US authorities are still pursuing the extradition of Julian Assange to face charges of espionage. Back in January, a judge blocked Assange's extradition. That was on the basis that Assange was likely to kill himself if he was held under the harsh conditions of the US prison system. But the US are disputing that they're appealing the decision and they want to appeal the decision on the basis that the expert witness, the psychiatrist who said that Julian Assange was at risk of suicide are suggesting he was unreliable because he didn't disclose something about Julian Assange, which was that when he was in the Ecuadorian embassy, he fathered two children. The lawyer says he kept that to himself because it was an issue of privacy for Julian Assange. A judge today has ruled that that does potentially undermine the expert witness. The Guardian report delivering the latest Lord Justice Holroyd said it was very unusual for an appeal court to have to consider evidence from an expert that had been accepted by a lower court, but also found to have been misleading. Even if the expert's actions had been deemed an understandable human response designed to protect the privacy of Assange's partner and children. So the judge there saying, yes, I don't think the expert witnesses has necessarily behaved in a immoral way. They just wanted to maintain the privacy of Julian Assange, but the fact they didn't reveal this does put in question the reliability of the other evidence they came, which was about Julian Assange's mental health. All of this means, and this is what I find quite depressing, that this October we're going to have another court case, which is based on quite how suicidal is Julian Assange. I think the fact that this is the basis of the court case, obviously not blaming the lawyers here. The lawyers have to use whatever means they possibly can to stop a whistleblower being tried for espionage or credit to the lawyers. But the fact that our legal system means that instead of discussing freedom of speech and discussing the fact that we are extraditing someone who's done journalism for espionage, they're discussing whether or not quite how suicidal is. I find that incredibly depressing. Let's go to the lawyer for the US because she makes it quite clear, I suppose, how grim this all is. Claire Dobbin is her name. She said, he has not made the sort of serious attempt on his life or have the history of serious self-harm seen in other cases. It really requires a mental illness of a type that the ability to resist suicide has been lost. Part of the appeal will be that Mr. Assange did not have a mental illness that came close to being of that nature and that degree. Dobbin also argued that Assange proved he was able to withstand dire conditions by remaining trapped in the Ecuadorian Embassy for seven years. I don't feel like I'm in a position to adjudicate as to whether the judge has made a reasonable decision here. I don't have the experience in in jurisprudence. What I find grim though is that when we should have an issue which is based on freedom of speech, which is based on the right to protect whistleblowers, instead, we are saying, oh, the guy should go to America unless there is zero chance that he won't kill himself.  Otherwise, he gets extradited. It seems just completely bizarre to me. How do you test this hypothesis?  And then if he kills himself in a US prison, oh, sorry, we were wrong. You have an independent assessment by a professional who's familiar with these things, which is precisely what happened. So you're obviously right. The nuances of the case are above our pay grade. But clearly, the politics, the whole thing thinks. There is an issue in talking about suicide. And of course, we've had multiple high-profile suicides in the US prison system in recent years. Most recently, of course, Jeffrey Epstein. So the idea that, well, the last time you had a very high-profile inmate, they allegedly killed themselves. Why would Mr. Assange be any different? Specifically if they're of a politically sensitive nature, I think is a good one. The suicide rate in American prisons and jails is very high. It's very, very high. And as is self-harm, I think about 20% of people in the US prison system are assassins having profound mental health issues. So obviously, he's been through a great deal of mental stress. You don't have to like the guy. You might think he's done wrong. You might think he should be incarcerated. But I don't think anybody would dispute the fact he's in clear emotional mental distress. That's visible just from his appearance. He's obviously been through a very unique thing. But I am worried as well, Michael, we're talking about his case in a completely wrong way. We aren't talking about the political substance of what's happened. It's not to blame the lawyers that this is not what they're arguing about. This is a problem with British law. But what do you think should be being argued in court right now if we live in a more just world? Of course.  I mean, that's the case. But my point is, from a political standpoint, it's a shame that we're not talking about the substance of what this man's done. And obviously, this is meant to be about justice. Right now, the Taliban is recapturing Afghanistan. Britain, the United States and their allies, when they're 20 years ago, actually a month after 9-11, effectively, and we've been there for 20 years, we've spent, Britain only spent about 35 billion, which is obviously an immense amount of money. It's about £2,000 per family per household. But together, $2 trillion was spent in Afghanistan. 100,000 Afghan civilians died. I think more than 2,000 US combat personnel died, more than 430, 50 British combat personnel died. Many more got PTSD, lost limbs, et cetera, et cetera. Profound devastating loss. And people like Julian Assange and WikiLeaks were trying to expose the military war machine, the commercial military war machine, behind that intervention, behind war in Iraq, and show, actually, they didn't go there with good intentions, generally speaking, and they certainly weren't blamed by the book. And WikiLeaks exposed, for instance, disgusting attacks on civilians, I think things that border on war crimes, et cetera, forms of illegal detention. I don't know specifically about Afghanistan, but most certainly in Iraq. And that war machine can't allow Julian Assange to get away with it. And so we are now living in a world where the goodies, the people who uphold justice, are the ones that went to Afghanistan spent $2 trillion. Actually, nothing changed, except now the Taliban have Humvees and Apache helicopters. They didn't 20 years ago. All right. And people might say, well, they won't have them very long. They got shut down, or they'll be drone strikes, probably. But are they going to take Kabul and Kandahar first? Yes, I imagine. So who are the good guys? Julian Assange who exposed that? All these other people who profit from war. They profited from selling all this military hardware, and they're going to profit from the machines now destroying the military hardware being used by the Taliban. And I think there's a certain sort of poetic, poetic element to it. I don't like to use that word, but I think that's what it is. These events right now in Afghanistan are ongoing. The government of Afghanistan is collapsing in the face of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, the Taliban. While Julian Assange is potentially being extradited back to the United States. And this is the argument we're having.  What a toxic civilization we are living in, Michael. Utterly barbaric and toxic.   They'll be looking, and I'm sorry to use the F bomb in front of our audience, but that's exactly what it is. And they'll be looking at the first 20 years of the 21st century, culminating in our defeat in Central Asia and the Middle East, culminating in what's happening to Julian Assange. But God willing, he doesn't go to the United States and he's left free. And they will say, wow, they spent trillions of dollars destroying Central Asia, but no particular reason, literally for the status quo ante. Actually, no, that's not true. We did do one thing, which is massively increase opium production in Afghanistan. That's the legacy. Instead of putting that money into climate change and transitioning our economy away from fossil fuels and the people that did it with the good guys, the people that did it with the good guys and the bad mean guy was Julian Assange, enemy of national security.  God willing, in our lifetimes.


Ranger Bill, warrior of the woodland, struggling against extreme odds, traveling dangerous trails, fighting the many enemies of nature. This is the job of the guardian of the forest, Ranger Bill. Pouring rain, freezing cold, blistering heat, snow, floods, bears, rattlesnakes, mountain lions. Yes, all this in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done. It's a bright sunny day in Naughty Pine. Henry and I are at headquarters trying to clean up the continuous plague of paperwork that seems to find its way to my desk, somehow or other.  Everything is quiet and routine. Oh yes, the name of this story is The Deep Country. Paperwork, paperwork. It seems just about all I get to do around here. I'm not an armchair Ranger. I should be out on the trail doing the work I'm supposed to do. Yes, sir. I think I'm going to move headquarters way out into the hills where the postman can't find it. That'll get rid of this pesky paperwork. Yes, sir. First we make out a report, and then we have to make out another report to tell what the first one means. Then we have to report on the report that we already reported on. And if we fill out the report incorrectly, we have to make six more reports telling why the report of the report in which we reported was wrong. Then we have to make out a new report reporting again what we originally reported but shouldn't have reported the way we reported it. Yes, sir. If you say yes, sir, once more Henry Scott. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. What's the difference? Go ahead, belt me. I thought I won't have to file this stack of papers. I wondered how long you could go before you got paper writers too. You mean you're not going to smack me one? No. I might put you in the hospital, and then I'd have to file all the reports myself. You should get off so easy. Coward. Come on. Let's make some excitement, huh, Bill? Uh-oh. Keep your shirt on. Maybe this is it. We should live so long, man. Hello, Ranger headquarters. Bill Jefferson speaking. Yes? Well, I don't see any reason to get excited about it, Walt. No, I really don't. Well, perhaps they stopped over somewhere and be along in half a day or so. Well, call me tomorrow if they don't show up. Oh, OK. And Walt, quiet down, will you? Lots of folks have been half a day overdue. Yeah. Goodbye. No excitement? No, Bill, no excitement. Colonel and Mrs. Anders are half a day overdue from their vacation, and Walt's all lathered up about it. It's their vacation, isn't it? Besides, if the Colonel wants to come back late, who's to say he can't? He's the top man of the whole Western District. Everything west of the prairie lands. Oh, Walt's all right. He just gets too excited. That's all. He's afraid the Colonel's going to miss a big conference tomorrow afternoon. Oh, they'll be home soon. Maybe they're there now, for all we know. Yeah. Could be. Let's go out for a walk, huh? Hey, did I ever tell you the story about the two barbers? No. You tell us something. You're asking for it, Gray Wolf. Well, but do you not tell me anything new, Henry? Well, this one barber always drank a glass of water after he shaved. And the other barber asked him, why did he? Why did he? If it's so funny, you tell us maybe, huh? Come on, stop it. Tell us. Do you know why he drank water after shaving?  You probably left out the punchline of the joke. Come on, what's so funny, old timer? I've got it, fellas. Hello, Ranger headquarters. What was it, Walt? Time that you wouldn't listen. I knew from the start. Walt, just a minute. Well, you don't have to yell. Take two deep breaths. Why? I'm breathing all right. Just take a moment. Just keep breathing that way until I get there, and you won't have a nervous collapse. Never mind. I'm flying down right away. So hold the fort. Goodbye. All excited? Excited. That's not the word for it. I thought he was going to blow a fuse. Young fella can sure get head up in a hurry. That's why the colonel took him into his office. Well, just couldn't keep him getting up a full head of steam, pronto. Well, we just couldn't use him in the field. He gets just like a bandied rooster. It hasn't had a scrap for six months. I feel sorry for Walt. He's a good man otherwise. That's right, Gray Wolf. Well, let's get packed and into the plane. Henry, call Tommy in to take over the office while we're gone. Sure. I take it the colonel and Mrs. Andrews haven't showed up. Huh? What's this? We'll tell you about it in the plane, old timer. All right, let's go. I want to get there before Walt has a heart attack. No time for frivolity. What took you so long? Colonel and Mrs. Andrews might be hurt badly. And we are doing a thing about it. They might have been held up and taken prisoners or hostages so the law won't get the robbers. Maybe they had an accident and they're bleeding to death on the highway somewhere. Maybe they got kidnapped and we'll get their ransom notes soon. Oh, this is terrible, terrible. Colonel Andrews and his wife in danger. Walt, calm down. That's better, sonny. You got to come up for air once in a while. All right. But you'll be sorry you took this so lightly. You just wait and see. Walt, I need some information. Are you going to supply it or do I have to waste time getting it the hard way? No. I'll tell you what you want to know. Where did the Colonel and Mrs. Andrews go on their vacation? San Francisco. They were going to spend some time there. With friends or at a hotel? Hotel. You know the name of the hotel? Yes, I got it written down somewhere. I'll find it. Now we're getting somewhere. Why? I think we should worry more about Walt and Colonel Andrews. Operator, this is the Ranger Bill Jeffs. I need an emergency connection with San Francisco. Yes. I'll have more information in a minute. Thank you. If they checked out a hotel, then we know they start for home. Yes, you've got to narrow this down as quickly as possible. Colonel Andrews has that big meeting this afternoon. Hey, where's Walt? Oh, I get him. Thank you, Colonel. That man has got to learn to control his blood pressure. Thank you very much, Mr. Summers. Yes, sir, you've been a tremendous help. Goodbye, sir. Operator, hold the line open for a few minutes, please. Thank you. What hotel say Bill? They checked out early yesterday morning. I told you this is no good. Something's happened to them. Something terrible. Take it easy, Walt. What Bill think? What do you aim to do now, sonny? I'm going to talk to the California State Police. They may have an accident report. If not, I'll file a missing persons on them. Stumpy, you call Cal and have him put out a missing persons on them. Now, Gray Wolf, call Tom and tell him I want every available man down here in Prandtl. Call Ralph and tell him the same thing. All right, away. We'll get moving like one of them there being jackrabbits. What do you want me to do? Sit tight, Henry, and don't let Walt's imagination run away with him. Right. Operator, I want to talk to the California State Police headquarters. I knew at the minute it happened. I just had a feeling. Tell them this is terrible, terrible, I tell you. How can an experienced man like the Colonel just up and vanish? They've been kidnapped, that's what. Walt, please sit down. I can't. You know that as well as I do, Bill. I can't sit still. You know how excited I get, and you don't give me any consideration at a time like this under this terrible strain. I've got to do something. Well, go take a walk. For a long run. So, now you don't want me around to help out, eh? Figure I know too much. Well, you fellows have delayed too long already. Walt, you know that's a lot of hot air.  I can pace up and down wherever I want. I'm nervous. I know. You pace wherever you want, as long as it isn't in front of me. Now go, please. Aren't you kind of rough on him, Bill?  Sometimes you just can't give sympathy to people who are near hysteria. Only makes them worse. Sounds cruel, I know, but in the final analysis, you're really helping. Missing person not as yet? Not a peep, Grey Wolf. Ah. Here's a sandwich and coffee, you fellas wanted. Thanks, something. Now what are we going to do now, young fella? Wait. Yes, we've got to give the missing persons reports time to go through the police system. So all we can do is wait. At that time, every available ranger in this part of the country should be here, except for the skeleton crew who's left behind. Are you going to take Colonel Anders' place at the meeting if he hasn't been found by then? Nope. My job is to find the colonel and Mrs. Anders, and that's what we're going to do. Attention, please, man. Each one of you has a map and now it is marked your area of search. Yes, I know. Now, I want you to be particularly conscious of places where accidents could occur. Look for tire marks, smashed car, and so forth. Check every doctor, hospital, and first aid station, and police department in your area. I want this to be a real search, men. Not one stone is to be left unturned. But don't search foolishly. Someone somewhere is seen, the colonel and his wife. I want those people found and found quickly. Understand? Yeah, I know. Fine. Henry and I will be right here at the radio constantly. Now, get going and good hunting. Well, here's hoping. Yes, pal. I'm beginning to think that we ought to do some praying. Looks like this is going to be a job for the Lord because we are rapidly using up our human resources. Why, when I told Walt to take a walk, he sure did. I wonder where he went. To the nearest telephone, it looks like. What do you mean? He's coming up to walk with Sue Anders. Oh, no. See for yourself. Oh, why did he do that? I didn't want Sue to know about her parents until we were sure they really are missing. Oh, Walt has put his foot in it this time and he won't get it back out before I spring the jaws of the trap. I know what you mean. He's sure taken things upon himself. Yeah, we might as well get ready for this storm. They're entering the building now. Instead of one, now you'll have two of them on your neck. Dad has a dependable assistant because you wouldn't even give me the time of day, Bill Jefferson. Just who do you think you are anyway to keep this from me? You have your nerve. My mother and father might be dead for all you know and you haven't the courtesy to tell me what's going on. My father will hear about this when he returns, if he returns. Like Walt says they're probably kidnapped or something worse. Well, why don't you say something? I'm all out of breath listening to you, young lady. Well, you used to talk like a gentleman but now you don't even do that. What's gotten into you, Bill Jefferson? You tell him, Sue. He won't listen to me. He says I make him nervous. Walt, you overstepped your authority to get Susan here. Well, that's a fine way to talk. Just what do you mean? I suppose you weren't even going to bother to let me know my parents are in danger. Are they? Well, that's what Walt said. Walt talks too much. See, there he goes again, picking on me. First, I make him nervous. Now, I talk too much. Well, don't you? It seems to me that we're wasting a lot of time talking about your hurt feelings which come as a result of Walt's overzealous efforts. We're doing everything we can to locate your folks, Sue. Oh, are you really? I've got a missing person report out on them in three states and 40 rangers from each district which makes 80 men out searching every nook and cranny for them. A lot of good that's going to do when they've been robbed and beaten or even worse. Who told you that? Walt did. He hasn't held a thing back. That's for sure. It's just possible, you know, that they could have had an automobile accident or a motor breakdown, or one of your parents could have been suddenly taken ill. The pressure of their current predicament has caused them to forget about notifying anyone of their whatabouts. How does that sound? There's a positive approach to the problem. Instead of the overworked results of one man's morbid imagination. Even entirely possible that nothing is wrong. That they just stopped off somewhere and sent a wire which was misdirected. Well, it does sound logical and certainly more cheerful. I don't think any such thing has happened. Bill's got a smooth tongue. He could talk his way out of a cave full of grizzly bears. Oh, don't you believe him, Susan? I tell you something terrible has happened and that's my firm and honest opinion. Bill, Greywell's calling in. Maybe he's got something hot. Let me have the mic, pal. Sure, here. Bill to Greywell. Bill to Greywell. Come in. Over. He crosses Big Bend Highway. Maybe we have hot lead. All right, Greywell. We're on our way. Over and out. I know where that is. Man alive! That's near the... Ow! What's the matter, pal? You stepped on my foot. Oh, excuse me. Come on, let's get out of the car and meet Greywell from the boys. Why aren't you going to invite me along? No, ma'am. Well, that's a fine thing. What am I expected to do while you're gone? Please go home. We'll notify you in a little while. Or you could stay here and listen to more of Walt's hair-raising tales of horror.  You mean you didn't want me to say anything about Greywell's call. I'm not close by the deep country. You guessed it, pal. I can understand why, too.  That's right. I'm sorry I had to step on your foot. That's all right. Maybe it'll teach me a lesson to keep my big catertribe shut. Hey, there's a couple of ranger cars right ahead by the gas station. Right. Now we'll find out just how hot this lead is. Let's have it, boys. This here fella is Cyrus Hallman, Bill. He says he might have seen Colonel Anders in the Mrs. Passby this way. Oh, hello, Cyrus. Howdy.  That's right. Do you think you might have seen the people in question? Well, could be. How long ago? Tolerable spell. Tolerable, huh? Could that be a whole day ago? Yep, could be. What kind of a car did they have? They weren't no regular cars, I recollect. One of them they're station wagons. He writes so far, Bill. Yeah, it sounds hopeful, Bill. What did the people look like? Didn't see them. You didn't see them? No. Well, how in the name of common sense did they pass this way? Paul saw them. He allowed about that ranger marker on the car. Well, knock me over with a feather. Why didn't you tell us this the first time? You didn't ask. No. It's all right, fellas. Cy, where's your father? Home. Where's that? This piece. Which road, Cy? That one. The old rim road? Yep. How far? Well, you could down by the big tree in the short rocks, right there. Listen, friend, how about showing us, huh? Got to tend the pumps. I'll leave a ranger here to tend the pumps. Come on, let's go talk to your pa. My good fellow, a man and a woman's life depends on your talking and talking quickly. I hope I don't have to pump you like a rusty pump just like I did your son. I don't think so. But what do you want to know? Did you or did you not see Colonel Anders and his wife? And if you did, where did they go from here? I've seen them. You saw the man in this picture? Yep. Where did they go from your gas station? That away. Which way? What road? And how long ago? Went back into the deep country. Went down a big bend. How long ago? Tolerable time ago. Maybe a day. Can't you remember exactly? Nope. It was some spell back. Thank you. Let's get back to the cars, fellas.  First Walt and Sue, and now those two slow-motion characters. Boy, you think it actually hurt them to talk? Yep. You said it, sonny. We didn't have to deal with people in this instant. We'd be better off. What's your next move? I don't like it. They're out there in the deep country. It's a miserable wilderness. Awfully hot. Stumpy, Grey Wolf, get your man into the deep country and begin searching. I'll call in all the other units to join the ground search. Henry, call for a helicopter. We'll search by air. Their car shouldn't be too difficult to spot. We need a Tom. Report. As long as rapidly as possible. Okay, Tom. Check another sector off the air search map, pal. Right. We should take us about a mile away from Big Bend Highway. Right. Grey Wolf has a report. Should I call him? Yeah, you better.  We find Mrs. Anders and Carr. You did? Where?   We mark place for you to land over and out. Oh, boy. They found Mrs. Anders. Oh, that's good work. The score is one found and one lost. What happened, Mrs. Anders? I don't know, Bill. Suddenly the car was without water. The colonel pulled in here to look for a certain rock specimen. And then we noticed the water was gone. I've been almost crazy with worry about the colonel. There, there, now. We'll find him all right. Don't worry. Grey Wolf, Stumpy, start tracking the colonel. Let me know as soon as you pick up his trail. We sure will, young fella. Now don't you fret, Mrs. Anders. We'll find him. Thank you, Stumpy. I know you will. I tried to get him to stay here and wait for help. So ghastly hot. But he wouldn't listen. Said he knew what he was doing. And that's the last I've seen of him. We find him plenty quick. Tom. Yes, sir. Stay with Mrs. Anders. Will you have a car brought in to tow out this one? You bet. Hey, Stumpy is signaling me. They picked up the colonel's trail. From the heat. He's slowed down now. Let's press on, fellas. Time's running short. And we should find him plenty quick now. Hey! Pulse is weak. Steady. He's exhaustion. Is that we? Better make sure he ain't snake bit. Well, I look already. He not have snake bite. Let's get him out of here and to the hospital. And home. Not the colonel's up and about again. You're not the only one, pal.  Precisely. I think you not forget about deep country for long time. Yeah, well, the deep country and the people involved will be deeply grooved in my mind for a long time. That was no idle statement, either. And Walt and Suhr on my mind for a long time. Strange how they let their mind and imagination run riot. Why, they even got to believing it was the truth. This ever happened to you? Well, I'll see you next week for more adventure with... Boys and girls, this is Ranger Bill back again for just a third of a minute with an extra word of thanks to you for joining us today. Hope you'll team up with the Rangers every week at this time when your local station gives us this chance to get together. See you then.


Springtime a la carte by O. Henry, read for Love Stories Vol. 2 by Wayne Cook. It was a day in March. Sarah never began a story this way when you write one. No opening could possibly be worse. It is an imaginative, flat, dry, and likely to consist of mere wind. But in this instance, it is allowable. For the following paragraph, which should have inaugurated the narrative, is too wildly extravagant and preposterous to be flaunted in the face of the reader without preparation. Sarah was crying over her bill affair. Think of a New York girl shedding tears on the menu card. To account for this, you will be allowed to guess that the lobsters were all out, or that she had sworn ice-cream off during Lent, or that she had ordered onions, or that she had just come from a hacket matinee. And then, all these theories being wrong, you will please let the story proceed. The gentleman who announced that the world was an oyster which he with his sword would open made a larger hit than he deserved. It is not difficult to open an oyster with a sword. But did you ever notice anyone trying to open the terrestrial bivalve with a typewriter? Like to wait for a dozen raw opened that way? Sarah had managed to pry apart the shells with her unhandy weapon far enough to nibble a wee bit at the cold and clammy world within. She knew no more shorthand than if she had been a graduate in stenography just let slip upon the world by a business college. So not being able to stenog, she could not enter that bright galaxy of office talent. She was a freelance typewriter, and canvassed for odd jobs of copying. The most brilliant and crowning feat of Sarah's battle with the world was the deal she made with Schuylenberg's home restaurant. The restaurant was next door to the old red brick in which she hall roomed. One evening after dining at Schuylenberg's forty cent, five course, table d'horte, served as fast as you can throw the five baseballs at the colored gentleman's head, Sarah took away with her the bill of fare. It was written in an almost unreadable script, neither English nor German, and so arranged that if you were not careful, you began with a toothpick and rice pudding, and ended with soup and the day of the week. The next day Sarah showed Schuylenberg a neat card on which the menu was beautifully typewritten, with avians temptingly marshaled under their right and proper heads, from hors d'oeuvres to not responsible for overcoats and umbrellas. Schuylenberg became a naturalized citizen on the spot. Before Sarah left him, she had him willingly committed to an agreement. She was to furnish typewritten bills of fare for the twenty-one tables in the restaurant, a new bill for each day's dinner, and new ones for breakfast and lunch as often as changes occurred in the food or as neatness required. In return for this, Schuylenberg was to send three meals per diem to Sarah's hall room by a waiter, an obsequious one if possible, and furniture each afternoon with a pencil draft of what fate had in store for Schuylenberg's customers on the morrow. Mutual satisfaction resulted from the agreement. Schuylenberg's patrons now knew what the food they ate was called, even if its nature sometimes puzzled them, and Sarah had food during a cold dull winter which was the main thing with her. And then the Almanac lied, and said that spring had come. Spring comes when it comes. The frozen snows of January still lay like adamant in the crosstown streets. The hand organ still played in the good old summertime with their December vivacity and expression. Men began to make thirty-day notes to buy Easter dresses, janitors shut off the steam, and when these things happen one may know that the city is still in the clutches of winter. One afternoon Sarah shivered in her elegant hall bedroom. House-eated, scrupulously clean, conveniences seemed to be appreciated. She had no work to do except Schuylenberg's menu-cards. Sarah sat in her squeaky willow rocker and looked out the window. The calendar on the wall kept crying to her, "'Springtime is here, Sarah. Springtime is here, I tell you. Look at me, Sarah. My figures show it. You've got a neat figure yourself, Sarah. Uh, nice springtime figure. Why do you look out the window so sadly?' Sarah's room was at the back of the house. Looking out the window she could see the windowless red brick wall of the box factory on the next street. But the wall was clear as crystal. And Sarah was looking down a grassy lane, shaded with cherry trees and elms, and bordered with raspberry bushes and Cherokee roses. Spring's real harbingers are too subtle for the eye and ear. Some must have the flowering crocus, the wood-starring dogwood, the voice of a billbird, even so gross a reminder is the farewell handshake of the retiring buckwheat and oyster before they can welcome the lady in green to their dough bosoms.  In a previous summer Sarah had gone into the country and loved a farmer. In writing your story, never hark back thus. It is bad art and cripples interest. Let it march, march! Sarah staved two weeks at Sunnybrook Farm. There she learned to love old farmer Franklin's son, Walter. Farmers have been loved and wedded and turned out to grass in less time. But young Walter Franklin was a modern agriculturist. He had a telephone in his cowhouse, and he could figure up exactly what effect next year's Canada wheat crop would have on potatoes planted in the dark of the moon. It was in this shaded and raspberry lane that Walter had wooed and won her. And together they had sat and woven a crown of dandelions for her hair. They had immoderately praised the effect of the yellow blossoms against her brown tresses.  They were to merry in the spring, at the very first signs of spring, Walter said, and Sarah came back to the city to pound her typewriter. A knock at the door dispelled Sarah's visions of that happy day. A waiter had brought the rough pencil draft of the home restaurant's next-day fare in old Schellenberg's angular hand. Sarah sat down at her typewriter and slipped a card between the rollers. She was a nimble worker. Generally in an hour and a half the twenty-one menu cards were written and ready. Today there were more changes on the bill affair than usual. The soups were lighter. Work was eliminated from the entrees, figuring only with Russian turnips among the roasts. The gracious spirit of spring pervaded the entire menu. Lamb, that lately capered on the greening hillsides, was becoming exploited with the sauce that commemorated its gambrels. The song of the oyster, though not silenced, was diminuendo con amore. The frying pan seemed to be held inactive behind the beneficent bars of the broiler. The pilest swelled. The richer puddings had vanished. The sausage, with his drape rewrapped about him, barely lingered in a pleasant Thanatopsis with the buckwheats and the sweet but doomed maple. Sarah's fingers danced like midgets above a summer stream. Down through the courses she worked, giving each item its position, according to its length and with an accurate eye. Just above the desserts came the list of vegetables, carrots and peas, asparagus on toast, the perennial tomatoes and corn and succotash, lima beans, cabbage, and then. Sarah was crying over her bill affair. Tears from the depths of some divine despair rose in her heart and gathered to her eyes.  For she had received no letter from Walter in two weeks, and the next item on the bill affair was dandelions, dandelions with some kind of egg but bothered the egg. Dandelions, with whose golden blooms Walter had crowned her his queen of love and future bride, dandelions, the harbingers of spring, her sorrows, crown of sorrow, reminder of her happiest days. Madam, I dare you to smile until you suffer this test. Let the merchile kneel roses that Percy brought you on the night you gave him your heart be served as a salad with French dressing before your eyes at a schulenberg tabled de Holt. Had Juliet so seen her love tokens dishonored, the sooner would she have sought the lethal herbs of the good apothecary. But what a witch's spring! Into the great cold city of stone and iron a message had to be sent. There was none to convey it but the little hearty courier of the fields with his rough green coat and modest air. She is a true soldier of fortune, this dandelion, this lion's tooth, as the French chefs call him. Flowered he will assist at love-making, wreathe in Milady's nut-brown hair. Young and callowen, unblossomed, he goes into the boiling pot and delivers the word of his sovereign mistress. By and by Sarah forced back her tears. The cards must be written. But still in a faint golden glow from her dandelion-9 dream she fingered the typewriter keys absently for a little while with her mind and heart in the metal lane with her young farmer. But soon she came swiftly back to the rock-bound lanes of Manhattan and the typewriter began to rattle and jump like a strike-breaker's motor-car. At six o'clock the waiter brought her dinner and carried away the typewritten bill of fare. When Sarah ate she set aside with a sigh the dish of dandelions with its crowning o' various accompaniment. As this dark mass had been transformed from a bright and love-endorsed flower to be an ignominious vegetable, so had her summer hopes wilted and perished. Love may, as Shakespeare said, feed on itself. But Sarah could not bring herself to eat the dandelions that had graced as ornaments the first spiritual banquet of her heart's true affection. At seven thirty the couple in the next room began to quarrel. The man in the room above sought for a on his flute. The gas went a little lower. Three coal wagons started to unload. The only sound of which the phonograph is jealous. Cats on the back fences slowly retreated towards Muckton. By these signs Sarah knew it was time for her to read. She got out the cloister in the hearth, the best non-selling book of the month, settled her feet on her trunk, and began to wander with Gerard. The front doorbell rang. The landlady answered it. Sarah left Gerard and Denny's tree to buy a bear and listened. Oh, yes, you would, just as she did. And then a strong voice was heard in the hall below, and Sarah jumped for her door, leaving the book on the floor in the first round easily the bears. You have guessed it. She reached the top of the stairs just as her farmer came up, three at a jump, and reaped and garnered her with nothing left for the gleaners. Why haven't you written—oh, why? cried Sarah. New York's a pretty large town, said Walter Franklin. I came in a week ago to your old address, and found that you went away on a Thursday. That consoled some. It eliminated the possible Friday bad luck. But it didn't prevent my hunting for you with police and otherwise ever since. I wrote, said Sarah vehemently, never got it. Then how did you find me? The young farmer smiled a springtime smile. I dropped into that home restaurant next door this evening, said he. I don't care who knows it.  I ran my eye down that nice type-written bill of fare looking for something in that line. When I got below cabbage, I turned to my chair over and hollered for the proprietor. He told me where you lived. I remember, cites Sarah happily. That was dandelions below the cabbage. I know that cranky capital W way above the line your top rider makes anywhere in the world, said Franklin. Why, there's no W in dandelions? Said Sarah in surprise. The young man drew the bill of fare from his pocket and pointed to a line. Sarah recognized the first card she had typewritten that afternoon. There was still the raid splotch in the upper right-hand corner where a tear had fallen, but over the spot where one should have read the name of the meadow plant, the clinging memory of their gold and blossoms had allowed her fingers to strike strange keys. Between the red cabbage and the stuffed green peppers was the item. Dearest Walter with hard-boiled egg. End of Spring Alocart by O'Henry. The ten-fifteen train glided from Paddington May 7th, 1847. In the left compartment of a certain first-class carriage were four passengers. Of these, two were worth description. The lady had a smooth, white, delicate brow, strongly marked eyebrows, long lashes, eyes that seemed to change color, and a good-sized, delicious mouth with teeth as white as milk. A man could not see her nose for her eyes and mouth. Her own sex could and would have told us some nonsense about it. She wore an unpretending grayish dress, buttoned to the throat with losanger-shaped buttons and a scotch shawl that agreeably evaded the responsibility of color. She was like a duck, so tight her plain feathers fitted her, and there she sat, smooth, snug, and delicious, with a book in her hand and a souson of her snowy wrist, just visible as she held it. Her opposite neighbor was what I call a good style of man, the more to his credit since he belonged to a corporation that frequently turns out the worst imaginable style of young man. He was a cavalry officer, aged twenty-five. He had a mustache, but not a repulsive one, not one of those sub-nasal pigtails on which soup is suspended like dew on a shrub. It was short, thick, and black as coal. His teeth had not as yet been turned by tobacco-smoke to the color of tobacco-juice. His clothes did not stick to nor hang on him. They sat on him. He had an engaging smile, and what I liked the dog for, his vanity, which was inordinate, was in its proper place, his heart, not in his face, jostling mine and other people's who have none. In a word he was what one often hears often meets, a young gentleman. He was conversing in an animated whisper with a companion, a fellow officer. They were talking about what it is far better not to do, women. Our friend clearly did not wish to be overheard, for he cast ever and anon a furtive glance at his fair vis-à-vis, and lowered his voice. She seemed completely absorbed in her book, and that reassured him. At last the two soldiers came down to a whisper, and in that whisper the truth must be told. The one who got down at Slough, and was lost to posterity, bet ten pounds to three, that he, who was going down with us to Bath and immortality, would not kiss either of the ladies opposite upon the road. Done, done! Now I'm sorry a man I have hitherto praised should have lent himself even in a whisper to such a speculation, but nobody is wise at all ours, not even when the clock is striking five and twenty, and you are to consider his profession, his good looks, and the temptation ten to three. After Slough the party was reduced to three. At Twyford one lady dropped her handkerchief.  Two or three words were interchanged on that occasion. At Reading the Marlborough of our tale made one of the safe investments of that day. He bought a times, and a punch. The latter was full of steel-pen thrusts and wood-cuts. Valor and beauty dained to laugh at some inflated humbug or other punctured by punch. Now laughing together thaws our human ice. Long before Swindon it was a talking-match. At Swindon who so devoted as Captain Dollygnan? He handed them out. He souped them. He tough-chickened them. He branded and cautioneeled one, a note, this is supposed to allude to two decoctions called Port and Sherry, and imagined by one earthly nation to partake of a vilest nature. And he branded and burnt sugared the other. On their return to the carriage one lady passed into the inner compartment to inspect a certain gentleman's seat on that side the line. Reader, had it been you or I, the beauty would have been the deserter. The average one would have stayed with us till all was blue, ourselves included. Not more surely does our slice of bread and butter when it escapes from our hand revolve it ever so often. A light faced downwards on the carpet. But this was a bit of a fop, a donis, a dragoon, so Venus remained in a tate-tate with him. You have seen a dog meet an unknown female of his species. How handsome! How onpese! How expressive he becomes! Such was Dollygnan after Swindon, and to do the dog justice he got handsomer and handsomer. And you have seen a cat conscious of approaching cream. Such was Miss Hathorn. She became Demiore and Demiore. Presently our captain looked out of the window and laughed. This elicited an inquiring look from Miss Hathorn. Hm! We are only a mile from the box-tunnel. Oh! Do you always laugh a mile from the box-tunnel? said the lady. Invariably. What for? Why, it's a gentleman's joke. Oh! I don't mind it being silly if it makes me laugh. Captain Dollygnan, thus encouraged, recounted to Miss Hathorn the following. A lady and her husband sat together going through the box-tunnel. There was one gentleman opposite, and it was pitch dark. Through the tunnel the lady said, George, how absurd of you to salute me going through the tunnel. I did no such thing. You didn't? No. Why? Why, because somehow I thought you did. Here Captain Dollygnan laughed, and endeavoured to lead his companion to laugh, but it was not to be done. The train entered the tunnel. Miss Hathorn. Oh! Dollygnan. Oh! What's the matter? Miss Hathorn. I'm frightened. Dollygnan. Moving to her side. Oh! Pray do not be alarmed. I am near you. Miss Hathorn. You are near me. Very near me indeed, Captain Dollygnan. And Dollygnan. Oh! You know my name! Miss Hathorn. Oh! Dollygnan. Oh! What's the matter? Miss Hathorn. I'm frightened. Dollygnan. Moving to her side. Oh! Pray do not be alarmed. Miss Hathorn. I heard your friend mention it. Oh! I wish we were out of this dark place. Dollygnan. I could be content to spend hours here reassuring you, sweet lady. Miss Hathorn. Oh! Nonsense! Dollygnan. Mwah! A grave reader. Do not put your lips to the cheek of the next pretty creature you meet, or you will understand what this means. Miss Hathorn. Oh! Oh! A friend. Oh! What's the matter? Miss Hathorn. Open the door! Open the door! The door was opened. There was a sound of hurried whispers. The door was shut, and the blind pulled down with hostile sharpness. Miss Hathorn's scream lost a part of its effect because the engine whistled 40,000 murders at the same moment, and fictitious grief makes itself heard when real cannot. In the tunnel and bath our young friend had time to ask himself whether his conduct had been marked by that delicate reserve which is supposed to distinguish the perfect gentleman. With a long face, real or feigned, he held open the door. His late friends attempted to escape on the other side. Impossible! They must pass him, she whom he had insulted, Latin for kissed, deposited somewhere at his foot a look of gentle blushing reproach, the other whom he had not insulted, darted red hot daggers at him from her eyes, and so they parted. It was perhaps fortunate for Dollygnand that he had the grace to be friends with major Hoskins of his regiment. A veteran laughed at by the youngsters, for the major was too apt to look coldly upon billiard-balls and cigars. He had seen cannon-balls and lint-stocks. He had also, to tell the truth, swallowed a good bit of the mess-room poker, but with it some sort of moral poker, which made it as impossible for major Hoskins to descend to an un-gentleman-like word or action as to brush his own trousers below the knee. Captain Dollygnand told this gentleman his story in gleeful accents, but major Hoskins heard him coldly, and as coldly answered that he had known a man lose his life for the same thing. That is nothing, continued the major, but unfortunately he deserved to lose it. At this the blood mounted to the younger man's temples, and his senior added, I mean to say, he was thirty-five. You, I presume, are twenty-one? Twenty-five? Oh, that's much the same thing. Will you be advised by me? Oh, if you will advise me. Speak to no one of this, and send White the three pounds that he may think you've lost the bet. Oh, that's hard when I won it. Do it for all that, sir. Let the disbelievers in human perfectability know that this dragoon capable of a blush did this virtuous action, albeit with violent reluctance, and it was his first damper. A week after these events he was at a ball. He was in that state of factious discontent which belongs to us amiable English. He was looking in vain for a lady equal in personal attraction to the idea he had formed of George Dolegnan as a man, when suddenly there glided past him a most delightful vision, a lady whose beauty and symmetry took him by the eyes. Another look. It can't be. Yes, it is. Miss Haythorn, not that he knew her name, but what an apotheosis. The duck had become a peahen, radiant, dazzling. She looked twice as beautiful and almost twice as large as before. He lost sight of her. He found her again. She was so lovely she made him ill, and he alone must not dance with her nor speak to her. If he had been content to begin her acquaintance in the usual way, it might have ended in kissing. But having begun with kissing, it must end in nothing. As she danced, sparks of beauty fell from her on all around but him. She did not see him. It was clear she would never see him. One gentleman was particularly assiduous. She smiled on his aciduity. He was ugly, but she smiled on him. Dolignan was surprised at his success, his ill taste, his ugliness, his impertinence. Dolignan at last found himself injured. Who was this man, and what right had he to go on so? He had never kissed her, I suppose, said Dolignan. Dolignan could not prove it, but he felt that somehow the rights of property were invaded. He went home, and dreamed of Miss Haythorne, and hated all the ugly successful. And note, when our successful rival is ugly, the blow is doubly severe, and crushing, we fall by bludgeon, we who thought the keenest rapier might perchance thrust at us in vain. He spent a fortnight trying to find out who this beauty was. He never could encounter her again. At last he heard of her in this way.  The young gentleman was shocked, endeavoured to soften the lawyer's clerk. That machine did not thoroughly comprehend the meaning of the term. The lady's name, however, was at last revealed by this untoward incident. From her name to her address was but a short step, and the same day our crestfallen hero lay in wait at her door, and many a succeeding day, without effect. But one fine afternoon she issued forth quite naturally, as if she did it every day, and walked briskly on the nearest parade. Dolignan did the same. He met and passed her many times on the parade, and searched for pity in her eyes, but found neither look, nor recognition, nor any other sentiment. For all this she walked and walked till all the other promenaders were tired and gone. Then her culprit summoned resolution, and taking off his hat with her voice tremulous for the first time, besought permission to address her. She stopped, blushed, and neither acknowledged nor disowned his acquaintance. He blushed, and stammered out how ashamed he was, how he deserved to be punished, how he was punished, how little she knew how unhappy he was, and concluded by begging her not to let all the world know the disgrace of a man who was already mortified enough by the loss of her acquaintance. She asked an explanation.  Emboldened by this, he begged to know whether or not a life of distant, unpretending devotion would, after a lapse of years, erase the memory of his madness, his crime. She did not know. She must now bid him adieu, as she had some preparations to make for a ball in the crescent, where everybody was to be. They parted, and Dollygnan determined to be at the ball where everybody was to be. He was there, and after some time he obtained an introduction to Miss Hathorn, and he danced with her. Her manner was gracious. With the wonderful tact of her sex she seemed to have commenced the acquaintance that evening. That night, for the first time, Dollygnan was in love. I will spare the reader all the lovers' arts by which he succeeded in dining where she dined, in dancing where she danced, in overtaking her by accident when she rode. His devotion followed her even to church, where our dragoon was rewarded by learning there is a world where thine neither pulp nor smoke, the two capital abominations of this one. He made acquaintance with her uncle, who liked him, and he saw at last with joy that her eye loved to dwell upon him when she thought he did not observe her. It was three months after the box-tunnel that Captain Dollygnan called one day upon Captain Hawthorne R.N., whom he had met twice in his life, and slightly propitiated by resolutely listening to a cutting-out expedition, he called, and in the usual way asked permission to pay his addresses to his daughter. The worthy Captain straightaway began doing quarter-deck, when suddenly he was summoned from the apartment by a mysterious message. On his return he announced with a total change of voice that it was all right, and his visitor might run alongside as soon as he chose. My reader has defined the truth. This nautical commander, terrible to the foe, was in complete and happy subjugation to his daughter, our heroine. As he was taking leave, Dollygnan saw his divinity glide into the drawing-room. He followed her, observed a sweet consciousness which encouraged him. That consciousness deepened into confusion. She tried to laugh, she cried instead, and then she smiled again, and when he kissed her hand at the door it was George and Marion, instead of Captain this and Miss the other. A reasonable time after this, for my tale is merciful and skips formalities and torturing delays, these two were very happy. They were once more upon the railroad, going to enjoy the honeymoon all by themselves. Dollygnan was dressed just as before, duck-like and delicious, all bright except her clothes, but George sat beside her this time instead of opposite, and she drank him in gently from under her long eyelashes. Marion, said George, married people should tell each other all. Will you ever forgive me if I own to you? Oh, no. Yes. Yes. Well, then, you remember the box-tunnel? This was the first illusion he had ventured to it. I'm ashamed to say I had bet three pounds to ten pounds with white.   Oh, I know that, George, I overheard you, was the dimmure reply. You overheard me? Impossible. And did you not hear me whisper to my companion? I made a bet with her. You made a bet? How singular! What was it? Only a pair of gloves, George. Oh, yes, I know. But what about? Oh, that if you did, you should be my husband, dearest. Oh, what stay? Then you could not have been so very angry with me, love. Why, dearest, then who brought that action against me? Mrs. Dollington, look down. I was afraid you were forgetting me. George, you will never forgive me. Oh, sweet angel, why, here is the box-tunnel. Now, reader, fae, no, no such thing. You can't expect to be indulged in this way every time we come to a dark place. Besides, it's not the thing. Consider two sensible married people. No such phenomenon, I assure you, took place. No scream issued in hopeless rivalry of the engine. This time, End of the Box-Tunnel, by Charles Reed. The Extravagances of Love by Archie Bald, Alexander. Read for Love Stories, volume two by Chad Horner from Ballyclair in County Andrew, Northern Ireland. Situated in the northeast of the island of Ireland. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Extravagance of Love by Archbishop Alexander. Whenever this Gospel was preached, this that she had done shall be told as a memorial of her. What a gracious memorial, and how worthy of it was Mary's beautiful outburst of generosity. But what a pity that the speech of Judas should be recorded also as a memorial of him. And yet, on mature consideration, we would not have the Judas criticism forgotten, because it called forth what we might not otherwise have had, the vindication of Jesus himself. And because, as a matter of fact, we are constantly hearing the protest of Judas repeated in our own day, and are often ill-held to know how to meet it, this he said, not because he loved the poor, but because he was a thief and kept the bag. Yet he might have been an honest man and said the same thing, for very many honest and earnest men and women are repeating this criticism still. It is repeated, whenever it is taken for granted, that practical utility is the only standard by which to judge actions and offerings, that God and man can be served in no other way than by iron bars and perspiration. How often do we meet the type of mind that admits the service of a playman and denies that of poet or artist, for whom the waterfall, as somebody has said, exists merely as so much power for driving turbines, and whose sole test of usefulness is that of making two blades grow, and corn blades and that, where but one grew before. We are commonly bribed by this type of person, and yet we fail that somehow, if we could only say it, he is wrong, that the poets is as defined a vocation as the farmers, that God meant a silver band of falling water in a green glade to suggest other things besides dynamos, and that he who even paints some blades of grass and paints them pleasingly has his place somewhere in the great guild of servants of God and man. One has heard the same attitude taken up in other directions too. Why spend so much money on a church, you will be asked, when there are so many purpeople in the land, what need for stone pillars and a fine organ, when a plain building and a harmonium would do as well? Why try to secure what is called a beautiful church service, dignified, stately, musical, and the very boldest worship is acceptable in God's sight, if only it be sincere. We have heard all that and other remarks like that often, and we have seldom been able to give reasons against him, and mere instinctive sentiment seems a feeble thing to oppose to such cold and hard facts. Yet somehow we feel that it is all wrong if only we knew how to convict it. Did it ever occur to you that Jesus himself has answered that objection and others like it, when he vindicated Mary's action that night? There is no doubt that her ointment cost a deal of money, money that could have fed many hungry people. It was an extravagant offering, without any practical outcome, save that Jesus was refreshed. There is no doubt also about our Lord's sympathy with the poor and needy, and yet he upheld Mary's action and would not have it called wasteful. All that could be said in this favour was that it was beautiful, that it touched Jesus keenly and influenced all who saw it dumb, and that as I read the story was one reason at least why Jesus defended it. He allows the beautiful, he would have the beautiful honoured. Even in a world so full of sorrow and trouble as this. From my part I am very grateful that this word of Christ has been recorded, for it affords sufficient warrant for declaring the poet, the artist, the architect, and all those who are trying to make the world more beautiful, God's servants too, offering him a gift he does not stain to recognise, as truly as the physician, the philanthropist, and the preacher, whose object is to make it better. Beauty of form and structure has been lavished profusely by the creator on creatures too small to be seen. There are more things grew out of God's earth than corn for food or timber for building houses, there's the heather and the wild flowers, the daisies and the violets. Hard-headed, common sense asks, what's the use of them, what good do they do? The answer is that they are beautiful, and that seems in God's sight to be justification enough for having made them.  These actions may be foolish, extravagant, exotic, and may outrage every canon of common sense. But there is a fragrance about them, without which the world would be much poorer. They are morally beautiful, and for that reason, our Lord himself would teach us, they are not to be rudely handled, nor judged by any hard standard. Yes, but he said more than that, he found a more complete extinuation of Mary's extravagance. It was because she loved much, her gift was an offering of love to himself. She hath done it for my burial, and that is the end of the whole matter, my brothers. Love is always extravagant, when measured by the tape line of burgery, it always overflows, it breaks its box and gives everything it has, yet, like the widow's curse of old, its casket is never empty, for even when it has given it all, the next needy case will find its sucker at that door. Take your charity subscription sheet, to the man who loudly asserts that too much money is being given to the Kirk this dull season, and what will you get? Take it also to the man who has signed a bigger cheque, than he can well afford, that the house of his God may be made beautiful, and it will be strange if he are sent empty away. Oh no, it is not Mary whose devotion has found outlet, in some sudden generosity. It is not she who neglects the poor. End of The Extravagance of Love, by Archibald Alexander. The Knowledge of Christ's Love It is the distinguishing mark of God's people that they know the love of Christ. Without exception all those who have passed from death unto life, whatever they may not know, have learned this, and without exception all those who are not saved, whatever they may know, besides knowing nothing of this, or to know the love of Christ, to taste its sweetness, to realise it personally, experimentally and vitally, as shed abroad in our hearts, but the Holy Ghost is the privilege of the child of God alone. This is the secure enclosure into which the stranger cannot enter. This is the garden of the Lord, so well protected by walls and hedges, that no wild boar of the wood can enter. Only the redeemed of the Lord shall walk here. They and only they may pluck the fruits and content themselves with the delight they're of. How important them becomes to question, do I know the love of Christ? Have I felt it? Do I understand it? Is it shed abroad in my heart? Do I know that Jesus loves me? Is my heart quickened and animated and warmed and attracted towards him, through the great truth that it recognises and rejoices in, that Christ has really loved me and chosen me, and set his heart upon me? But while it is true that every child of God knows the love of Christ, it is equally true that all the children of God do not know this love, to the same extent they are in Christ's family. Babes, young men, strong men and fathers, and as they grow and progress in all other matters, so they most certainly make advances here. Indeed, an increase of love, a more perfect apprehension of Christ's love, is one of the best and most infallible gauges whereby we may test ourselves, whether we have grown in grace or not. If we have grown in grace, it is absolutely certain that we shall have advanced in our knowledge and reciprocation of the love of Christ. Many have believed in Jesus and know a little of his love, but oh, it is little indeed they know, in comparison with some others who have been brought into the inner chamber and made to drink of the spiced wine of Christ's promagrana. Some have begun to climb the mountain, and the view which lies at their feet is lovely and passing fair, but the landscape is not such as to greet their eyes if they could withstand where advanced saints are standing, and could look to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south, and see all the lengths and breadth and depths and heights of the love of Christ, which passes knowledge. End of The Knowledge of Christ Love by Charles Haddon's Version


Hi, I'm Chandra Priya. I'm handling the Automotive Technical Solutions of Arescent. Here I am happy to introduce you to our recent V2X software framework. We have developed a software IP for vehicle-to-vehicle as well as vehicle-to-intrastructure communication. And our software stack is actually compliant to North American Wave as well as the European ETSI specifications. We have in fact participated on the plug-fest both for North America and as well as the European plug-fest. Ours is a small footprint solution and it is agnostic to hardware as well as to operating systems. So in that way it is easier for us to port out any targets on any operating systems required on the OEM side. And we have APIs which is accessible for the tier ones to build their applications above that. We have our own IoT stack as well as data analytics framework. So it's possible for us to integrate our V2X with the IoT and create more smart city-based applications. So here we are with a demonstration of our V2X on three areas running as a road structure unit as well as running as a on-board unit one which is a host vehicle which gives an indication in the dashboard as well as the on-board unit two which is sort of a remote vehicle. So we had tried giving a demonstration of all of this and there are four applications which we are demonstrating here. Two safety applications which are running on the DSRC chipset and the stationery vehicle alert as well as the forward collision warning. These are the two safety applications which we are running on the DSRC chipset. And we are running two non-safety applications. The non-safety applications are running on the telematics platform. So here the challenge is running the applications as two instances, one at the DSRC chipset and another at the telematics platform. The non-safety applications running on the telematics platform are in this instance it's a charging station availability status as well as the road weather alert. So whenever the on-board unit the host vehicle goes through a charging station it tells about the status of the charging station in the demonstration. So this is the demo which has been provided here. So I would like to really say that this is actually a mass production ready V2X software stack and this could be used by tier ones and OEMs for their V2X ECU development immediately. So thank you very much.


From the Walt Disney World Swan and Dolphin Resort in Orlando, Florida, it's theCUBE. Covering Splunk.com 2016, brought to you by Splunk. Now, here are your hosts, John Furrier and John Walls. Hey, welcome back everyone live in Orlando. This is SiliconANGLES, the CUBE, our flagship program. We go out to the events to extract the single noise. We are here for DotConf 2016, as part of Splunk's seventh annual event. I'm John Furrier, my co-host, John Walls, and we are going to have a Shazam of a second.   I love music. You've got Shazam on your phone. I've got Shazam on my phone, yep. All right, we're going to mess with this a little bit. To help us do that is Chris Cameronman, who's a senior infrastructure engineer at Shazam. Chris, thanks for joining us. Good to see you. Good to be here. First time that I'm here. First CUBER. We need to come up with a song for that. We need a CUBE alumni. You've written it already, or done it already. So we were talking before we came on. We're going to have a Shazam app integrated to the CUBE experience to bring that community together. It'd be pretty cool. Obviously the CUBE has a great community and thanks for coming and joining us as a CUBE alumni. Great to have you. It's a pleasure. So Shazam's got some cool tech. I honestly started as a real kind of like total geek project and music wasn't even on the agenda. With identifying music was a unique algorithm. Matches of certain frequencies, ties in to the database. Hello, it's a Google search for audio, whatever you want to call it. Now expanded, a lot of infrastructure involved. First give us the overview of what's going on with Shazam. How big, what's data, what goes on under the hood. So we have over 100 million monthly active users and we need cloud infrastructure and on-prem infrastructure to support that. So we have a mixture of Amazon. We have a mixture of a third party managed data center. We have our own in-house data center. But we have, without giving too many numbers away, obviously hundreds of servers. We have some EC2, some DynamoDBs and Amazon Redshift. We have about 30 spunk indexes, sort of. So a lot of cloud. A lot of cloud, a lot of cloud, some on-prem. Actually, because of our requirements to do the recognition infrastructure using GPUs, GPUs are a little bit hard to put in a cloud infrastructure because they generate a lot of heat and also they're slightly slower because you share them. Facility issues is classic car valve for on-prem, have that on-prem. Yeah, exactly. So our GPU recognition cluster actually makes up the size of the state in a managed data center. So a lot of us are basically web-scale and the modern era mobile users. I got Shazam here, you want to show a demo? You want to tease this up real quick? So I'm here, I'm at theCUBE and you want to know who this guy that's speaking on-screen is. He's a bit crazy, he's Australian, he has an accent. So let's just pretend we forgot who you are. Yeah, I'm somebody. So if you press the Shazam button right now, press it, magically through the interweb and the magic that is Shazam, it will actually recognize. That's you. Who I am. Yeah, it's me. It's me in virtual form. And it's an app that I created for son.com. And it tells me where I'm speaking, what I'm doing and it's a way for you to interact with me. If you want to link in with me, there's a button to link in. You can get a bio on there too. We want to know who you are, what you're talking about, where you are, what time of day, all of the time. Exactly. So this brings up a good point. Obviously the directory, music, people, it's audio. Yes. And obviously with Siri, AI, audio cues are now huge. Yes. Right, so you're saying you guys can do this. Yes. For people and anything. Absolutely, anything. We do it for almost anything and everything. So our audio gets used at live events, gets used in stores and retail outlets so that we can help people and help brands engage with their users. We do it visual as well. So you can take pictures of Coke cans and magazines and other merchandise. So I think even a Formula One car might even be shazamable because we have a relationship with one another.  There's been all these devices, the Q-Cat going way back and you really know your web-dage history. But now with QR codes and Snapchat, people are actually getting used to using the native device for capture and then discovery. Exactly. Obviously Siri with the iPhone and other technologies, cars are going to have it. So the interface of the voice is there. What are you guys doing now to create more headroom? Obviously, what do you currently have in market and what's in the pipeline? So we do audio recognition right now. We do visual recognition and we've got Bluetooth recognition. So we can do hyperlocal, we can do anything. This is our ethos to be able to recognize anything. And we're trying to do some, without giving away too much of our pipeline, but the next visual implementation is going to be awesome. Everybody's going to love it. Is there anything because of the mobile environment? I mean, does that change at all? I mean, either how you harvest data or capture, whatever, because it's a unique animal. Yeah. Mobile poses its own challenge. Wi-Fi drops in and out and we're saturated here at Splunk.com. Sometimes I can't get a signal. Sometimes I can't get a response as to what I've just shazammed. Mobile, it's a mature environment right now. It's not like the 2007 years. So it's really, in some ways, no different to a normal weather. But it's our native application format. So no difference for us. So what's the coolest thing that you've seen with Shazam? Obviously, my daughter uses it for music all the time. I see her with other Shazams. She puts it on the radio. Yeah. I was playing and she gets the Shazam. Great for music. Everyone gets that use case. I see that on TV. Well, what other cool things can you share in having access to all the data? So cool use cases involve being able to sing your friends a song by karaoke. It involves, we did some Oculus stuff with a soft drink company. We have some in-app experiences like for one of the movies. You shazam the movie poster and your phone becomes part of the set. And every time you move around in three dimensions, like it feels as though you're in part of the set. And one time we're in the Jaguar car and it felt as though you're in the car and you press the button and the engine just goes boom. And you felt as though you're in the car. It was a really good interactive experience. This brings the augmented reality gesture-based discovery. I mean, I don't know what to call it, but we'll just say a gesture, voice, picture. I'm initiating a progression that you guys are facilitating. I mean, in a way, that's an opportunity, right? It is an opportunity. And I'd say watch this space for the play on realities. Hopefully that it'll be coming and be announcing that some stage in the future. All right, so there's a big opportunity for you guys. You can see a lot of future, you can see the vision. No doubt. How do people work with you guys? Do you guys have an ecosystem as you guys doing it by yourself? How do people make money with Shazam? How do people get involved? Obviously you're here at Splunk. You Splunk some things for the demo. Can people play with Shazam? Do you guys have any open APIs? Any kind of developer environment? So we have partners that we work with and we also have our own sales force. We're a data-fied business, so we're trying to sell data to other people as well. So you can, if you wanted to buy a Shazam-enabled advert or a Shazam-enabled experience, you can speak to our sales people. They're quite easy to find. Shazam.com slash brands, check it out. And we have in-country representatives in various parts of the world. But yeah, also if you want access to our data, you can look on some sites. I think data at Shazam.com. You can buy some of that. I'm sure we'd be happy to talk with you. We have relationships with media, like the record labels, you know, individual artists, radio stations. So there's plenty of ways to get access to that.  Yeah, I'd love to be able to do that for you. Give me 15 minutes, I'll make a call.   What are you finding out, like in general, that you find actionable, that you're finding useful to fine tune your services? So one of the things that help, so we have a set of people in such as them who's able to help somebody if they buy Shazam-enabled experiences, to how and best you can get users to interact with Shazam and perhaps lead to purchases. So whether that be choosing the coolest music or, you know, placement of call to action signs, we have some insights as to what people do in shopping centers and what they're likely to be interested in or buy. We have a whole lot of data that we can actually mine and help other companies monetize. But the people who do that are the research people, not me, and I forget some of the useful insights. Yes, question. So here's just kind of thinking about what we do in theCUBE. We kind of connect the dots, we riff on stuff. So let's just say that I have a CUBE interview we're doing this here and it's on our video, so it's watching live, hello everybody. But it goes on demand for YouTube. We do CUBE gyms, we also have our podcasts on Friday, 8 a.m., Pacific Time, listen to my podcast live, also go to soundcloud.com, CUBEcasts, the weekly podcast of fourth week. So I can see a use case where I would like to have, see if I can load a Shazam and say, anytime someone's Shazam's a CUBE video, that they can pull up derivative data around it, like related videos, which I have meditated on, I might have top stories that might be trending in the genre, same thing we're talking about, big data at Splunk, someone's Shazam's this interview and says, wow, cool interview related to Shazam and Splunk with IT, I mean, I'm making it up. But is that possible? I do that. Absolutely, because we can pinpoint anywhere in the audio stream as to how far, two minutes and 21 seconds through the audio and based on that, we can generate your custom result and you're right. So I give you a metadata playlist or something or a storyboard or? We need to work on the solution, but yeah, essentially. It's possible. Yeah, absolutely. And we're kind of doing things like Shazam for conferences and I've been doing a bit of Shazam for Splunk live London where basically throughout the day, the results change and you can Shazam during the day, during the conference, during the talk and you can get different results. So it's quite helpful. So what if I wanted to build into a mobile app? Because we're coming out the Cube app soon, our native mobile app and it's going to be, I'll playlist with like top videos. Can I put a Shazam button in my app? Because I'm on my phone, I'm mobile with the consumption. Yeah. An analog makes sense, radio or TV. Is there a Shazam button I can natively put on my mobile app? Without giving too much away, the answer is yes, you should talk with us. That's coming. No, that's it. Because you can't listen, you can't say, hey, you want to say, hey, Shazam this iPhone. Yeah, Shazam this interview. Yeah, so Siri will work, you know, hey Siri, what's that song? But, I'm sorry, I probably just turned on all our phones by saying that. Well, if I hit the button Siri, I turn off when I'm playing or if it's playing in the background and Safari browser sucks for that. And you don't want to develop your own app too and your own tech to do the audio recognition. You want to make use of it. But you guys nailed the use case and the user expectation of Shazamming. Absolutely. Which is like typing in a key word or Google or, you know, so that is a good brand value. Absolutely. So I don't want to have to reinvent an image bar or any kind of brand. I just love to write on Shazam's coattails on that. So, and his audio. Absolutely, so I'll give you a use.  You don't want to develop your own in-store app because I'm going to walk into the store and I don't want to download your little app which I'm going to use once. So, what you should, and app real estate is a prime commodity. People have 100 apps on their phone but they use 10. And one of those 10 is usually Shazam. So don't invent your own. All right, so we're going to do a Shazam button on our mobile app. This is a great deal. And like again, first of all, Shazam like Splunk has a unique brand. It's a verb. Yes. C-Verbs has brands, Kleenex, Splunked it. Yeah. You know, Googled it. Shazam did. Yes. You guys are there. So you crossed over. Yes. Now where's the growth? How do you get to one billion? Good question. And we're always working on that. You're the interesting guy. Is there like a certain... You can just say, hey, my job is to make sure that everything runs for a billion users. That's, you know, you're good. Well, I'm really excited to work for Shazam's. Oh, you know, this is all very exciting to me. Is there a security player though to me with recognition, identification, those kinds of things? So maybe there is an opportunity there for a whole different sector for you to play in? Yeah. The sectors that we can play in is virtually limitless. It's just up to us to choose where we're going to go. But we do like, we use Splunk and we kind of use Splunk for security and we have security issues with our app as anybody does. And we've got to care about that. We have celebrities on our hosting. Twitter-like messages would be bad but that got hacked. But we can go anywhere with this app and if the future is our oyster, the load is our oyster. It looks like I go into the queue. All right, so we will work on that. We'll continue. Great, congratulations. I got to ask you the kind of the big question, kind of looking at the landscape. This is not really a Shazam question, but just in general. The trends in tech that you're most excited about, knowing what you're dealing with at Shazam. A lot of pressure to be a hyperscaler, web scaler now. You got cloud, obviously a lot of Amazon. We have a lot of Amazon as well. It's a lot of goodness in there but scale is really, really important. Cloud gives you that. You got some on-prem. What do you worry about? What are you focused on or are you like? Is it more in memory flash? Do you like Linux, kernel? Actually, what's kind of exciting to me and some of the stuff we're doing at Shazam is machine learning and the making real data science use of the data. So I've been playing with Splunk Machine Learning and what's great about Splunk Machine Learning is it's democratizing big data and it's democratizing data science. So somebody like me who's not a data scientist can actually go and play with it. You've solutionized it. You've got some work. You've made a solution out of it. Simplified it and I can actually go and play with Shazam data, machine learn it and I can predict the next number one song and I've got a prototype of that happening right now and it's awesome and I don't need a PhD to be able to do this. Well Chris, great to see you in the cube. Love the Mojo. Love Shazam. Big fan. You've got Avery Wang who I know. Shout out to him. Great company. Great success.  When you're a verb, it's a good thing. Shazam it. Hopefully coming soon to the cube videos on our app. We're going to work a deal. We've got a media company at Discount Park. Speaking of verbs, I've been cubed. You've been cubed. Exactly. Exactly. She's been cubed. Been cubed here. It's Splunking. We're Shazamming. We're cubing here in our land. We've got more live coverage after this short break.


What is health risk? Last week, risk bites took a 30,000-foot view of what is meant by risk. This week, I'm looking more specifically at what this means for health risk. To recap, things that are important to us have worth. Bad stuff happens, and that worth is diminished. We can reduce this loss of worth or its impacts through avoidance, insurance or adaptation. Health risk is a number that indicates the probability of a specific loss of worth occurring, and it's important for deciding how to handle the bad stuff and protect worth. Well, so much for generalities. How does this relate to health risk? Here, the worth we are talking about is our health and wellbeing, and that are the people around us. That bad stuff is all the things that can adversely affect our health, the environment we live in, the stuff we're exposed to, the ability of our bodies to handle it. And the loss of worth is the impact on our health, whether it's as mild as a sore throat or as devastating as a terminal illness. To minimise this loss of worth, we need to know what contributes to ill health, how big an effect we're looking at, and how best to intervene. And this is where understanding health risk, that number that indicates the probability of a specific health impact occurring, is so important. However, calculating health risk is not easy. To come up with a number, we need to understand the innate potential of things to cause harm, as well as how much of them causes what specific harm. We also need to understand how exposure to different agents affects people across their lives and how they react differently to the things they come into contact with. RiskBytes will be looking at the basics of estimating health risk next week and will be delving further into the specifics of risk assessment over the coming months. So stay tuned and don't forget to subscribe.


The disciples approached Jesus and said, the disciples approached Jesus full stop. That verb is so common that we often overlook the importance and the arrest that it has on our imagination. Or in the words of a priest classmate of mine who visited me in St. Louis this last week, he used to consider the Middle West as flyover country. But now he actually likes St. Louis having visited. Approach is similarly a flyover word in many of our gospel passages. But today it's the heart. It speaks to us the hearts of holiness. The first reading and the gospel play on this vacillation between nearness and farness, proximity and distance. And I'd like to reflect with you on this dynamic because I think there is an important lesson on holiness to be had here. Moses brought the people near to God, who though was still distant. He spoke from a dense cloud up the faraway top of the mountain. Moses instead himself drew near to God at the summit while the people stayed at a distance. Think about the gospel as well. The disciples asked Jesus why he speaks to the crowd in parables, which keep the precise understanding of Jesus and perhaps immediate acceptance of him at a distance. Whereas to the disciples and to those who press in on him, he reveals himself plainly and is quite near, making them the ultimate insiders, sure to make jealous Ponyboy Curtis and the company. What's going on with this dynamic of near and far? It's something that's been picked up on by theologians. One famous biblical ethicist, Jacob says this, the fundamental mental lesson here is that holiness indeed refers to a state and an activity. The first effect of holiness is to keep man at a distance, like at the burning bush, who can survive before the Lord our holy God. The inhabitants of Shemesh tell us into two chronicles. There is indeed a transcendence and a separateness about God. But then we read in Isaiah that the Lord keeps close to Israel, especially to the brokenhearted. Or in the New Testament we'll read in 1 Timothy, God dwells in light inaccessible, but yet in the beginning of John's gospel, that light shines on every person coming into the world. What's going on here? Ultimately, yes, God is distance and far and ultimately beyond us. But that's not to say that he is not approachable. In fact, he is approachable. And the goal of the Christian life is to draw near to him, who says to us, come, follow me. But like we heard yesterday with Dr. Hahn, we actually can't do just that. We need him to come to us to approach us first, which he did in history at the incarnation and in mystery at every mass. Like any winner of a scramble golf tournament would know, it's all about the approach. And that's what we are hearing today. Truth be told, when some person approaches me as a priest, I sometimes find myself recoiling a bit, if not externally, at least internally. Parish ministry sometimes will do that to you. Couple of months ago, I was approached at the end of mass, a Sunday mass at the old cathedral, by a fellow who never sticks around to say hello to the priest after mass, about 60 years old or so. He walks out of mass and says to me, Father, I wanna thank you. That was the first good homily I've heard here in two years. I leaned right into it and I said, well, I've been here for two years. And he just said, oh, I know and walked away. Wow. Sometimes the approach can be a little hard, but humility is to be had. Probably the most informative approach for me in my priestly ministry, as of recent, came at the hands of another person at the old cathedral. Her name is Pat. I first met Pat while I was walking around the arch grounds right on the Mississippi riverfronts, where the old cathedral is located. After dinner, I like to walk around in my cassock praying my rosary. I remember what Mother Teresa said, don't pray in order to be seen, but never be afraid to be seen praying. You just never know who might need that witness. Well, there was one who needed that witness that evening a few years ago. Pat, I was walking around the arch and I heard the familiar Father from the distance and I turned around and I saw a woman who must be about 50 years old, pushing in a stroller, a small child who must have been about five years old. I said, hi, my name is Father Samson. What's your name? And she paused and said, my name is Pat.   And then I said, well, tell me about you, where are you from? And she said, Father, I actually am a little bit desperate. I am on my way to the domestic violence shelter. I couldn't take what I was going through at home and so I had to leave and this backpack is all I have. Do you think you could give me a hand? And I said, oh my gosh, of course, I am so sorry. Come over to the rectory. So I brought her to the rectory. I gave her some money, a grocery card to Schnucks, our local grocer, and said, I'm here at the old cathedral. Never be afraid to come back. In fact, come back in a few days and let's check in and see how you're doing. We set up prayer and she went on her way. A few days later, as I was walking around the arch grounds again, she came back, this time without the child and the stroller. And she said to me, Father, I forgot to mention to you something when I first met you. I entered the church last year at the new cathedral, at the Easter vigil, but I was sick the day that they taught us how to pray the rosary. Do you have a second? Can you teach me how to pray the rosary? I'm like, yes. So I brought her again to the rectory, gave her a rosary from the holy lands and taught her how to pray and she went on her way. A couple of weeks passed and then one day right before the 1210 mass that I was celebrating, I see her walking up to the old cathedral.  What's going on? And she said, I've got great news. I was able to find housing through St. Patrick's Center, our ministry to the homeless. They were able to get me a basic job. I put my child into a school and I'm safe. I'm gonna make it. And I want to thank you because when I first met you, I could not see a future for myself and my child and we were in danger.  And I thought, my goodness. And I said, well, this really means so much but we're about to start mass. Would you want to join us for mass? And she said, can I? I said, yes, you became a Catholic a year ago. Yes, come on in. So she came in and for many months she would come to Daily Mass and she would sit right in the front pew and as a convert, she, whenever I would say the Lord be with you, she would put her hands up and say, and also with you. And it was the best. It was the best. And the parishioners got to know her and got to help her and she became a part of our community. But then I didn't see her for actually about a year and a half and I started to worry about her. She came back to the old cathedral last week. She looked terrible and said to me, Father, the hotel that I was put in had burned down in a fire. There were fires in North City and she needed a little bit of money to get some food so she could live out the day and get back to the charity to find a new place to live. But I was so struck by and actually really a lot of compunction coming in, she hesitated to come to me and she quickly became really embarrassed, so embarrassed that she cried. Some time ago, she had somehow gotten my cell phone number, I think, from a secretary and I had to put a few boundaries there but I guess I didn't treat gently enough the bruised reed and the smoldering wick to my humble shame. She didn't come back for years but now she's back. Apologized and we went into mass together and that's what makes me think about the approach. Question for you, how approachable are you? Better is God approachable in you, in your heart or on you? Your affect, the joy and the sincerity of your face, the gentle attentiveness of your body. Can others draw near to God when they draw near to you? Or are you at times disagreeable, aloof, or even abrasive in your comportment or in your speech? We could put it this way, is the force of grumpy cat, rest in peace, strong in you. Are you approachable? Let's rephrase that with the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Are the love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, kindness, meekness, generosity, self-control of Jesus Christ in and on you. The lesson that I learned yesterday from Thomas Aquinas is true. Holiness is the perfection of love from all eternity. That love was poured out into our hearts at baptism and we are topped off with that theological virtue every time we receive the Eucharist when we are given to participate in his very nature. I might have learned this lesson from Thomas but I first encountered it in earnest in Pat. As Father St. Andre mentioned, a value of Franciscan University is encounter. And so I encourage and urge you today as you strive to grow in holiness in your own vocations. Make God's big five attributes of Exodus 34.6 readily, unflinchingly available in your vocation, in your hearts and in your homes for all to see. God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in loyal and forgiving love. Read and reread that text, frame it. Get to know God in that way as that way. The medieval rabbi, Moses Maimonides, commented on Leviticus 19,2, Be holy as I am holy by saying, What is God's holiness? Be gracious as he is gracious. Be merciful as he is merciful. By thereby availing ourselves of who God is, we will more easily make his holiness available to all who approach us. Help us, Jesus, to be merciful as the heavenly Father is merciful so that others may encounter you when they encounter us.