the language that this mind can understand in the condition in which it thinks it is, and it must use all learning to transfer illusions to the truth, taking all false ideas of what you are and leading you beyond them to the truth that is beyond them. All this can very simply be reduced to this. What is the same cannot be different, and what is one cannot have separate parts. And from the workbook, Lesson 191, I am the Holy Son of God Himself. Here is your declaration of release from bondage of the world, and here as well is all the world released. You do not see what you have done by giving to the world the role of jailer to the Son of God. What could it be but vicious and afraid, fearful of shadows, punitive and wild, lacking all reason, blind, insane with hate. What you have done that this should be your world. What have you done that is this is what you see? Deny your own identity, and this is what remains.  There is no sight that fails to witness this to you. There is no sound that does not speak of frailty within you and without. No breath you draw that does not seem to bring you nearer death. No hope you hold but will dissolve in tears. Deny your own identity and you will not escape the madness which induced this weird unnatural and ghostly thought that mocks creation and that laughs at God. Deny your own identity and you assail the universe alone without a friend, a tiny particle of dust against the legions of your enemies. Deny your own identity and look on evil, sin and death and watch despair snatch from your fingers every scrap of hope leaving you nothing but the wish to die. Yet what is it except a game you play with an identity can be denied. You are as God created you, all else but this one thing is folly to believe. And this one thought is everyone set free. In this one truth are all illusions gone. In this one fact is sinlessness proclaimed to be forever part of everything the central core of its existence and its guarantee of immortality. But let today's idea find a place among your thoughts and you have risen far above the world in all the worldly thoughts that hold a prisoner. And from this place of safety and escape you will return and set it free for he who can accept his true identity is truly saved. And his salvation is the gift he gives to everyone in gratitude to him who pointed out the way to happiness that changed his whole perspective of the world. One holy thought like this and you are free.  And with this holy thought you learn as well that you have freed the world. You have no need to use it cruelly and then perceive this savage need in it. You set it free of your imprisonment. You will not see a devastating image of yourself walking the world in terror with the world twisting in agony because of your fears have it laid the mark of death upon its heart. Be glad today how very easily is hell undone. You need but tell yourself, I am the Holy Son of God himself. I cannot suffer, cannot be in pain. I cannot suffer loss or fail to do all that salvation asks. And in that thought is everything you look on wholly changed. A miracle has lighted up all dark and ancient caverns where the rites of death echoed since time began. For time has lost its hold upon the world. The Son of God has come in glory to redeem the lost, to save the helpless, and to give the world the gift of his forgiveness. Who could see the world as dark and sinful when God's Son has come again at last to set it free? You who perceive yourself as weak and frail with futile hopes and devastated dreams, born but to die, to weep and suffer pain, hear this, all power is given unto you in earth and heaven. There is nothing that you cannot do. You play the game of death, of being helpless, pitifully tied to disillusion in a world which shows no mercy to you. Yet when you accorded mercy, will its mercy shine on you? Then let the Son of God awaken from his sleep and opening his holy eyes return again to bless the world he made. In error it began, but it will end in the reflection of his holiness. And he will sleep no more and dream of death. Then join with me today. Your glory is the light that saves the world. Do not withhold salvation longer. Look about the world and see the suffering there. Is not your heart willing to bring your weary brother's rest? They must await your own release. They stay in chains till you are free. They cannot see the mercy of the world until you find it in yourself. They suffer pain until you have denied its hold on you.   Remember this, and all the world is free. Remember this, and earth and heaven are one. Amen.


It is the final trading session of September. Let's talk to Doug Sandler, global strategist at Riverfront Investment Group. All right, Doug, stocks are on track for a positive month in September, and usually September is the worst month of the year for the markets. This is gonna be the best September since 2013, so why is everything so great? Yeah, I think the old adage is the market likes to frustrate the most people. And I think the most people, just in polls that I've taken, have been most people are waiting for a pullback.  And as a result, we sort of get this frustration where as it goes higher, people feel like they're gonna get left out so the pullbacks are short and shallow. If you even wanna call them pullbacks nowadays. And I think that's gonna be the way it keeps going for a while. But still, we had quite a busy month just in terms of news for September. We had North Korea provocations. We had a major federal reserve announcement on their balance sheet. You would think those events coupled together would move the markets to the downside, but nothing. Right, I almost take those two perspectives on the market. You know, one is sort of the markets one punch from being knocked out, right? We've had nuclear threats. We've had, you know, a president that's very polarizing in this natural disasters. And, you know, we're not in that camp at all. I think our view would be, would you look at the shots the market's taken from the world? And it's still standing. And that's resilience that should be respected and not feared. So, you know, I think it's a really good sign. As times of market really, I think tells you what it wants to do and it's screaming that there's a lot of underlying support here. And that's just on the supply-demand perspective. We can talk about the fundamentals too. Well, we got away unscathed for September. At least, you know, we'll see how the market's closed today. But we have had sell-offs in October, most notably in 2014. We had a slew of down days. So give us your outlook for October. Do we get that pull back then? Yeah, our view going forward is we're probably going to get continued grinding higher. And if you get a pullback, one, I don't know if it's going to happen, but two, I don't think it's going to be worth waiting for. You know, pullback at the S&P 2800 or a couple hundred points higher than now. Sure, it may pull back, but if you've waited for that. It's not much of a discount. Yeah, the pullback's not going to get to where you left it today. And to your point earlier, I mean, the pullback so far this year has been a 1% down. I mean, that's nothing. Although the strategy so far this year has been by the dips. Is that a strategy you would recommend in the coming months? Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if we'd go into that kind of 1992 to 1996 period where it was a grind higher and by the dip mentality. And I think that's probably where we're going. Is there a certain playbook for these dips in terms of what sectors you advise clients to look at? Yeah, generally on a dip you want to buy stuff that they'd call higher beta stuff. So, you know, I think the winners will remain winners. So if you get a pullback, we saw it the other day.  Well, it wasn't much of a pullback, but it was also the one that rebounded the most, you know, the following days. So I'd say tech, I'd say small caps. We like the financials. Russell 2000 at a record high, which is incredible. Gonna ask you to put your crystal ball on your crystal thinking. Let me ask you your S&P 500 target for the end of the year. We're at 2507 or something right now. Yeah, I mean, we don't put targets, but I just say higher. Higher, you know, by a couple of percent. The most exciting thing for us is we're looking overseas.  And I could see that, you know, three months really hard to make a prediction, but I could see another, you know, double digit year, next year, year after, because I think we're still cheap. I think all the macro fundamental stuff is kind of a lot, you know, stars are aligned. All right, we'll see what that earnings growth brings us. Doug Sandler, thank you so much. Thanks, Scott. All right, I'm Scott Gamm and you're watching The Street.


Chapter 5 of Tales from Sketches by Boz. Chapter 5 of Tales. Horatio Sparkins Indeed, my love, he paid to read a very great attention on the last assembly-night, said Mrs. Mulderton, addressing her spouse, who, after the fatigues of the day in the city, was sitting with a silk handkerchief over his head and his feet on the fender, drinking his port. Very great attention, and I say again, every possible encouragement ought to be given him. He positively must be asked down here to dine. Who must? inquired Mr. Mulderton.  Young, dear me, what is his name? Marianne, what is his name?" continued Mrs. Mulderton, addressing her youngest daughter, who was engaged in netting a purse and looking sentimental. Mr. Horatio Sparkins, ma," replied Miss Marianne, with a sigh. Oh, yes, to be sure, Horatio Sparkins, said Mrs. Mulderton, decidedly the most gentleman-like young man I ever saw. I am sure in the beautifully made coat he wore the other night, he looked like, like, like Prince Leopold, ma, so noble, so full of sentiment," suggested Marianne, in a tone of enthusiastic admiration. You should recollect, my dear, resumed Mrs. Mulderton, that Teresa is now eight and twenty, and that it really is very important that something should be done. Miss Teresa Mulderton was a very little girl, rather fat, with familial cheeks, but good-humoured, and still disengaged, although to do her justice the misfortune arose from no lack of perseverance on her part. In vain had she flirted for ten years. In vain had Mr. and Mrs. Mulderton assiduously kept up an extensive acquaintance among the young eligible bachelors of Camberwell and even of Wandsworth and Brixton, to say nothing of those who dropped in from town. Miss Mulderton was as well known as the lion on the top of Northumberland House, and had an equal chance of going off. I am quite sure you'd like him," continued Mrs. Mulderton. He is so gentlemanly. "'So clever,' said Miss Marianne." "'And has such a flow of language,' added Miss Teresa. "'He has a great respect for you, my dear,' said Mrs. Mulderton to her husband. Mr. Mulderton coughed and looked at the fire. "'Yes, I'm sure he's very much attached to past society,' said Miss Marianne. "'No doubt of it,' echoed Miss Teresa. "'Indeed, he said as much to me in confidence,' observed Mrs. Mulderton. "'Well, well,' returned Mr. Mulderton, somewhat flattered. "'If I see him at the assembly to Morro, perhaps I'll ask him down. "'I hope he knows we live at Oak Lodge, Camberwell, my dear.' "'Of course, and that you keep a one-horse carriage.' "'I'll see about it,' said Mr. Mulderton, composing himself for a nap. "'I'll see about it.' Mr. Mulderton was a man whose whole scope of ideas was limited to Lloyds, the Exchange, the India House, and the Bank. A few successful speculations had raised him from a situation of obscurity and comparative poverty to a state of affluence. As frequently happens in such cases, the ideas of himself and his family became elevated to an extraordinary pitch as their means increased. They affected fashion, taste, and many other foolories in imitation of their betters, and had very decided and becoming horror of anything which could, by possibility, be considered low. He was hospitable from ostentation, illiberal from ignorance, and prejudiced from conceit. Egotism and the love of display induced him to keep an excellent table. Convenience and the love of good things of this life ensured him plenty of guests. He liked to have clever men, or what he considered such, at his table, because it was a great thing to talk about. But he never could endure what he called sharp fellows. Probably he cherished this feeling out of compliment to his two sons, who gave their respected parent no uneasiness in that particular. The family were ambitious of forming acquaintances and connections in some sphere of society, superior to that in which they themselves moved. And one of the necessary consequences of this desire, added to their utter ignorance of the world beyond their own small circle, was that anyone who could lay claim to an acquaintance with people of rank and title had a sure passport to the table at Oak Lodge, Camberwell. The appearance of Mr. Horatio Sparkin's at the assembly had excited no small degree of surprise and curiosity among its regular frequenters. Who could he be? He was evidently reserved and apparently melancholy. Was he a clergyman? He danced too well. A barrister! He said he was not called. He used very fine words and talked a great deal. Could he be a distinguished foreigner? Come to England for the purpose of describing the country, its manners and customs, and frequenting public balls and public dinners, with a view of becoming acquainted with high life, polished etiquette and English refinement. No, he had not a foreign accent. Was he a surgeon, a contributor to the magazines, a writer of fashionable novels, or an artist? No, to each and all of these surmises there existed some valid objection. Then, said everybody, he must be somebody. I should think he must be, reasoned Mr. Mulderton within himself, because he perceives our superiority and bays us so much attention. The night succeeding the conversation we have just recorded was assembly night. The double-fly was ordered to be at the door of Oak Lodge at nine o'clock precisely. The Miss Mulditons were dressed in sky-blue satin, trimmed with artificial flowers, and Mrs. M, who was a little fat woman, in ditto ditto, looked like her eldest daughter multiplied by two. Mr. Frederick Mulderton, the eldest son, in full dress costume, was the very beau idéal of a smart waiter. And Mr. Thomas Mulderton, the youngest with his white dress stock, blue coat, bright buttons, and red watch-ribbon, strongly resembled the portrait of that interesting but rash young gentleman, George Barnwell. Every member of the party had made up his or her mind to cultivate the acquaintance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins. Mr. Reeser, of course, was to be as amiable and interesting as ladies of eight and twenty on the lookout for a husband usually are. Mrs. Mulderton would be all smiles and graces. Miss Marianne would request the favour of some verses for her album. Mr. Mulderton would patronise the great unknown by asking him to dinner. Tom intended to ascertain the extent of his information on the interesting topics of snuff and cigars. Then Mr. Frederick Mulderton himself, the family authority on all points of taste, dress, and fashionable arrangement, who had lodgings of his own in town, who had a free admission to Covent Garden Theatre, who always dressed according to the fashions of the months, who went up the water twice a week in the season, and who actually had an intimate friend who once knew a gentleman who formerly lived in the Albany, even he had determined that Mr. Horatio's Sparkins must be a devilish good fellow, and that he would do him the honour of challenging him to a game at Billions. The first object that met the anxious eyes of the expectant family on their entrance into the ballroom was the interesting Horatio, with his hair brushed off his forehead, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, reclining in a contemplative attitude on one of the seats. There he is, my dear, whispered Mrs. Mulderton to Mr. Mulderton. How like Lord Byron! murmured Mr. Theresa. Hormon, gummary! whispered Miss Marianne. All the portraits of Captain Cook! suggested Tom.  The elegant Sparkins attitudinised with admirable effect, until the family had crossed the room. He then started up with the most natural appearance of surprise and delight, accosted Mrs. Mulderton with the utmost cordiality, saluted the young ladies in the most enchanting manner, bowed to and shook hands with Mr. Mulderton with a degree of respect amounting almost to veneration, and returned the greetings of the two young men in a half-gratified, half-patronising manner, which fully convinced them that he must be an important, and at the same time condescending, personage. Mrs. Mulderton said her ratio after the ordinary salutations and bowing very low. May I be permitted to presume to hope that you will allow me to have the pleasure? I don't think I am engaged, said Miss Teresa, with a dreadful affectation of indifference. But really, so many! her ratio looked handsomely miserable. I shall be most happy, simpered the interesting Teresa at last. Her ratio's countenance brightened up, like an old hat in a shower of rain. A very gentle young man, certainly, said the gratified Mr. Mulderton, as the obsequious sparkings and his partner joined the quadril which was just forming. He has a remarkably good address, said Mr. Frederick. Yes, he's a prime fellow, interposed Tom, who always managed to put his foot in it. He talks just like an auctioneer.  Tom looked as happy as a cock on a jizzily morning. How delightful! said the interesting her ratio to his partner as they promenaded the room at the conclusion of the set. How delightful! how refreshing it is to retire from the cloudy storms, the vicissitudes and the troubles of life, even if it be but for a few short fleeting moments, and to spend those moments fading and evanescent though they be, in the delightful, the blessed society of one individual whose frowns would be death, whose coldness would be madness, whose falsehood would be ruin, whose constancy would be bliss. The possession of whose affection would be the brightest and best reward that heaven could bestow on man. What feeling, what sentiment, thought Miss Theresa as she leaned more heavily on her companion's arm. But enough, enough, resumed the elegant sparkings with a theatrical air. What have I said, what have I, I, to do with sentiments like these, Miss Maldeton? Here he stopped short. May I hope to be permitted to offer the humble tribute of... Really, Mr. Sparkins? ...returned the enraptured Theresa, blushing in the sweetest confusion. I must refer you to Papa. I never can without his consent. Then, Chetul? Surely he cannot object. Oh yes, indeed, indeed, you know him not. Interrupted Miss Theresa, well-knowing there was nothing to fear but wishing to make the interview resemble a scene in some romantic novel. He cannot object to my offering you a glass of meagres. Returned the adorable Sparkins with some surprise. Is that all? thought the disappointed Theresa. What a fuss about nothing! It will give me the greatest pleasure, sir, to see you to dinner at Oak Lodge-Camborwell on Sunday next at five o'clock, if you have no better engagement. Said Mr. Maldeton at the conclusion of the evening, as he and his sons were standing in conversation with Mr. Horatio's Sparkins. Horatio bowed his acknowledgements and accepted the flattering invitation. I must confess, continued the father, offering his snuff-box to his new acquaintance, that I don't enjoy these assemblies half so much as the comfort I had almost said the luxury of Oak Lodge. They have no great charms for an elderly man. And after all, sir, what is man? said the metaphysical Sparkins. I say, what is man? Ah, very true, said Mr. Maldeton, very true. We know that we live and breathe, continued Horatio, that we have wants and wishes, desires and appetites. Certainly, said Mr. Frederick Maldeton, looking profound. I say, we know that we exist, repeated Horatio, raising his voice, but there we stop. There is an end to our knowledge. There is the summit of our attainments. There is the termination of our ends. What more do we know? Nothing, replied Mr. Frederick, than whom no one was more capable of answering for himself in that particular.  Upon my word, said Mr. Maldeton the elder, as they were returning home in the fly. That, Mr. Sparkind, is a wonderful young man, such surprising knowledge, such extraordinary information, and such a splendid mode of expressing himself. I think he must be somebody in disguise, said Miss Marianne, how charmingly romantic. He talks very loud and nicely, timidly observed Tom, but I don't exactly understand what he means. I almost begin to despair of your understanding anything, Tom, said his father, who, of course, had to be much enlightened by Mr. Horatio's Sparkind's conversation. It strikes me, Tom, said Miss Theresa, that you have made yourself very ridiculous this evening. No doubt of it, cried everybody, and the unfortunate Tom reduced himself into the least possible space. That night, Mr. and Mrs. Maldeton had a long conversation respecting their daughter's prospects and future arrangements. Miss Theresa went to bed, considering whether, in the event of her marrying a title, she could conscientiously encourage the visits of her present associates, and dreamed all night of disguised noblemen, large routs, ostrich plumes, bridal favours, and Horatio's Sparkinds. Various surmises were hazarded on the Sunday morning, as to the mode of conveyance which the anxiously expected Horatio would adopt. Did he keep a gig? Was it possible he could come on horseback? Or would he patronise the stage? These and other various conjectures of equal importance engrossed the attention of Mrs. Maldeton and her daughters during the whole morning after church.  On account of Mr. Sparkinds' coming down, I purposely abstained from asking anyone but Flamwell, and then to think of your brother a tradesman. It's insufferable. I declare I wouldn't have him mention his shop before our new guest. No, not for a thousand pounds.  So vulgar and so lost to all sense of feeling that he actually never scrupled to a vow that he wasn't above his business. He'd made his money by it, and he didn't care who knowed it. Ah, Flamwell, my dear fellow, how'd he do? said Mr. Maldeton as a little spoffish man with green spectacles entered the room. You got my note? Yes, I did, and here I am in consequence. You don't happen to know this, Mr. Sparkinds, by name. You know everybody. Mr. Flamwell was one of those gentlemen of remarkably extensive information, whom one occasionally meets in society, who pretend to know everybody, but in reality, know nobody. But Maldon's, where any stories about great people were received with a greedy ear, he was and his special favourite, and knowing the kind of people he had to deal with, he carried his passion of claiming acquaintance with everybody to the most immoderate length. He had rather a singular way of telling his greatest lies in a parenthesis. And with an air of self-denial, as if he feared being thought egotistical. Why, no, I don't know him by that name. Returned Flamwell in a low tone, and with an air of immense importance. I have no doubt I know him, though. Is he tall? Middle-styzed, said Mr. Eesa. With black hair. Inquired Flamwell, hazarding a bold guess. Yes. Returned Mr. Eesa eagerly. Rather a snob-nose? No, said the disappointed Teresa. He has a Roman nose. I said a Roman nose, didn't I? Inquired Flamwell. He's an elegant young man. Oh, certainly. With remarkably pre-possessing manners. Oh, yes, said all the family together. You must know him. Yes, I thought you knew him, if he was anybody. Triumphantly exclaimed Mr. Mulderton. Who do you think he is? Why, from your description, said Flamwell, ruminating and sinking his voice almost to a whisper. He bears a strong resemblance to the honourable Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne. He's a very talented young man, and rather eccentric. It's extremely probable he may have changed his name for some temporary purpose. Teresa's heart beat high. Could he be the honourable Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne?  The honourable Mrs. Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne. The thought was transport. It's five minutes to five, said Mr. Mulderton, looking at his watch. I hope he's not going to disappoint us. There he is! exclaimed Mr. Teresa, as a loud double knock was heard at the door. Everybody endeavoured to look, as people, when they particularly expect a visitor, always do, as if they were perfectly unsuspicious of the approach of anybody. The room door opened. Mr. Barton, said the servant, confound the man, murmured Mulderton. Ah, my dear sir, how do you do? Any news? Why, no, returned the grocer in his usual bluff manner. No, none particular, none that I am much aware of. How do you do, girls and boys? Mr. Flamwell, sir, glad to see you. Here's Mr. Sparkins, said Tom, who had been looking out at the window, on such a black horse.  After a great deal of reigning in and pulling up, with the accompaniments of snorting, rearing and kicking, the animal consented to stop at about a hundred yards from the gate, where Mr. Sparkins dismounted and confided him to the care of Mr. Mulderton's groom. The ceremony of introduction was gone through in all due form. Mr. Flamwell looked from behind his green spectacles at Horatio, with an air of mysterious importance, and the gallant Horatio looked unutterable things at Teresa. Is he the honourable Mr. Augustus, what's his name? Whispered Mrs. Mulderton to Flamwell, as he was escorting her to the dining-room. Why, no, at least not exactly. Returned that great authority. Not exactly. Who is he, then? Hush! said Flamwell, nodding his head with a grave air, importing that he knew very well, but was prevented by some grave reasons of state, from disclosing the important secret. It might be one of the ministers making himself acquainted with the views of the people. Mr. Sparkins, said the delighted Mrs. Mulderton, pray divide the ladies. John put a chair for the gentleman between Mr. Teresa and Miss Marianne. This was addressed to a man who on ordinary occasions acted as half-groom, half-gardener, but who, as it was important to make an impression on Mr. Sparkins, had been forced into a white neckerchief and shoes, and touched up and brushed to look like a second footman. The dinner was excellent, her ratio was most attentive to Mr. Teresa, and everyone felt in high spirits, except Mr. Mulderton, who, knowing the propensity of his brother-in-law, Mr. Barton, endured that sort of agony which the newspapers inform us, is experienced by the surrounding neighbourhood, when a pot-boy hangs himself in a hayloft, and which is much easier to be imagined than described. Have you seen your friend, Sir Thomas Nolan, lately, Flamwell? inquired Mr. Mulderton, casting a side-long look at her ratio, to see what effect the mention of so great a man had upon him. Fine, no, not very lately. I saw Lord Govelton the day before yesterday. Ah, I hope his lordship is very well! said Mulderton, in a tone of the greatest interest. It is scarcely necessary to say that, until that moment, he had been quite innocent of the existence of such a person. Why, yes, he was very well, very well indeed. He's a devilish good fellow. I met him in the city, and had a long chat with him. Indeed, I'm rather intimate with him. I couldn't stop to talk to him as long as I could wish, though, because I was on my way to a bankers, a very rich man, and a member of parliament, with whom I am also rather, indeed I may say, very intimate. I know whom you mean, returned the host consequentially, in reality knowing as much about the matter as Flamwell himself. He has a capital business. This was touching on a dangerous topic. The talking of business interposed Mr Barton from the centre of the table, a gentleman whom you knew very well, Mulderton, before you made that first lucky speck of yours, called at our shop the other day. And Barton, may I trouble you for a potato? Interrupted the wretched master of the house, hoping to nip the story in the bud. Certainly, returned the grocer quite insensible of his brother-in-law's object, and he said in a very plain manner, flurry, if you please, interrupted Mulderton again, dreading the termination of the anecdote and fearing a repetition of the word shop. He said, says he, continued the culprit after dispatching the potato, says he, how goes on your business? So I said, jokingly, you know my way, says I, I'm never above my business, and I hope my business will never be above me. Mr Sparkins said the host, vainly endeavouring to conceal his dismay, a glass of wine. With the utmost pleasure, sir. Happy to see you. Thank you. And we were talking the other evening, resumed the host, dressing her ratio, partly with the view of displaying the conversational powers of his new acquaintance, and partly in the hope of drowning the grocer's stories. We were talking the other night about the nature of man, your argument struck me very forcibly. And me, said Mr Frederick, her ratio made a graceful inclination of the head. Pray, what is your opinion of women, Mr Sparkins, inquired Mrs Malderton, the young lady's simpert. Man, replied her ratio, man, whether he range the bright, gay, flowery planes of a second Eden, or the more sterile barren, and, I may say, common place, regions, to which we are compelled to accustom ourselves in times such as these. Man, under any circumstances, or in any place, whether he were bending beneath the withering blasts of the frigid zone, or scorching under the rays of a vertical sun, man, without woman, would be alone. I am very happy to find you entertain such honorable opinions, Mr Sparkins, said Mrs Malderton. And I, added Mr Reeson, her ratio looked his delight, and the young lady blushed. Now it's my opinion, said Mr Barton. I know what you're going to say, interposed Malderton, determined not to give his relation another opportunity, and I don't agree with you. What? inquired the astonished grocer. I am sorry to differ from you, Barton, said the host, in as positive a manner as if he really were contradicting a position which the other had laid down, but I cannot give my assent to what I consider a very monstrous proposition. But I meant to say, you never can convince me, said Malderton, with an air of obstinate determination. Never! And I, said Mr Frederick, following up his father's attack, cannot entirely agree in Mr Sparkins' argument. What? said her ratio, who became more metaphysical and more argumentative as he saw the female part of the family listening in wondering delight. What is effect the consequence of cause, is cause the precursor of effect? That's the point, said Flamwell. To be sure, said Mr Malderton. Because if effect is the consequence of cause, and if cause does precede effect, I apprehend you are wrong, added her ratio. Decidedly, said the toad-eating Flamwell. At least I apprehend that to be the just and logical deduction. Said Sparkins, in a tone of interrogation. No doubt of it, chimed in Flamwell again. It settles the point. Well, perhaps it does, said Mr Frederick. I didn't see it before. I don't exactly see it now, thought the grocer, but I suppose it's all right. How wonderfully clever he is, whispered Mrs Malderton to her daughters, as they retired to the drawing-room. Oh, he's quite a love! said both the young ladies together. He talks like an oracle. He must have seen a great deal of life. The gentlemen, being left to themselves, are paws ensued, during which everybody looked very grave, as if they were quite overcome by the profound nature of the previous discussion. Flamwell, who had made up his mind to find out who and what Mr Horatio's Sparkins really was, first broke silence. Excuse me, sir, said that distinguished personage. I presume you have studied for the bar. I thought of entering once myself. Indeed, I'm rather intimate with some of the highest ornaments of that distinguished profession. No, no, said Horatio, with a little hesitation. Not exactly. But you have been much among the sold guns, or I'm a stink, inquired Flamwell deferentially. Nearly all my life returned Sparkins. The question was thus pretty well settled in the mind of Mr Flamwell. He was a young gentleman about to be called. I shouldn't like to be a barrister, said Tom, speaking for the first time, and looking round the table to find somebody who would notice the remark. No one made any reply. I shouldn't like to wear a wig, said Tom, hazarding another observation. Tom, I beg you will not make yourself ridiculous, said his father.  Very well, father, replied the unfortunate Tom, who had not spoken a word since he had asked for another slice of beef at a quarter-past five o'clock p.m., and it was then eight. Well, Tom, observes his good-natured uncle. Never mind, I think with you. I shouldn't like to wear a wig. I'd rather wear an apron. Mr Moulderton coughed violently. Mr Barton resumed, for if a man's above his business, the cough returned with tenfold violence, and did not cease until the unfortunate cause of it, in his alarm, had quite forgotten what he intended to say. Mr Sparkins, said flamwell, returning to the charge. Do happen to know, Mr Delafontaine, of Bedford Square? I have exchanged cards with him, since which indeed I have had an opportunity of serving him considerably, replied Horatio, slightly colouring, no doubt at having been betrayed into making the acknowledgement. You are very lucky if you have had an opportunity of obliging that great man, observed flamwell with an air of profound respect. I don't know who he is, he whispered to Mr Moulderton confidentially, as they followed Horatio up to the drawing-room. It's quite clear, however, that he belongs to the law, and that he is somebody of great importance, and very highly connected. No doubt, no doubt, returned his companion. The remainder of the evening passed away most delightfully. Mr Moulderton, relieved from his apprehensions by the circumstance of Mr Barton's falling into a profound sleep, was as affable and gracious as possible. Mr Theresa played the fall of Paris, as Mr Sparkin's declared in a most masterly manner, and both of them, assisted by Mr Frederick, tried over glies and treos without number, they having made the pleasing discovery that their voices harmonised beautifully. To be sure they all sang the first part, and Horatio, in addition to the slight drawback of having no ear, was perfectly innocent of knowing a note of music. Still they passed the time very agreeably, and it was past twelve o'clock before Mr Sparkin's ordered the morning coach-looking steed to be brought out, an order which was only complied with on the distinct understanding that he was to repeat his visit on the following Sunday. But perhaps Mr Sparkin's will form one of our party tomorrow evening, suggested Mrs M. Mr Moulderton intends taking the girls to see the pantomime. Mr Sparkin's bowed, and promised to join the party in box forty-eight in the course of the evening. We will not tax you for the morning, said Mr Rizzo bewitchingly, for Mare is going to take us to all sorts of places shopping. I know that gentlemen have a great horror of that employment. Mr Sparkin's bowed again, and declared that he should be delighted, but business of importance occupied him in the morning. Flamwell looked at Moulderton significantly. It's turn time, he whispered. At twelve o'clock on the following morning the fly was at the door of Oak Lodge, to convey Mrs Moulderton and her daughters on their expedition for the day. They were to dine and dress for the play at a friend's house. First, driving dither with their band boxes, they departed on their first errand, to make some purchases at Messers-Jones, Spruggins and Smiths, of Tottenham Court Road. After which they were to go to Redmanes in Bond Street, dense to innumerable places that no one ever heard of. The young ladies beguiled the tediousness of the ride by eulogising Mr Horatio Sparkin's, scolding them amare for taking them so far to save the shilling, and wondering whether they should ever reach their destination. At length the vehicle stopped before a dirty-looking ticketed linen-raper's shop, with goods of all kinds, and labels of all sorts and sizes in the window. There were dropsicle figures of seven with a little three farthings in the corner perfectly invisible to the naked eye. Three hundred and fifty thousand ladies-bowers from one shilling and a penny-hapenning. Real French kid-shoes at two-and-ninth pence prepare, green parasols at an equally cheap rate, and every description of goods, as the proprietors said, and they must know best, fifty percent under cost price.  What would Mr. Sparkin say if he could see us? Oh, what indeed! said Miss Marianne, horrified at the idea. O pray be seated, ladies. What is the first article? Inquired the obsequious master of the ceremonies of the establishment, who, in his large white neckcloth and formal tie, looked like a bad portrait of a gentleman in the Somerset House Exhibition. I want to see some silks, answered Mrs. Mulderton. Directly, ma'am. Mr. Smith, where is Mr. Smith? Here, sir. cried a voice at the back of the shop. Pray make haste, Mr. Smith, said the emcee. You never are to be found when you're wanted, sir. Mr. Smith, thus enjoined to use all possible dispatch, leapt over the counter with great agility, and placed himself before the newly arrived customers. Mrs. Mulderton uttered a faint scream. Mr. Reza, who had been stooping down to talk to her sister, raised her head and beheld Horatio's sparkins. We will draw a veil, as novel writers say, over the scene that ensued. The mysterious, philosophical, romantic, metaphysical sparkins. He who, to the interesting, Reza, seemed like the embodied idea of the young dukes and poetical exquisites in blue silk dressing-garns and ditto-ditto slippers, of whom she had read and dreamed, but had never expected to behold, was suddenly converted into Mr. Samuel Smith, the assistant at a cheap shop. The junior partner in a slippery firm of some three-weeks existence. The dignified evanishment of the hero of Oak Lodge on this unexpected recognition could only be equalled by that of a furtive dog with a considerable kettle at his tail. All the hopes of the Mulditons were destined at once to melt away, like the lemon-ices at a company's dinner. All Max was still to them as distant as the North Pole, and Mr. Reza had as much chance of a husband as Captain Ross had of the North West Passage. Years have elapsed since the occurrence of this dreadful morning. The daisies have thrice-bloomed on Camberwell Green. The sparrows have thrice-repeated their vernal chirps in Camberwell Grove. But the Miss Mulditons are still unmated. Mr. Reza's case is more desperate than ever, but Flamwell is yet in the zenith of his reputation, and the family have the same pre-delectation, and the family have the same pre-delectation for aristocratic personages with an increased aversion to anything. No. End of Chapter 5 of Tales from the Sketches by Boz. Chapter 6 of Tales from the Sketches by Boz. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Simon Evers. Sketches by Boz by Charles Dickens. Illustrations by George Cookshank. Chapter 6 of Tales. The Black Vale. One winter's evening, towards the close of the year 1800, or within a year or two of that time, a young medical practitioner, recently established in business, was seated by a cheerful fire in his little parlour, listening to the wind which was beating the rain in pattering drops against the window, or rumbling dismally in the chimney. The night was wet and cold. He'd been walking through mud and water the whole day, and was now comfortably reposing in his dressing-gown and slippers, more than half asleep and less than half awake, revolving a thousand of matters in his wandering imagination. First he thought how hard the wind was blowing, and how the cold, sharp rain would be at that moment beating in his face if he were not comfortably housed at home. Then his mind reverted to his annual Christmas visit to his native place and dearest friends. He thought how glad they would all be to see him, and how happy it would make rose, if he could only tell her that he'd found a patient at last, and hoped to have more, and to come down again in a few months' time and marry her, and take her home to gladden his lonely fireside and stimulate him to fresh exertions. Then he began to wonder when his first patient would appear, or whether he was destined by a special dispensation of providence, never to have any patients at all.  There was a hand upon his shoulder, but it was neither soft nor tiny. Its owner, being a corpulent, round-headed boy, who in consideration of the sum of one shilling per week and his food, was let out by the parish to carry medicine and messages. As there was no demand for the medicine, however, and no necessity for the messages, he usually occupied his unemployed hours, averaging fourteen a day, in abstracting peppernip drops, taking animal nourishment, and going to sleep. "'A lady, sir, a lady!' whispered the boy, rising his master with a shake. "'What lady?' cried our friend, starting up not quite certain that his dream was an illusion, and half expecting that it might be Rose herself. "'What lady? Where?' "'There, sir!' replied the boy, pointing to the glass door leading into the surgery, with an expression of alarm which the very unusual apparition of a customer might have tended to excite. The surgeon looked towards the door, and started himself for an instant on beholding the appearance of his unlooked-for visitor. It was a singularly tall woman, dressed in deep mourning, and standing so close to the door that her face almost touched the glass. The upper part of her figure was carefully muffled in a black shawl, as if for the purpose of concealment, and her face was shrouded by a thick black veil. She stood perfectly erect. Her figure was drawn up to its full height, and though the surgeon felt that the eyes beneath the veil were fixed on him, she stood perfectly motionless, and evinced by no gesture whatever the slightest consciousness of his having turned towards her. "'Do you wish to consult me?' he inquired, with some hesitation, holding open the door. It opened inwards, and therefore the action did not alter the position of the figure, which still remained motionous on the same spot. She slightly inclined her head in token of acquiescence. "'Pray walk in,' said the surgeon. The figure moved a step forward, and then turning its head in the direction of the boy, to his infinite horror, appeared to hesitate. "'Leave the room, Tom,' said the young man, addressing the boy whose large round eyes had been extended to their utmost width during this brief interview.  The boy drew a green curtain across the glass part of the door, retired into the surgery, closed the door after him, and immediately applied one of his large eyes to the keyhole on the other side. The surgeon drew a chair to the far, and motioned to the visitor to a seat. The mysterious figure slowly moved towards it. As the blaze shone upon the black dress, the surgeon observed that the bottom of it was saturated with mud and rain. "'You are very wet,' he said. "'I am,' said the stranger, in a low, deep voice. "'And you are ill?' added the surgeon, compassionately, for the tone was out of a person in pain. "'I am,' was the reply, very ill, not bodily, but mentally. "'It is not for myself or on my own behalf,' continued the stranger, that I come to you. "'If I laboured under bodily disease, I should not be out alone at such an hour or on such a night as this.  "'It is for another that I beseech your aid, sir. I may be mad to ask it for him, I think I am. But, night after night, through the long dreary hours of watching and weeping, the thought has been ever present to my mind. And though even I see the hopelessness of human assistance evading him, the bare thought of laying him in his grave without it makes my blood run cold. And a shudder, such as the surgeon well knew art could not produce, trembled through the speaker's frame. There was a desperate earnestness in this woman's manner that went to the young man's heart. He was young in his profession and had not yet witnessed enough of the miseries which had daily presented before the eyes of its members to have grown comparatively callous to human suffering. "'If,' he said, rising hastily, the person of whom you speak be in so hopeless a condition as you describe, not a moment is to be lost. I will go with you instantly. Why did you not obtain medical advice before? Because it would have been useless before. Because it is useless even now,' replied the woman, clasping her hands passionately. The surgeon gazed for a moment on the black veil, as if to ascertain the expression of the features beneath it. Its thickness, however, rendered such a result impossible. "'You are ill,' he said gently, although you do not know it. The fever which has enabled you to bear without feeling it the fatigue you have evidently undergone is burning within you now.  Compose yourself for a few moments, and then tell me as calmly as you can what the disease of the patient is and how long he has been ill. When I know what it is necessary I should know to render my visit serviceable to him. I am ready to accompany you.' The stranger lifted the glass of water to her mouth without raising the veil. Put it down again untasted, and burst into tears. "'I know,' she said, sobbing aloud, that what I say to you now seems like the ravings of fever. I have been told so before less kindly than by you. I am not a young woman, and they do say that as life steers on towards its final close, the last short remnant worthness, as it may seem to all beside, is dearer to its possessor than all the years have gone before, connected though they may be with a recollection of old friends long since dead, and young ones, children perhaps who have fallen off from, and forgotten one as complete as if they had died too. My natural term of life cannot be many years longer, and should be dear on that account, but I would lay it down without a sigh, with cheerfulness, with joy, if what I tell you now were only false or imaginary. Tomorrow morning he of whom I speak will be, I know, though I faint think otherwise, beyond the reach of human aid, and yet tonight, though he is in deadly peril, you must not see and could not serve him. I am unwilling to increase your distress, said the surgeon, after a short pause, by making any comment on what you have just said or appearing desirous to investigate a subject you are so anxious to conceal, but there is an inconsistency in your statement which I cannot reconcile with probability. This person is dying tonight, and I cannot see him where my assistance might possibly avail. You apprehend it will be useless to-morrow, and yet you would have me see him then.  God help me! exclaimed the woman, weeping bitterly. How can I hope strangers will believe what appears incredible even to myself? You will not see him then, sir? she added, rising suddenly. I did not say that I declined to see him, replied the surgeon, but I warn you that if you persist in this extraordinary procrastination, and the individual dies, a fearful responsibility rests with you. The responsibility will rest heavily somewhere, replied the stranger bitterly. Whatever responsibility rests with me, I am content to bear and ready to answer. As I incur none, continued the surgeon, by exceeding to your request, I will see him in the morning, if you leave me the address. At what hour can he be seen? Nine, replied the stranger. You must excuse my pressing these inquiries, said the surgeon, but is he in your charge now? He is not, was the rejoinder. Then, if I gave you instructions for his treatment through the night, you could not assist him. The woman wept bitterly, as she replied. I could not. Finding that there was but little prospect of obtaining more information by prolonging the interview, and anxious to spare the woman's feelings, which, subdued at first by a violent effort, were now irrepressible and most painful to witness. The surgeon repeated his promise of calling in the morning at the appointed hour. His visitor, after giving him a direction to an obscure part of Woolworth, left the house in the same mysterious manner in which he had entered it. It will be readily believed that so extraordinary a visit produced a considerable impression on the mind of the young surgeon, and that he speculated a great deal and a very little purpose on the possible circumstances of the case. In common with the generality of people he had often heard and read of singularly instances in which a presentiment of death, at a particular day or even minute, had been entertained and realised. At one moment he was inclined to think that the present might be such a case, but then it occurred to him that all the anecdotes of the kind he had ever heard were of persons who had been troubled with the foreboding of their own death. This woman, however, spoke of another person, a man, and it was impossible to suppose that a mere dream or delusion of fancy would induce her to speak of his approaching dissolution with such terrible certainty as she had spoken. He could not be that the man was to be murdered in the morning, and that the woman, originally a consenting party and bound to secrecy by an oath, had relented, and though unable to prevent the commission of some outrage on the victim, had determined to prevent his death, if possible, by the timely iptiposition of medical aid. The idea of such things happening within two miles of the metropolis appeared too wild and preposterous to be entertained beyond the instant. Then his original impression that the woman's intellects were disordered, recurred, and as it was the only mode of solving the difficulty with any degree of satisfaction, he obstinately made up his mind to believe that she was mad. Certain misgivings upon this point, however, stole upon his thoughts of the time, and presented themselves again and again through the long, dull course of a sleepless night, during which, in spite of all his efforts of the contrary, he was unable to banish the black veil from his disturbed imagination. The back part of Woolworth, at its greatest distance from town, is a straggling, miserable place enough, even in these days. But five and thirty years ago the greater portion of it was little better than a dreary waist, inhabited by a few scattered people of questionable character, whose poverty prevented their living in any better neighbourhood, or whose pursuits and mode of life rendered in a very poor manner, or whose pursuits and mode of life rendered its solitude desirable. Very many of the houses which had since sprung up on all sides were not built until some years afterwards, and the great majority, even of those which were sprinkled about at irregular intervals, were of the rudest to most miserable description. The appearance of the place through which he walked in the morning was not calculated to raise the spirits of the young surgeon, or to dispel any feeling of zandhati or depression which the singular kind of visit he was about to make had awakened. Striking off from the high-road, his way lay across a marshy common through irregular lanes, with here and there a ruinous, dismantled cottage, fast falling to pieces with decay and neglect. A stunted tree or pool of stagnant water rose into a sluggish action by the heavy rain of the preceding night, skirted the path occasionally. And now and then a miserable patch of garden ground, with a few old boards knocked together for a summer-house, and old palings perfectly mended with stakes pilfered from the neighbouring edges, bore testimony at once to the poverty of the inhabitants, and the little scruple they entertained in appropriating the property of other people to their own use. Occasionally a filthy-looking woman would make her appearance from the door of a dirty house to empty the contents of some cooking utensil into the gutter in front, or to scream after a little slip-shot girl who contrived to stagger a few yards from the door under the weight of a sallow infant almost as big as herself. But scarcely anything was staring around, and so much of the prospectus could be faintly traced through the cold, damp mist which hung heavily over it, presented a lonely and dreary appearance, perfectly in keeping with the obricks we've described. After plodding wearily through the mud and mire, making many inquiries to the place to which he'd been directed, and receiving as many contradictory and unsatisfactory replies in return, the young man at length arrived before the house which had been pointed out to him as the object of his destination. It was a small, low building, one story above the ground, with even a more desolate and unpromising exterior than any had yet passed. An old yellow curtain was closely drawn across the window upstairs, and the parlour-shutters were closed, but not fastened. The house was detached from any other, and as it stood at an angle of a narrow lane, there was no other habitation in sight. When we say that the surgeon hesitated and walked a few paces beyond the house before he could prevail upon himself to lift the knocker, we say nothing that need raise a smile upon the face of the boldest reader. The police of London were a very different body in that day. The isolated position of the suburbs, when the rage for building and the progress of improvement had not yet begun to connect them with the main body of the city and its environs, rendered many of them, and this in particular, a place of resort for the worst and most depraved characters. Even the streets and the gayest parts of London were imperfectly lighted at that time, and such places as these were left entirely to the mercy of the moon and stars. The chances of detecting desperate characters or of tracing them to their haunts were thus rendered very few, and their offences naturally increased in boldness, as the consciousness of comparative security became the more impressed upon them by daily experience. Added to these considerations, it must be remembered that the young man had spent some time in the public hospitals of the metropolis, and although neither Burke nor Bishop had then gained a horrible notoriety, his own observation might have suggested to him how easily the atrocities to which the former has since given his name might be committed. Be this as it may, whatever reflection made him hesitate. He did hesitate. But being a young man of strong mind and great personal courage, it was only for an instant. He stepped briskly back, and knocked gently at the door. A low whispering was audible immediately afterwards, as if some person at the end of the passage were conversing stealthily with another on the landing above. It was succeeded by the noise of a pair of heavy boots upon the bare floor.  Walk in, sir, he said in a low tone. The surgeon did say, and the man having secured the door again by the chain, led the way to a small back parlour at the extremity of the passage. Am I in time? Too soon, replied the man. The surgeon turned hastily round with a gesture of astonishment not un-mixed with alarm, which he found it impossible to repress. If you'll step in here, sir, said the man who had evidently noticed the action. If you'll step in here, sir, you won't be detained to five minutes, I assure you. The surgeon at once walked into the room. The man closed the door, and left him, alone. It was a little cold room with no other furniture than two deal-chairs and a table of the same material. A handful of fire unguided by an offender was burning in the grate, which brought out the damp, if it served no more comfortable purpose, for the unwholesome moisture was stealing down the walls in long slug-like tracks. The window, which was broken and patched in many places, looked into a small enclosed piece of ground almost covered with water. Not a sound was to be heard, either within the house or without. The young surgeon sat down by the fireplace to await the result of his first professional visit. He had not remained in this position many minutes when the noise of some approaching vehicle struck his ear. It stopped. The street door was opened. A low talking succeeded, accompanied by the shuffling noise of footsteps along the passage and on the stairs, as if two or three men were engaged in carrying some heavy body to the room above. The creaking of the stairs, a few seconds afterwards, announced that the newcomers, having completed their task, whatever it was, were leaving the house. The door was again closed, and the former silence was restored. Another five minutes had elapsed, and the surgeon resolved to explore the house in search of someone to whom he might make his errand known. When the room door opened, and his last night's visitors dressed in exactly the same manner with the veil lowered as before, motioned him to advance. The singular height of her form, coupled with the circumstance of her not speaking, caused the idea to pass across his brain for an instant, that it might be a man disguised in woman's attire. The hysteric sobs which issued from beneath the veil, and the convulsive attitude of grief of the whole figure, however, had once exposed the absurdity of the suspicion. And he hastily followed. The woman led the way upstairs to the front room, and paused at the door to let him enter first. It was scantily furnished with an old deal-box of few chairs, and a tent bed-stead, without hangings or cross-rails, which was covered with a patchwork counterpane. The dim light admitted through the skirting which she had noticed from the outside, rendered the objects in the room so indistinct, and communicated to all of them so uniform a hue, that he did not at first perceive the object on which his eye had once rested when the woman rushed frantically past him and flung herself on her knees by the bedside, stretched upon the bed, closely enveloped in a linen wrapper, and covered with blankets, lay a human form, stiff, and motionless. The head and face, which were those of a man, were uncovered, saved by a bandage which passed over the head and under the chin. The eyes were closed, the left arm lay heavily across the bed, and the woman held with the passive hand. The surgeon gently pushed the woman aside and took the hand in his. My God! he exclaimed, letting it fall involuntarily. The man is dead. The woman started to her feet and beat her hands together. Oh, don't say so, sir. She exclaimed, with a burst of passion, amounting almost a frenzy. Oh, don't say so, sir. I can't bear it. Men have been brought to life before when unskillful people have given them up for lost. And men have died who might have been restored if proper means have been resorted to. Don't let him lie here, sir, without one effort to save him. This very moment life may be passing away. Do try, sir. Do for heaven's sake. And while speaking she hurriedly chafed first the forehead and then the breast of the senseless form before her, and then wildly beat the cold hands which, when she ceased to hold them, fell listlessly and heavily back on the covalet. It is no use, my good woman, said the surgeon soothingly, as he withdrew his hand from the man's breast. Stay, undraw that curtain. Why? said the woman, starting up. Undraw that curtain, repeated the surgeon in an agitated tone. I darken the room on purpose, said the woman, throwing herself before him, as he rose to undroid. Oh, sir, have pity on me. If it can be of no use, and he is really dead, do not expose that form to other eyes than mine. This man died no natural or easy death, said the surgeon. I must see the body. With a motion so sudden that the woman hardly knew that he had slipped from beside her, he tore open the curtain, admitted the full light of day, and returned to the bedside. There has been violence here, he said, pointing towards the body, and gazing intently on the face from which the black veil was now, for the first time, removed. In the excitement of a minute before, the female had thrown off the monitor veil, and now stood with her eyes fixed upon him. Features were those of a woman about fifty who had once been handsome. Sorrow and weeping had left traces upon them which had not time itself would ever have produced without their aid.  There has been violence here, said the surgeon, preserving his searching glance. There has, replied the woman, this man has been murdered. That I call to witness he has, said the woman, passionately, pitilessly, inhumanly murdered. By whom, said the surgeon, seizing the woman by the arm. Look at the butcher's marks, and then ask me, she replied. The surgeon turned his face towards the bed and bent over the body which now lay full in the light of the window. The throat was swollen, and a livid mark encircled it. The truth flashed suddenly upon him. This is one of the men who were hanged this morning, he exclaimed, turning away with a shadow. It is, replied the woman, with a cold, unmeaning stare. Who was he, inquired the surgeon. My son rejoined the woman, and fell senseless at his feet. It was true. A companion, equally guilty with himself, had been acquitted for want of evidence, and this man had been left for death and executed. To recount the circumstances of the case of this distant period must be unnecessary, and might give pain to some person still alive. The history was an everyday one. The mother was a widow without friends or money, and had denied herself as necessary as to bestow them on her orphan boy. That boy, unmindful of her prayers and forgetful of the sufferings she had endured for him, incessant anxiety of mind and voluntary starvation of body, had plunged into a career of dissipation and crime. And this was the result. His own death by the hangman's hands, and his mother's shame and incurable insanity. For many years after this occurrence, and when profitable and arduous applications would have led many men to forget that such a miserable being existed, the young surgeon was a daily visitor at the side of the harmless mad woman, not only soothing her by his presence and kindness, but alleviating the rigor of her condition by pecuniary donations for her comfort and support, bestowed with no sparing hand. In the transient gleam of recollection and consciousness which preceded her death, a prayer for his welfare and protection, as fervent as mortal ever breath, rose from the lips of this poor, friendless creature. That prayer flew to heaven, and was heard. The blessings he was instrumental in conferring have been repaid to him a thousandfold. But, amid all the honours of rank and station which have since been heaped upon him, and which he has so well earned, he can have no reminiscence more gratifying to his heart than that connected with the black veil.


Welcome back Boilermakers to this episode of Boilermakers on the Street. It is spring semester 2022. Cannot even believe it. We're going to go around and chat with Boilermakers on the street. For a dollar, what are you most looking forward to for the 2022 spring semester? Passing my classes. Passing my classes. Okay. For a dollar, how are y'all planning on protecting Purdue the spring 2022 semester? Wearing a mask all the time everywhere, washing my hands. Same. Same. Love to hear it. Here's a dollar. For a dollar, what are you most looking forward to for the spring semester? Anything. Warmer weather. Warmer weather. Okay. Okay. So for a dollar, how are you planning on protecting Purdue the spring 2022 semester? Keeping my mask up at all times when I'm inside. Love to hear it. Here's your dollar. Thank you. Thanks for protecting Purdue. For a dollar, what are you most looking forward to for spring semester? Um, probably just seeing my friends for the last time in a while. Are you graduating? Yeah. Okay. Cool. Same here. Same here. For a dollar, how are you planning on protecting Purdue the spring 2022 semester? Wearing my mask and washing my hands. Love to hear it. Love to hear it. There you go. Thank you. For a dollar, how do you plan on protecting Purdue the spring 2022 semester? You know, just keeping my mask on, social distancing, trying not to get in massive groups, staying at home when I'm sick, all that. Heck yes. Love to hear it. Here's your dollar. Thanks, man. For a dollar, what are you most looking forward to for spring semester? Spring semester. Yeah. I'd say just learning new stuff. I feel like that's, that's a very wholesome answer. There you go. Hey, this is a man of education.


Hello everybody, E here. Welcome to a book tag. Not really a book tag. I guess it's an author tag, is what we'll call it. I'm going to be tagging several authors at the end of this video, but basically I just want to go over what's on your playlist. Even if you write to silence, let me know what's your preferred listening medium. Like I said, even if it is silence, let me know what it is in your own video. Maybe explain why. If it is just silence, maybe let me know why you can't write to it, is because you end up writing the lyrics, or you end up singing along and you can't focus. Let me know all that stuff too. So every single month I delete my entire, I have Amazon music. Every single month I delete all of my songs on the first of the month, and I go and I download new music for that month. This month, this is what I have on my phone, which isn't actually a phone, it's just a small tablet. In other words, I don't have phone service on it. So right now I have Audio Slave, their album, Audio Slave. I have Billie Eilish. I have two songs. One is from the 13 reasons why soundtrack. And one is a song called Bitches Broken Hearts. And then I have her albums Don't Smile at Me and her new one, which is When We All Fall asleep, Where Do We Go? I especially love this one right now. Bad Guy, Zanny, and You Should See Me in a Crown are some of my favorites. Last month I was listening to Exclusively Slipknot and I came XIX. So whatever that would be in our own numerals, I would listen to that to get started writing every morning. Right now I am listening to You Should See Me in a Crown every single morning before I get started writing. Then I have Post Malone, both of his albums, the only ones he has out so far, Bear Bongs and Bentley, and the first one, which is Stony. And then I have All of Soundgarden's albums. So I have Bad Motor Finger. Let's see here. It says Bad Motor Finger, two discs, but I think it's the not the exclusive, but the extended edition because it has Rusty Cage Studio outtakes. It has demo stuff, all that stuff. And then I have Disc 3 for Pad Motor Finger. And I'm not exactly sure what's on that one. I just listen to these things. I just hit play on my playlist and let it go. And then Bad Motor Finger Disc 4. It's all the same song. It looks like you have live, you have demo versions, and you have studio outtakes. Then I have Down on the Upside, which has Pretty Noose on it. Tremendous, tremendous song. Louder Than Love, which I like, Hands All Over. That's a good one in Power Trip. Then Super Unknown, My Wave, Fella on Black Days, Black Hole Sun, Spoon Man, all terrific, terrific songs. Then I have, that's the Super Deluxe Edition with, it has two discs. There's alternate versions, live versions, all that stuff. It has actually three discs. Let's see, it has four discs. It has four discs, which is funny even saying discs, because all this stuff is digital. Next I have Tele Phantasm, which I didn't even know. I just downloaded all of Soundgarden's albums. I don't think I've ever actually paid attention to what songs these are. I don't think I've actually paid attention to this album period. I didn't even know about it until right now. That's how bad it is. If you want to go back even farther before Slipknot, I had all of Tom Waits' stuff, like 400 songs. I think I did that for January. In February, it was a mixture of Metallica, Megadeth, and Slayer. Then in March, I did Slipknot exclusively. Let's see here. Even the Tele Phantasm one has two discs. It's the Deluxe version of that also. Finally, I have Stevie Ray Vaughn's, the Complete Epic Recordings Collection Studio. It's got great stuff on here. Pride and Joy, Texas Flood, Rude Mood, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Dirty Pool, Couldn't Stand the Heat, Sorry, Couldn't Stand the Weather, Voodoo Child. So many great songs on this album. There's a total of, looks like, four discs, I guess? Scratch instead. Anyways, so that's what's on my playlist for this month. I don't know why I have such an eclectic group of things, mainly because I don't have one single project I'm working on right now. I'm kind of bouncing around doing novella, short stories, that kind of thing. I'm just basically sprinting with my buddy Gregor Zane. He's also an author. I've been doing that, and it's one of those months that I just don't know what I want to listen to, so I downloaded a whole bunch of stuff. If you guys want to see or hear what I downloaded, what I download next month, let me know down there in the comments below. But now to the tag portion of our broadcast. I'm going to tag R. St. Clair. She has a wonderful YouTube channel. She's also an author. I love her book hauls. I'm also going to tag JB Taylor. He does reviews and stuff. I'll link to all these channels down there in the doobly-doo. I'm going to tag Jen Bernardini. Erica from Erica's Bookish World. And let's see here last but not least. I don't know if he'll do it or not, but maybe we can get some hype down there in the comments. Chad Lutzky. I'd love to hear what you listen to while you're writing. But until next time, I have been E. You have been U. This has been a book tag author tag video. I'll talk to you guys later. Bye bye.