Howdy how's it going? My name's Davy Chappie and it's time to break the mold and play with that crazy putty that is Homebrew. I'm going to talk about the concept of Homebrew when you should use it, when you should leave well enough alone, and I'll give a few examples of how I spice up the bed life of my own D&D campaigns. Keep in mind, as always, that a lot of this is just my opinion, so if you feel like this is a face that you wouldn't want creeping around your Homebrew, feel free to run your game however you want, but with that out of the way, let's begin.  In the hands of a good DM who knows how to separate the crop from the crap, this can be a breath of fresh air that helps players to invest in the game that can otherwise only have so many options. In the moist sweaty hands of a bad DM, Homebrew turns a once recognizable, lovable game of might and magic into an unrecognizable cesspool, where Edge Lordington and Weeb Protaginton have to travel on their warble horses to defeat Darth Vader in the power of going home before bedtime. The world stops making sense, the borders between cardboard and reality blur, and you will no longer be able to unlock Steam achievements. It is for this reason that you need to know when and when not to add Homebrew material to your own games. Do add Homebrew, because you find a cool mechanic that can help people enjoy the game more, you want to add more options for players in an admittedly options-like edition of the game, or for the meme. Do not add Homebrew, because a player approached you with his totally legit subclass that couldn't possibly have any imbalances, what do you mean? You want to make EA proud and blindside your players with surprise mechanics, or for the meme. If a particular Homebrew is able to fit in with the type of game that you and your players are trying to play, then awesome, feel free to add it in. But if a Homebrew item feels intrusive and too much of an unwanted distraction from the core game, then don't be afraid to say no to it, or remove it after the fact if you had implemented it without understanding the full ramifications of what that would bring. Mostly with Homebrew, you sort of want to start slow, baby steps, and change one or two things in your game just to see how it reacts to other things of its type, like changing a damage value and comparing it to damage values that weren't changed. Once you start to understand the nuance of how the rulebook ecosystem works, which honestly you'll start to figure out naturally the more you play the game, then you'll probably start to figure out what Homebrews will fit right into whatever your group finds the base game lacking in, and what Homebrews will just be awful. In my experience, there are two main types of Homebrew. The ones that are simple changes to the base game or adjustments to the rules, and the ones that are completely new mechanics that change the way the game is played in its entirety. Now, in the past, I've been very vocal about my dislike of Homebrew. It's bad, it's unregulated, it's illegal. But if you've ever played Payday with me, then you know that the C in Chappy stands for crime. So in my games, I have a lot of edits to things that I feel make my games run a bit more smoothly. For instance, I remove negative ability scores on the Cobalt in New York. I give the Dragonborn the Dragonhide feat for free because Dragonborn just don't have enough in their base format. I pull back the Lucky Feet's power so that it can only be used on your own roles and only before you know the outcome. And I changed Healing Spirit, the most broken heal in the game, to only heal each person that enters at once. I've got other little things like that, but I think you get the picture that all of these changes were done to either streamline the game or fix something that I perceived as either somewhat lacking or completely downright broken. Luckily, since these changes are so minor, if a group really hates that alteration, it's a simple fix to undo it and just go back to our game. But when you get to the bigger Homebrew changes, that's when you have to be careful because now we're playing with the primordial soup that is game design. The biggest changes to the game affect the way that it's played on a much more drastic level, with most prominent of them being things that will completely change the way the game is played. For instance, in my games, if you go down to 0 HP and then are picked back up via magic, then you also gain a level of exhaustion to go with it. To reflect the idea of your character literally just having gone through the horrors of being stabbed 47 times, only to be pulled back into the waking world by a demigod and a nightgown and told to do it again. In mechanical terms, the change prevents players from just having one tank in front that'll get knocked down and then picked up and then knocked down and picked up and knocked up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start, over and over and over, with no consequence to playing so fast and loose. But, as I was pointing out earlier, this changes the ecosystem of the game because now there's suddenly a new method of gaining exhaustion that appears very, very often and exhaustion has always been hard to get rid of, which is why the Berserker Barbarian isn't invited to parties. So, when I made the change that makes exhaustion much more common, I also had to change exhaustion to make it easier to get rid of. Now, instead of only losing one level of exhaustion per long rest, you instead get rid of all of them, so it actually helps buff the Berserker Barbarian a little as well. The balance of the ecosystem is what you have to think about when implementing homebrew into your games. But, if you can figure that part out and make sure that nothing becomes too powerful, then you'll be able to do more than just stick a bunch of homebrew at the wall and throw darts at them. Other major homebrew rules that I use are a new mechanic for the wizard that lets them roll arcana when they see a spell being cast and if they roll high enough, then they understand the properties well enough to add it to their spellbook, provided they can still afford the normal cost. And I also maintain that if you roll a 1 or 2 on your dice when firing at someone who has half cover due to someone else being in the way, then your shot will hit the person in the way to compensate for firing towards that person, even if that's not who you meant to hit. All these things are mechanics that change the way my players approach encounters, since they now have to position themselves in places where they won't have negatives applied to them, but they also know that enemies need to do that as well. So, now, armed with both the knowledge and examples of how to pull on the threads of the game to make a whole new crochet of crap, you can go forward and brew all the homes you want. But, that'll about do it. I hope you enjoyed this video. Leave a like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell, join my Discord, join my Patreon so that I can forward lamb sauce to go with my brewery. And remember that the reason why our housing economy is so terrible is because the boomers already brewed all the good homes. But yeah, dev'ya.


Peter Klaus the Goatherd by James Baldwin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Kalinda Peter Klaus the Goatherd by James Baldwin. In the village of Zittendorf in Germany there dwelt a long time ago a poor but worthy man whose name was Peter Klaus. All the people from miles around knew Peter. He was not fond of hard work. He could not have been persuaded for all the money in the world to spend his days in a shop tinkering at a trade. He liked to be out of doors. He liked to wander at his ease in the fields in the woods enjoying the sunlight and the flowers and the songs of the birds. Since he could not be induced to follow any occupation in the village, his neighbors sometimes hired him to take care of their goats. Every morning he drove a great flock of billies and nannies out upon the slopes of the Kufhoyzo mountain. And while they browsed upon the grass, he wandered around in the groves and glens or went to sleep on the sunny slope of some great rock. In the evening he got the goats together and drove them slowly back to the village. This was just the kind of life that he liked and he wished no grander title than that of Peter Klaus the Goatherd. One morning, soon after reaching the pasture, Peter missed the prettiest nanny goat in the flock. He hunted for her among the rocks and in the thickets of underbrush. He called her. He climbed to the top of the hill whence he could see all over the country for miles around, but no stray goat could he find. When evening came and it was time to go home he was in great despair. Should he go home and say that he had lost one of his flock? Such a thing had never happened before. But what was his surprise upon rounding up the flock to see the lost nanny in its midst? The same thing happened for several days. Every morning nanny would disappear and nothing could be seen of her until late in the evening when she would suddenly join her fellows and run, frisking and playing back to the village. Peter was much puzzled. For do what he could he was unable to find out what the frolicking creature did with herself during the day. At length he made up his mind not to take his eyes off her during the whole day. He watched her closely and saw that when the flock passed the corner of an old broken down wall at the foot of a hill she quietly dropped behind and was out of sight in a moment. Peter examined the wall. He had seen it many a time before. People said that it was part of the ruins of an old castle. As he looked closely he saw that just behind a Hawthorne bush there was a hole large enough for a goat or even a man on all fours to pass through. This then was the place where nanny disappeared so strangely. Indeed she had worn quite a path beneath the Hawthorne and the only wonder was that her master had not discovered it before. The next day Peter watched her as before and when she ran slyly through the wall he followed her. After creeping on his hands and knees for some distance he found himself in a long and lofty cavern. The sunlight streamed through some crevices in the rocks and made the place look quite light and cheerful. At the farther end he saw nanny busily picking up some oats that were scattered on the floor. How did the oats come there? The plump grains were constantly trickling down from above and the goat had nothing to do but stand and eat. Peter could not understand it but as he came near her he heard the stamping of heavy feet overhead and the whinnying of horses. Oh somebody has a stable up there he said to himself but how can that be? I have been all over these hills and have never seen even the sign of a house. As he was looking about him a door in the side of the cavern suddenly opened and a queer little fellow with a big head and saucer eyes came in. Good morning to you sir said Peter thinking it was the stable man. I beg you will pardon me for coming in without any invitation. Is there anything I can do to serve you? The little man made no answer but looked at Peter funnily with those great eyes and beckoned him to follow. Peter was too good natured to refuse and besides this he was curious to learn all about the strange place. So he followed his queer guide through the door and up a long flight of stairs until he again felt the warm sun on his cheeks and saw the green grass beneath his feet. He saw that he was now in a square courtyard surrounded by stone walls and shaded by tall trees. His guide led him through another broad cavern and then out upon a green lawn that was fenced in on every side by tall cliffs and rocky heights. Near one end of the lawn were twelve old fashioned knights playing at nine pins. The knights were dressed in a very queer way. They wore long hose and silver buckled shoes. Their snow white hair and beards reached almost to their knees. They scarcely noticed Peter so busy were they at their game and not one of them spoke a word. The guide motioned to Peter to pick up the nine pins and return the bowls to the bowlers. Peter was so badly frightened by the strangeness of everything that he dared not disobey. Trumbling in every limb he hastened to serve the knights as he was bitten. He noticed as the bowls were rolled over the lawn that they made a noise like thunder rumbling among the hills and this frightened him still more. By and by however he began to gain courage. As the players were never in a hurry he learned to humor himself and to do his work as slowly as he pleased. Looking around him he saw a pitcher of wine and twelve golden goblets on a table at the end of the lawn. He did not stop to think that the goblets were for the knights and that there was none for him. He was very thirsty and he drank right out of the pitcher. The wine made him very brave. He felt that he would rather pick up nine pins than mind his neighbor's goats and every time one of the bowls rolled toward the table he would run and take another sip from the pitcher. At last however his head began to feel heavy and while he was in the act of picking up the nine pins he fell gently over upon the grass and went to sleep. When Peter Claus awoke he found himself lying on the grass where he had been in the habit of feeding his goats. He sat up and looked around. There were the same rocks upon which he had sat a hundred times. There were the same hills among which he had so often wandered and there was the same noisy brook along which he had walked a thousand times with so much delight. But the trees and shrubs seemed strange to him. They were much larger than when he had seen them before and there were many new ones that he did not remember. He looked for his goats but they were nowhere in sight. He called but not one of them came to him. He started out to seek them but was surprised to see that all the well-known paths among the hills were overgrown with tall grass. He rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was awake. Strange, strange he muttered. I will go back to the village and see if the beasts are there. His legs were so stiff that walking was a hard task. He stumbled along slowly wondering why the rheumatism should trouble him so much. After a while he came to a spot from which he could see the village spread out before him at the bottom of the valley. It was the same pretty village of Zittendorf. He could not see that he had changed. He hurried along to the main road hoping to find his flock there but not a goat could he see. Before reaching the village he met a number of people but they were all strangers to him and they looked at him so clearly that he did not dare to ask any questions. In the village the women and children stood in their doorways and stared at him as he passed. All were strangers to him. He noticed that some of them stroked their chins and laughed and without thinking much about it he put his hand to his own chin. What was his surprise to find that he had a beard more than a foot long? Ah, me thought he! Am I mad? And has all the world gone mad too? Where am I? But he knew that the village was Zittendorf for there were the church and the long street which he knew so well and towering above them was the great Kufhoyzer Mountain looking just as it did when he was a child. He went on until he came to his own house. It was greatly altered. The roof was beginning to fall in, the door was off its hinges, the rooms were empty and bare. He called his wife and children by their names but no one answered him. A strange dog came around the corner and snarled at him. A strange man in the next door yard looked over the fence and told him to go away. Soon a crowd of idlers and women and children gathered around him. They were laughing at his long beard and his tattered clothes. A woman who seemed more thoughtful than the rest asked him what he wanted. I don't know what I want he answered. I came here to find my goats and I find everything and everybody lost. Does anybody know? He was about to inquire for his wife and children but he thought how odd that would seem and stopped short. He was silent for a moment. Then he looked around at the circle of strange faces and asked, Where is Court Steffen, the blacksmith? The crowd stared at him but no one spoke. Then an old woman who had hobbled across the street to look at him answered, Court Steffen, why Court Steffen went to the wars years and years ago, nobody has heard from him since. Poor Peter Claus looked around him more days than ever. His lips quivered pitifully as he asked, Then where is Valentina Meyer, the shoemaker? Ah, me! answered another old woman. Valentina has been lying for nearly twenty years in a house that he will never leave. Peter thought that he had seen both of the old women before but as he remembered them they were young and handsome and of about his own age. He was about to ask another question when he saw a sprightly young mother who looked very much like his wife coming down the street. She was leading a little girl about four years of age and on her arm was a year old baby. He staggered and rubbed his eyes and leaned against the wall for support. Does anybody know Peter Claus, the goat herd? he stammered. Peter Claus cried the young mother. Why, that was my father's name. It is now twenty years since he was lost. His flock came home without him one evening and all the village searched night and day among the hills and on the mountain but could not find him. I was then only four years old.  My name is Maria, was the answer, but I am no longer little Maria. And I am your father, cried Peter. I am Peter Claus who was lost. Don't any of you know Peter Claus? All who heard him were filled with astonishment and Maria with her two children rushed into his arms crying, Welcome Father, welcome home again. I felt sure it was you as soon as I saw you. And soon all the old people in the village came to greet him. Peter Claus, yes, yes, it seems only yesterday that you drove our goats to the pasture. How time does fly, welcome old neighbor, welcome home after being away twenty years. Such is the old, old story of Peter Claus. Hundreds of years ago the people of Germany talked about it and laughed over it. It is perhaps even older than the second part of the legend of Frederick Barbarossa, which, as you will remember, has some resemblance to it and also relates to a mysterious cavern in the Kufheuser Mountain. End of Peter Claus The Goat Heard Recording by Kalinda in Lüneburg, Germany, on February 15th, 2009. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. Pigs Is Pigs by Ellis Parker Butler Mike Flannery, the Westcote agent of the interurban express company, leaned over the counter of the express office and shook his fist. Mr. Morehouse, angry and red, stood on the other side of the counter, trembling with rage. The argument had been long and heated, and at last Mr. Morehouse had talked himself speechless. The cause of the trouble stood on the counter between the two men. It was a soapbox across the top of which were nailed a number of strips, forming a rough but serviceable cage. In it two spotted guinea pigs were greedily eating lettuce leaves. Do as you like then, shouted Flannery, pay for them and take them, or don't pay for them and leave them be. Rules is rules, Mr. Morehouse, and Mike Flannery's not going to be called down for breaking of them.  Can't you read it here, in your own plain printed rates? Pets, domestic, Franklin to Westcote, if properly boxed, twenty-five cents each. He threw the book on the counter in disgust. What more do you want, aren't they pets? Aren't they domestic? Aren't they properly boxed? What? He turned and walked back and forth rapidly, frowning ferociously. Suddenly he turned to Flannery and, forcing his voice to an artificial calmness, spoke slowly but with intense sarcasm. Pets, he said, P-E-T-S, twenty-five cents each. There are two of them, one, two, two times twenty-five are fifty. Can you understand that? I offer you fifty cents. Flannery reached for the book. He ran his hands through the pages and stopped at page sixty-four. And I don't take fifty cents. He whispered in mockery. Is the rule for it? When the agent be in any doubt regarding which of two rates applies to a shipment, he shall charge the larger. The consignee may file a claim for the overcharge. In this case, Mr. Morehouse, I be in doubt. Pets, them animals may be. And domestic they might be. But pigs, I'm blame-sure they do be.  Pigs, Franklin to Westcott, thirty cents each. And Mr. Morehouse, by me, our mathematical knowledge, two times thirty comes to sixty cents. Mr. Morehouse shook his head savagely. He shouted.   Flannery was stubborn. Pigs is pigs. He declared firmly. Guinea pigs, or dago pigs, or Irish pigs, is all the same to the inter-oven express company and to Mike Flannery. The nationality of the pig creates no differentiality in the rate. Mr. Morehouse would be the same was they Dutch pigs or Russian pigs. Mike Flannery. He added. Mr. Morehouse hesitated. He bit his lip and then flung out his arms wildly. Very well. He shouted. You shall hear of this. Your president shall hear of this. It is an outrage. I have offered you fifty cents. You refuse it. Keep the pigs. You shall hear of this. Your president shall hear of this. It is an outrage. I have offered you fifty cents. You refuse it. Keep the pigs until you are ready to take the fifty cents. But by George, sir, if one hair of those pigs' heads is harmed, I will have the law on you. He turned and stalked out, slamming the door. Flannery carefully lifted the soapbox from the counter and placed it in a corner. He was not worried. He felt the peace that comes to a faithful servant who has done his duty and done it well. Mr. Morehouse went home raging. His boy, who had been awaiting the guinea pigs, knew better than to ask for them. He was a normal boy and therefore always had a guilty conscience when his father was angry, so the boy slipped quietly around the house. There is nothing so soothing to a guilty conscience as to be out of the path of the Avenger. Mr. Morehouse stormed into the house. Where's the ink? He shouted at his wife as soon as his foot was across the door sill. Mrs. Morehouse jumped, guiltily. She never used ink. She had not seen the ink nor moved the ink nor thought of the ink, but her husband's tone convicted her of the guilt of having born and reared a boy. And she knew that, whenever her husband wanted anything in a loud voice, the boy had been at it. I'll find Sammy. She said, meekly. When the ink was found, Mr. Morehouse wrote rapidly, and he read the completed letter and smiled a triumphant smile. That'll settle that crazy Irishman. He exclaimed, when they get that letter he'll hunt another job all right. A week later, Mr. Morehouse received a long official envelope with the card of the Interurban Express Company in the upper left-hand corner. He tore it open eagerly and drew out a sheet of paper. At the top it bore the number A-6754. The letter was short. Subject, rate on guinea pigs. It said, Dear sir, we are in receipt of your letter regarding rate on guinea pigs between Franklin and Westcott addressed to the president of this company. All claims for overcharge should be addressed to the claims department. Mr. Morehouse wrote to the claims department. He wrote six pages of choice sarcasm, vituperation, and argument, and sent them to the claims department. A few weeks later he received a reply from the claims department. Attached to it was his last letter. Dear sir, said the reply, Your letter of the sixteenth addressed to this department, subject rate on guinea pigs from Franklin to Westcott, received. We have taken up the matter with our agent at Westcott, and his reply is attached herewith. He informs us that you refused to receive the consignment, or to pay the charges. You have therefore no claim against this company, and your letter regarding the proper rate on the consignment should be addressed to our tariff department. Mr. Morehouse wrote to the tariff department. He stated his case clearly, and gave his arguments in full. Quoting a page or two from the encyclopedia to prove that guinea pigs were not common pigs. With the care that characterizes corporations when they are systematically conducted, Mr. Morehouse's letter was numbered, okayed, and started through the regular channels. Duplicate copies of the bill of lading manifest Flannery's receipt for the package, and several other pertinent papers were pinned to the letter, and they were passed to the head of the tariff department. The head of the tariff department put his feet on his desk, and yawned. He looked through the papers carelessly. Miss Kane, he said to his tenographer, Take this letter, agent Westcott, New Jersey. Please advise why consignment referred to inattached papers was refused domestic pet rates. Miss Kane made a series of curves and angles on her notebook, and waited with the pencil poised. The head of the department looked at the papers again. Ha! guinea pigs! He said, Probably start to death by this time. Add this to that letter. Give condition of consignment at present. He tossed the papers onto the stenographer's desk, took his feet from his own desk, and went out to lunch. When Mike Flannery received the letter, he scratched his head. Give present condition? He repeated thoughtfully. Now what do them clerks be wanting to know, I wonder? Present condition, is it? Them pigs pray Saint Patrick, do be in good health, so far as I know. But I never was no veterinary surgeon to daigo pigs.  One thing I do know, however, which is they've glorious appetites for pigs of their size. Eight, they'd ate the brass padlocks off a barn door if I, the patty pig, buy the same token. Eight as arty as these daigo pigs do. Ha! there'd be a famine in Ireland. To assure himself that his report would be up to date, Flannery went to the rear of the office and looked into the cage. The pigs had been transferred to a larger box, a dry goods box. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. He counted. Seven spotted and one all black, all well and arty and all eaten like rage in hippie potty-musses. He went back to his desk and wrote. Mr. Morgan, Edith Tariff Department. He wrote. Why do I say daigo pigs is pigs because they is pigs and will be till you say they ain't. Which is what the rural book says. Stop your jolying, may you know it as well as I do. As do Elf. They are all well and open, you are the same. P.S. There are eight now, the family increased all good eaters. P.S. I paid out so far two dollars for cabbage, which they like, shall I put in bill for same what? Morgan, head of the Tariff Department, when he received this letter, laughed. He read it again and became serious. By George. He said. Flannery is right, pigs is pigs. I'll have to get authority on this thing. Meanwhile, Miss Kane, take this letter. Agent Westcott, New Jersey. Regarding the shipment, guinea pigs. File number A6754. Rule 83. General instruction to agents. Clearly states that agents shall collect from consignee all costs of provinder, etc., etc., required for livestock while in transit or storage. You will proceed to collect same from consignee. Flannery received this letter next morning, and when he read it, he grinned. Proceed to collect. He said softly. How them clerks do like to be talking. May proceed to collect two dollars and twenty-five cents off Mr. Morehouse. I wonder do them clerks know Mr. Morehouse? I'll get it. Oh yes. Mr. Morehouse, two and a quarter plays. Certainly, my dear friend Flannery, delighted. Ha! Not. Flannery drove the express wagon to Mr. Morehouse's door. Mr. Morehouse answered the bell. Ah ha! He cried as soon as he sawed it was Flannery. So you've come to your senses at last, have you? I thought you would. Bring the box in. I have no box. Flannery coldly. I have a bill against Mr. John C. Morehouse for two dollars and twenty-five cents for cabbages eaten by his daigo pigs. Would you wish to pay it? Pay? Cabbage? Do you mean to say that two little guinea pigs? Eight. Papa and Mama and the six children. Eight. For answer, Mr. Morehouse slammed the door in Flannery's face. Flannery looked at the door reproachfully. I take it the consignee don't want to pay for them cabbages. He said, If I know signs of refusal, the consignee refuses to pay for one dang cabbage leaf and be aimed to me. Mr. Morgan, head of the tariff department, consulted the president of the interurban express company regarding guinea pigs as to whether they were pigs or not pigs. The president was inclined to treat the matter lightly. What is the rate on pigs and pets? He asked. Pigs, thirty cents, a pets twenty-five. Said Morgan. Then, of course, guinea pigs are pigs. Said the president. Yes. Agreed, Morgan. I look at it that way too. A thing that can come under two rates is naturally due to be classed as the higher. But are guinea pigs pigs? Aren't they rabbits? Come to think of it. Said the president. I believe they are more like rabbits, sort of a halfway station between pig and rabbit. I think the question is this. Are guinea pigs of the domestic pig family? I'll ask Professor Gordon. He is authority on such things. Leave the papers with me. The president put the papers on his desk and wrote a letter to Professor Gordon. Unfortunately, the professor was in South America collecting zoological specimens, and the letter was forwarded to him by his wife. As the professor was in the highest Andes, where no white man had ever penetrated, the letter was many months in reaching him. The president forgot the guinea pigs. Morgan forgot them. Mr. Morehouse forgot them. But Flannery did not. One half of his time he gave to the duties of his agency. The other half was devoted to the guinea pigs. Long before Professor Gordon received the president's letter, Morgan received one from Flannery. About them dago pigs. It said, What shall I do? They are great in family life. No rice, suicide for them. There are thirty-two now. Shall I sell them? Do you take this express office for a menagerie? Answer quick! Morgan reached for a telegraph blank and wrote, Agent Westcott, don't sell pigs. He then wrote Flannery a letter calling his attention to the fact that the pigs were not the property of the company, but were merely being held during a settlement of a dispute regarding rates. He advised Flannery to take the best possible care of them. Flannery, letter in hand, looked at the pigs and sighed. The dry-goods box-cage had become too small. He boarded up twenty feet of the rear of the express office to make a large and airy home for them, and went about his business. He worked with feverish intensity when out of his rounds, for the pigs required attention and took most of his time. Some months later, in desperation, he seized the sheet of paper and wrote one hundred and sixty across it and mailed it to Morgan. Morgan returned it, asking for explanation. Flannery replied, There be now one hundred and sixty of them die-go pigs. Forever in sight, let me sell some off. Do you want me to go crazy, what? Sell no pigs. Morgan wired. Not long after this, the President of the Express Company received a letter from Professor Gordon. It was a long and scholarly letter, but the point was that the guinea pig was the cava aparoia, while the common pig was the genus Seuss of the family Suide. He remarked that they were prolific and multiplied rapidly. They are not pigs. Said the President, decidedly to Morgan. The twenty-five percent rate applies. Morgan made the proper notation on the papers that had accumulated in file A6754 and turned them over to the audit department. The audit department took some time to look the matter up and, after the usual delay, wrote Flannery that, as he had on hand one hundred and sixty guinea pigs, the property of consignee, he should deliver them and collect charges at the rate of twenty-five cents each. Flannery spent a day herding his charges through a narrow opening in their cage so that he might count them. Audit department.  There may be was one hundred and sixty guinea pigs once, but wake up, don't be a back number. I've got even eight hundred. Now shall I collect for eight hundred or what? How about sixty-four dollars I paid out for cabbages? It required a great many letters back and forth before the audit department was able to understand why the error had been made of billing one hundred and sixty instead of eight hundred and still more time for it to get the meaning of the cabbages. Flannery was crowded into a few feet at the extreme front of the office. The pigs had all the rest of the room and two boys were employed constantly attending to them. The day after Flannery had counted the guinea pigs there were eight more added to his drove and by the time the audit department gave him authority to collect for eight hundred Flannery had given up all attempts to attend to the receipt or the delivery of goods. He was hastily building galleries around the express office, tier above tier. He had four thousand and sixty-four guinea pigs to care for. More were arriving daily. Immediately following its authorization the audit department sent another letter but Flannery was too busy to open it. They wrote another and then they telegraphed Error in guinea pig bill. Collect for two guinea pigs, fifty cents, deliver all to consignee. Flannery read the telegram and cheered up. He wrote out a bill as rapidly as his pencil could travel over paper and ran all the way over to the Morehouse home. At the gate he stopped suddenly. The house stared at him with vacant eyes. The windows were bare of curtains and he could see into the empty rooms. A sign on the porch said to let. Mr. Morehouse had moved. Flannery ran all the way back to the express office. Sixty-nine guinea pigs had been born during his absence. He ran out again and made feverish inquiries in the village. Mr. Morehouse had not only moved but he had left Westcote. Flannery returned to the express office and found that two hundred and six guinea pigs had entered the world since he left it. He wrote a telegram to the audit department. Can't collect fifty cents for two daigo pigs consignee has left town. Address unknown. What shall I do? Flannery. The telegram was handed to one of the clerks in the audit department and as he read it he left. Ha ha ha! Flannery must be crazy. He ought to know that the thing to do is return the consignment here. Said the clerk. He telegraphed Flannery to send the pigs to the main office of the company at Franklin. When Flannery received the telegram he set to work. The six boys he had engaged to help him also set to work. They worked with the haste of desperate men. Making cages out of soap boxes, cracker boxes, all kinds of boxes and as fast as the cages were completed they filled them with guinea pigs and expressed them to Franklin. Day after day the cages of guinea pigs flowed in a steady stream from Westcote to Franklin and still Flannery and his six helpers ripped and nailed and packed relentlessly and feverishly. At the end of the week they had shipped two hundred and eighty cases of guinea pigs and there were in the express office seven hundred and four more pigs than when they began packing them. Stop sending pigs, warehouse full! came a telegram to Flannery. He stopped packing only long enough to wire back. Caught stop! and kept on sending them. On the next train up from Franklin came one of the company's inspectors. He had instructions to stop the stream of guinea pigs at all hazards. As his train drew up at Westcote station he saw a cattle car standing on the express company's siding. When he reached the express office he saw the express wagon backed up to the door. Six boys were carrying bushel baskets full of guinea pigs from the office and dumping them into the wagon. Inside the room Flannery, with his coat and vest off, was shoveling guinea pigs into bushel baskets with a coal scoop. He was winding up the guinea pig episode. He looked up at the inspector with a snort of anger. Humph! One wagon load more and I'll be quit of them and never will you catch Flannery with no more foreign pigs on his hands. No sir, they near was the death of me. Next time I'll know that pigs of whatever nationality is domestic pigs and go at the lowest rate. He began shoveling again rapidly speaking quickly between breaths. Rules might be rules, but you can't fool Mike Flannery twice with the same trick when it comes to livestock. Time the rules. So long as Flannery runs this express office, pigs is pets and cows is pets and horses is pets and lions and tigers and Rocky Mountain goats is pets and the rate on them is twenty five cents. He paused long enough to tell one of the boys to put an empty basket in the place of the one he had just filled. There were only a few guinea pigs left. As he noted their limited number, his natural habit of looking on the bright side returned. Well, anyhow, he said cheerfully, It is not so bad as it might be. What if them Diego pigs had been elephants? End of Pigs Is Pigs by Ellis Parker Butler, narrated by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California and characterized by Sandra Kincaid in Wales United Kingdom, September 2006. Robinson Crusoe. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. Robinson Crusoe. By an anonymous author, abridged for young readers for the McLaughlin Brothers Aunt Kate series, 1880. I was born at York in the year 1632 of a good family. My father's name was Critsnare, a native of Bremen, who by trading at Hull gained a very plentiful fortune. He married my mother at York, and as her maiden name was Robinson, I was called Robinson Critsnare, which not being easily pronounced in the English tongue, we are now called, and indeed call ourselves, and write our name Crusoe. No pains or charge was spared in my education. My father designing me for the law. Yet nothing would serve me, but I must go to see both against the will of my father, the tears of my mother, and the entreaties of friends. I was then, I think, nineteen years old, when one time, being at Hull, I met a school fellow, going with his father, who was master of a ship to London, and telling him of my roving desires, he assured me of a free passage. Without imploring a blessing, or taking farewell of my parents, I took shipping on the first of September, 1651, for London. After making several voyages from thence to the coast of Guinea, I finally sailed for the Brazils. Then, northward upon the coast, till our ship made Cape Augustine, in order to gain Africa, from Wentz, going further into the ocean, we met with a terrible tempest. When the weather cleared up a little, we found ourselves upon the coast of Guinea. We then laid our course for the leeward islands, but a second storm succeeding, drove us to the westward, so we were afraid of falling into the hands of cruel savages, or the paws of beasts of prey. In this distress, one of our men cried out, Land! Land! Which he had no sooner said then, our ship struck upon a sand bank, and the sea breaking over her, we expected all to have perished immediately. While we stood looking at one another, expecting death every moment, the mate laid hold of the boat, and with the help of the rest, flung it over the ship's side, and all getting in, we committed ourselves to God's mercy. When we had been driven about a league-and-a-half, a large wave came rolling astern of us, and overset the boat. I was overwhelmed with water, going I know not wither, but as I thought into a dismal gulf unknown. While all my companions were overpowered and entombed in the deep, I was, at length, dashed against a piece of rock in such a manner as left me senseless, but recovering a little, before the return of the wave, I pushed forward and reached the mainland. Tired and almost spent, I sank down on the grass by the cliffs of the shore, free from the dangers of the foaming ocean. I cast my eyes around to behold what place I was in. I could see no house nor people. I was wet, yet had no clothes, hungry and thirsty, yet had nothing to eat or drink. The dark-some night coming upon me, I got up into a thick, bushy tree, and seeding myself so that I could not fall, a deep sleep overtook me. It was broad day the next morning before I awoke, and came down from the tree. The tempest had ceased, and the ship lay about a mile from the place where I was. I resolved to swim to the ship, and leaped into the water. After I reached it, I found great difficulty in getting on board. Finding the provisions in good order, I crammed my pockets, and losing no time, ate while I was doing other things. I fell to work, and flung overboard several spare yards, a spare top-mast, or two, and two or three large spars of wood, tying every one of them with a rope that they might not drift away. Then I went down to the ship-side, and tied the spars fast together in the form of a raft, and crossed them with the plank, until I found it would carry a considerable burden. I then considered what I should load it with. I first lowered down all the plank and boards I could get, then three seamen's chests, which I filled with bread, rice, dutch cheese, dried goat's flesh, and corn, some clothes, and some bottles of wine. Next the carpenter's chest, some fouling pieces, powder and shot, besides several other weapons. I then put to sea, and after many trials, landed in a cave on the bank of a little river. Not far off I spied a hill of great height, and there I resolved to go and view the country, that I might see what part of it was best to fix my abode in. I found I was on an island, a place inhabited, probably, only by wild beasts. When I went back to the raft, I brought my effects on shore, and made a kind of hut with my chests and boards, piling the empty chests and casts in a circle to fortify it against any sudden attack. I had been twelve times on board the ship, bringing away all that was possible, including ship stores, carpenters, tools, ammunition, weapons, etc., a compass and spyglass, a large amount of gold and silver, and when I looked out the next morning, the ship was no more to be seen. I now began to think how I should secure myself from savages and wild beasts. At one time I thought of digging a cave, and at another I thought of erecting a tent, and finally I resolved to do both. I found a steep rock by the side of a hill, and there I resolved my tent should stand. I drove in two rows of stakes, enclosing a space of some ten yards, in a half circle. Then with my boards and plank I built me a little castle. I had no door, but went in and out by a ladder which I made. Here was my fortress, into which I carried all my riches, ammunition and stores. After this I added a cellar, thatched the roof, and made many other improvements which cost me many a days, labor and pains. During all this time I yearned for some companion to whom I could talk. I had taken from the ship two cats and a dog, and these often accompanied me in my rambles. On one of these, coming upon some parrots, I knocked one down, and took it home with me. After a while I taught it to talk, and it did much to relieve the dullness of my home.  I had been often thinking of getting a kid or two, and so raising a breed of tame goats, and I thought this a good time to make a beginning. One day I found some barley and rice springing up near my castle. I had emptied an old sack at this place, little thinking that the thoughtless act would point out to me a way of getting an ample supply of food. But so it happened, for it taught me to raise crops. But it was a long time before I learned to grind or sift my grain and to make it into bread. During all my stay on the island I had kept a record of time by cutting a notch each day upon a square post, making the notches longer for Sundays than for other days, and longer for the first day of each month than for Sundays. And as each Sunday came round I made it a day of rest, reading my Bible and giving thanks to God that He had been so merciful to me and made my solitary life so comfortable. A year had now passed and every day I watched and prayed for some means of deliverance from this place, and then I began to think if it was not possible to make a canoe. Such as Indians make out of the trunk of a tree. At last I selected a tree. Twenty days was I hacking and hewing this tree, fourteen and cutting off the limbs, and a month in shaping it like the bottom of a boat. When it was completed I found it was so large that I was unable to get it to the water, and sadly gave up my undertaking. In the height of this work I found I had lived four years upon the island. The next year passed very quietly, and although I was disappointed in my first canoe, I made a second one of much smaller size, but it was two years before I had finished it and got it to the water. I now resolved to make a tour of the island. I set out on the sixth of November in the seventh year of my captivity. After a while I brought my boat safe to a little cove and laid down to take a welcome repose. When I awoke I left the boat and made a trip into the island. I found plenty of delicious fruits and brought many back with me. I saw many goats with their kids, and I conceived the idea of capturing them by making pitfalls and traps baited with barley and rice. I knew that if I wanted to furnish myself with goat's flesh the breeding them up like a flock of sheep about my hut was the only method I could take. On my return from my tour I set some traps and one morning I found in one of them an old he goat and in the other one male and two female kids. It was some time before they would feed, but after throwing them some sweet corn they began to be tamer. I enclosed a piece of ground to keep them in and in about a year and a half's time I had a flock of twelve goats. I often gave them ears of barley or a handful of rice by which means they grew very tame. In two years more I had forty-three beside what I had killed for my living. One day it happened that going to my boat I saw the print of a man's naked foot on the shore. Had I seen a demon of the most frightful shape I could not have been more confounded. I listened and cast my eyes around but could hear nor see anything. I returned to my castle frightened at every bush and tree taking everything for men and my mind filled with the wildest ideas. That night my eyes never closed. In the morning I ventured out of my hut and milked my goats but I was constantly thinking of means to provide me with greater security. I even thought of pulling down my enclosures turning my cattle wild into the woods and digging up my cornfields that the enemy might not find them and learn that I lived upon the island. Some fifteen months afterward in the morning before it was light there appeared from the seashore a flaming light about two miles from me but upon my side of the island I was struck with a terrible surprise and went at once to my castle and pulled the ladder after me. I loaded my muskets and pistols and resolved to defend myself until my last breath. Anxious to see what was going on I went to the top of a hill and there saw nine naked savages eating as I supposed human flesh with two canoes hauled up waiting for the tide to carry them off again. After they had gone I went to the spot and saw the blood bones and parts of the flesh of the human bodies whom they had eaten. I was so fired with anger that I resolved to be revenged on the next who came there. The chance came about a year later but instead of two there were five canoe loads containing over thirty of the savages seeing so great a number my heart sunk within me I saw their horrible orgies and I saw them drag two poor creatures from the boats soon one of them fell upon the ground knocked down as I supposed with a club or wooden sword the other poor creature looked around him with a wistful eye but seeing himself a little at liberty nature as it were inspired him with the hopes of life he started from them and ran swiftly along the sands toward my castle two of the savages pursued him but he ran so nimbly that he gained on them every moment as he drew near my castle I seized my guns and taking a short cut down the hill threw myself between the fugitive and his pursuers hallowing loudly and beckoning them to turn back at the same time advancing on the two who followed him and rushing on the foremost I knocked him down with the stock of my gun I was loath to fire lest the rest should hear the other savage seeing his fellow fall took his bow from his back and was fixing his arrow to shoot me when I was forced to fire and kill him after I had killed the two savages the one pursued was induced to come to me but he did so with fear and trembling and kneeled down and kissed the ground and placing my foot upon his head gave me to understand that he was my slave I took him up and made much of him in the best way I could he was a handsome fellow well made with straight long limbs and seemed about 26 years of age this happened on Friday and I gave him to understand that Friday would be his name because it was upon that day I saved his life then I taught him to say master which I made him sensible was to be my name I took him home with me and fed him I also gave him a suit of clothes such as I had made for myself from the skins of goats and other animals and after a while I taught him to do all the kind of work that I had here to for had to perform not forgetting to instruct him in the Bible and to cease all work on the Sabbath day Friday proved himself a very sincere loving and faithful servant and in a short time could understand nearly all that I said to him and I began to love him and spared no pains to instruct him I too learned many things from him not the least of which was boat building for by his aid and judgment I was enabled to build and launch a large boat which I styled my man of war in which I designed to take me to land where Friday said there were white men living one morning while getting ready for this expedition Friday came running into me as though pursued for life crying oh dear master oh sorrow oh sorrow what's the matter Friday said I oh yonder yonder said he be one two three canoes one two three surely thought I there must be six by my man's way of reckoning but on stricter inquiry I found there were but three well Friday said I don't be terrified I warrant we will not only defend ourselves but kill most of these savages but though I comforted him in the best way I could the poor creature trembled so I scarce knew what to do with him oh master said he they come look Friday cut pieces Friday cut of me up why Friday said I they will eat me up as well as you and my danger is as great as yours but since it is so we must resolve to fight for our lives what say you can you fight Friday yes he said faintly shoot me kill what I can that's no matter said I again our guns will terrify those we do not kill I am very willing to stand by you to the last drop of my blood now tell me if you will do the like by me and obey my orders Friday answered oh master me lose life for you when you bid die we loaded two following pieces four muskets and two pistols and divided them betwixt us hung my sword to my side and gave Friday a hatchet a fine weapon for defense and then under this heavy load of armor which was increased by our extra powder and shot we marched in single file to a thick wood that stood between them and us we found them all about their fires eating the flesh of one of their prisoners and that another lay bound upon the sand I ascended a tree and saw by my glass that a white man lay upon the beach with his hands and feet tied with things like rushes turning to Friday I said now Friday mind what I say fail in nothing but do exactly as you see me do are you ready said I yes master said he then fire at them said I and the same moment I fired also we fired two or three rounds and then rushed upon them the savages were thrown into confusion and so bewildered they knew not what to do cutting loose the white man who proved to be a Spaniard I gave him a sword and pistol and he soon cut two of the savages to pieces before our work of slaughter was done we had killed all but four of the savages and these had fled to one of the canoes I jumped into one of the canoes and bid Friday follow me but here I found another creature bound hand and foot with very little life left in him I bid Friday speak to him and tell him he was safe and give him a dram for my flask as soon as Friday heard him speak he went into transports he kissed embraced and hugged him and laughed danced sung and rung his hands like one distracted and it was a great while before I could make him speak but at last he told me he was his father we rubbed the limbs of the two men whom we had saved and took them to our castle where we gave them plenty to eat and drink a few days afterward when I arrived in Spain I learned that he had been shipwrecked with sixteen of his fellow countrymen and that they were then dragging a pitiful existence on the mainland if I should invite them here said I would they make me a prisoner or would they obey me and work with me in my little kingdom they are honest and true men he replied I learned to act so basely to their deliverer and then he said that if I pleased he and the old savage would go over and talk with them about it and bring me an answer that they should all swear fidelity to me and he would do the same and stand to me with the last drop of his blood so finally I sent them over to the mainland with full power to carry out this agreement scarce a fortnight had passed when impatient for their return I laid down to sleep one morning but was awakened by Friday who called master master they are come I jumped from my bed and seizing my glass looked toward the sea about half a league off I saw a boat climbing the mountain at the back of my castle an English ship as the boat drew near the shore I perceived that three within it were prisoners and I was concerned to know what was the object of their visit to the island I was glad when I saw they were set at liberty while the rascally seamen leaving three in the boat scattered about as though they wished to see the place the three poor distressed creatures too anxious to get any response were seated under the shade of a great tree I approached them and asked what are you gentlemen they all started up don't be afraid said I perhaps you have a friend nearer than you expect he must be from heaven said one of them gravely for we are past the help of man tell me your condition I replied perhaps I can save you the story said he is too long but sir I was master of that ship my men mutinied and as a favor they have put these two men one my mate the other passenger with me on shore without murdering us I then made conditions that they should obey me while on the island and if I recovered their ship they should afford Friday and myself a free passage to England to which they gave a cheerful assent then I gave each a gun with powder and ball sufficient and as the mutineers returned they fired upon them and killed one of the captain's chief enemies and wounded the other who called loudly for help Sirah said the captain going up to him too late to call for assistance you should rather cry to God to pardon your villainy and so he knocked him down with the stock of his gun three others were wounded also and cried out for pardon the captain granted this if they would swear to be true to him in recovering the ship which they solemnly promised to do the other three were easily made prisoners so far all worked very well but still there were 26 hands on board the ship and they were signalizing for their comrades to return we made a small hole in the boat in which they had come on shore this obliged them to send another boat with ten armed men among them were three lads who had been forced into the mutiny leaving three men to look after the boat the other seven started in quest of their companions one of our party led them a wild chase constantly answering their calls and in the meantime we surprised and captured the men in the boat on the return of the other seven we fired at them killing the boatsman and wounding two others while the rest ran about wringing their hands but were glad enough to surrender and submit to be bound the captain then expostulated with them saying the governor of the island was an Englishman who might execute them here but he thought they would all be sent to England they begged piteously to be spared and after a while the captain in the governor's name agreed to pardon them if they would aid him in getting back the ship telling them they would be hanged in chains if they acted in bad faith we set out for the ship in two parties and completely surprised those on board in the scuffle that ensued the pirate chief was shot through the head and a few others were injured nothing now remained but to dispose of the prisoners consulting with the captain I dressed myself in one of his suits and sending for them told them I was going to leave the island with all my people and promised that their lives should be spared if they would stay there they agreed to stay then I told them my story and giving them every information necessary for their subsistence and bidding them farewell went on board the ship the next morning we weighed anchor and Friday and I bade a Jew to the island and after an absence of 28 years two months and 19 days landed in my own country hoping to end my days in peace end of Robinson Crusoe read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California for LibriVox summer 2008 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org today's reading by Tom Hackett by Marion Zimmer Bradley you say that Matthew is your own son, Mr. Emmet yes, Reverend Down and a better boy never stepped if I do say it as shouldn't I've trusted him to drive team former since he was 11 and you can't say more than that for a farm boy way back when he was a little shaver so high when the war came on he was bound on he was going to sail with this Admiral Farragut and he was going to see no good and he's being cabin boy and some Tarnation Navy ship and I told him so if he wanted to sail out on a whaling ship I allow I to let him go but Martha and it's the boy's ma took on so that Matt stayed home yes, he's a good boy and a good son we'll miss him a powerful lot if he gets this scholarship thing but I allow it would be good for the boy to get some learning besides what he gets in the school here if he is your own son Mr. Emmett why did you write birthplace unknown on the line here Reverend Dune I'm glad you asked me that question I've been turning it over in my mind and I've just about come to the conclusion it wouldn't be no how fair to hold it back I didn't lie when I said Matt was my son because he's been a good son to me and Martha but I'm not as pa and Martha ain't as ma so could be I stretched the truth just a mite I swear to it on a stack of bibles as thick as a quart of wood you know I've been farming the old corn in place these past seven years it's good flat Connecticut bottom land but it isn't like our land up in Hampshire where I was born and raised my pa called it the Hampshire Grants I know that was Kingsland when his pa came in there and started farming at the foot of Scuttle Mountain that's engine for fires folks say because the engines used to build fires up there in the spring for some of their heathen do-dads would be a tonal power of queer things you caught a mind the year we had the big thaw about 12 years before the war you mind the blizzard that year I heard tell it spread down most of York and at Fort Orange the place they call Albany now the Hudson froze right over so they say but those York folks do a side of exaggerate and I'm told anyhow when I went out there was an almighty good thaw all over when the snow runoff Scuttle Mountain there was a good sized hunk of farmland and our valley went under water the creek on my farm flowed over the bank and there was a foot of water in the cowshit and down on the swimming hole in the back pasture wasn't nothing but a big gullet 50 foot and more across rushing through the pasture deep as a lake and brand as the old cow you know fresh it floods full up with sticks and stones and old dead trees and some of his old shed floating down the middle and I swear to goodness parts and that stream was running along so fast I saw four inch cobblestones I tied the cow and the calf and Kate she was our white mare you mind she went lame last year and I had to shoot her but she was just a young mare and the skittishes all get out she was a good little mare anyhow I tied the whole kitten caboodle of them in the wood shed up behind the house where they'd be drive and I started to get the milk pail right then I heard the gosh awfulest screech I ever heard of my life sounded like thunder and a fresh morning Martha was already there in the yard and she points up in the sky and you know look at me in there we stood looking up at the sky over Shattuck Mountain where there was a great big shoot now I don't know as I can call its name but it was like a trail of fire in the sky it was making the dangest racket you ever heard Reverend look kind of like one of them for the July sky rocket but it was big as a house Martha was screaming and she grabbed back that river and she don't know what she's saying she's so scared I was plum scared myself I heard Liza that's our youngin Liza Grace that got married to the Taylor boy I heard her crying on the stupid she came flying out with her penny all black and hollered to Martha that the pea soup was burning Marcy let out another screech and ran for the house that's a woman for you so I quietened Liza down some and I went in and told Martha it weren't no more than one of the supper there came the most awful grinding screeching pound and crash I ever heard sounded if it were in the back pasture but the house shook as if something had hit it Martha jumped a mile and I never saw such a look on her face is what was that she asked shoot now nothing but the fresh it I told her but she kept on about it you reckon that shoot star fell in our back pasture is well now I don't know it did nothing like that jitter is an old hand and it weren't like her know how she said it sounded like trouble and I finally quietened her down by saying I'd settle Kate up and go have a look kind of thought though I didn't tell Martha that somebody's house and flowed away in the fresh and run a ground in our back pasture so I sat her up Kate and told Martha to get some hot rum ready in case there were some poor soul run a ground back there and I rode Kate back to the house and I said well I reached the top of the hill and look down the creek were a regular river now rushing along like Niagara on the other side of it was a standing timber in the slope of Shattuck Mountain and I saw right away at the long streak where all the timber had been cut out in a big scoop with the roots standing up in the air and a big slot of rocks down to the water it was still raining a mountain the ground was sloshy and squanchy underfoot Kate was running and wicker and stamp and no matter how loud I wove she kept on a stamp and I was plum scared she'd pitch me off in the mud and I started to smell a funny smell like something burning now don't ask me how anything could burn in all that water because I don't know when we came up on the rise I saw the contraption Reverend it was the most tunnel crazy contraption I ever saw my life it was bigger nor my cow shed and it was long and thin and as shiny rods sticking out behind and a crazy globe fitted up where the top ought to be it was stuck in the mud turned halfway over on a little slide of roots and rocks and I could see what happened all right the thing must have been now Reverend you can see what you like but that thing must have flew across Shattuck and landed on the slope in the trees and turned over and slid down the hill I must have been the crash we heard the rods weren't just red they were red and dark and then hung all to others if every hinge on it had been rinsed halfway off as I pushed old Kate alongside it I heard somebody holler alongside the contraption I didn't know how to get the words but it must have been for help because I looked down and there was a man a flopping along in the water he was a big fella and he wasn't swimming just thrashing and hollering so I pulled off my coat and boots and the stream was running fast but I was in the water until I got my feet aground then I hauled him on to the bank up above me Kate was still whining and raising Ned and I shouted at her as I bent over the man well Reverend he sure did give me a surprise weren't no proper man I'd ever seen before he was wearing some kind of red clothes real shiny and sort of stretchy and not wet from the water like you'd expect but dry and it felt like that silk and India rubber stuff mixed together when I did I knew he were a goner his chest were all stuffed in smashed at pieces one of the old tree roots must have jabbed him as the current flung him down I thought he were dead already but then he opened up his eyes funny color they were green yellow and I swear Reverend when he opened them eyes I felt he was reading my mind I thought maybe he might be one of them circus fellers in English kind of choking and stiff not like Joe the Portuguese sailor like those tunnel dumb Frenchies up Canada way but well funny he said my baby and shit shit baby he tried to say more but his eyes went shut and he moaned hard I yelled God I'm mighty excuse me Reverend but I was so blame upset that's just what I did say God I'm mighty man you mean there's a baby in there just moaned so after spreading my coat around the man a little bit I just plunged in that river again Reverend I heard tell once about some time full idiot going over Niagara in a barrel and I tell you is like that when I tried crossing that freshest or eats the contraption I went under and down and was whacked by floating sticks and rolled around in the fresh it but somehow I don't know how set by the pure grace of God I called it that word no shit Reverend it was some flying dragon kind of thing it was a real scare looking thing but I come up the little door and hauled myself inside it and sure enough there was other people in the cabin on that they was all dead there was a lady and a man and some kind of an animal looked like a bobcat on the smaller with a funny shaped rooster comb thing on its head they all even a cat thing was wearing clothes and they all so battered and smashed I didn't even bother to hunt for their heartbeat I could see by look they was dead as a door now and I heard a funny little whimper like a kitten in a funny rubber cushion thing there's a little boy baby looked about six months old he was howling lusty enough and when I lifted him out of the cradle kind of thing I saw why that boy baby he was wet and his little arm was twisted under him at their flying contraption all it did to him was jolt him good I looked around but I couldn't find anything to wrap him in and the baby didn't have a stitch on him except a sort of spongy paper diaper what is saying so I finally lifted up the lady with a long cape thing around her and I took the cape off for a real gentle I knew she was dead and she wouldn't be needing it and that boy baby would catch the death of that took him out bare naked like that she was probably the mother of the baby now make a long story short I got that baby boy back across the Niagara fall somehow and made him down by his paw man opened his eyes kind and said in a chokey voice take care baby I told him I would and said I'd try to get him up to the house where Martin can doctor him the man told me not to bother I dying he says we come from planet star up there crash here his voice trail off into a language I couldn't understand and he looked like he was praying I bent over and held his head on my knees really easy and I said don't worry mister I'll take care of your little fella until your folks come after him before God I will the man closed his eyes and I said my father which art in heaven and when I got through he was dead I got him up on Kate but he was cruel heavier for all he was such a tall skinny fella and I wrapped that up and the next day I buried the fella in the south met her and next meeting day we had the baby baptized Matthew Daniel Emmett and bring him up just like our own kids that's all all mr. Emmett didn't you ever find out where that ship really came from while Reverend he said it come from a star non man don't lie you know that I asked the teacher about them planets he mentioned and she says that on one of the planets can't rather she says some big scientists feather with a telescope saw canals on that planet and they'd have to be pretty near as big as this here Erie canal see them so far off and if they could build canals on that planet I know why they couldn't build a fine machine I went back the next day when the water was down a little and see if I couldn't get the rest of them folks and bury them with the fine machine and broke up and washed down not make them feel funny to think you didn't really belong to us but but mr. Emmett didn't anybody ask questions about the baby were you got it well now how loud it was curious because Mark they hadn't been in a family way and they knew it but up here folks minds their own business pretty well and I just let them wonder I told Liza Grace I'd found her new little brother in the back pastor and of course with truth when Liza Grace came to me differences from the other children that you could see well Reverend not so as you could notice it he's powerful smart but his real pond mom must have been right smart to to build a fine contraption that could come so far of course when you were about 12 years old he started reading folks minds which didn't seem exactly right you tell Marty what I was thinking and things like that you just at the pesky age thinking and these the gals about telling them what the boys are thinking about there weren't no harm to the ball though it was all teasing but it just weren't decent somehow so I took him out behind the woodshed and gave his britches a good dust and just to remind him that that kind of thing won't polite know how and Reverend down he ain't never done it since and of year of the big thaw by


Now we're going to hear from the student elected to speak on behalf of the bachelor's class of 2019 Jareen Fish Jareen has been Jareen has been incredibly active during her time at Michigan to say the least She's been a varsity athlete for the maize and blue competing in hurdles and long jumps and other things I don't understand on the track and field team She's completed internships for Wolverine Pathways and the National Family Planning and Reproductive Health Association Jareen was the vice president of Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority the outreach chair for students of color In public policy and a writer for the South Campus Times She's been a valued member of our students services team this past year serving as a peer advisor for other undergraduate students Next year. We have the great good fortune that she will remain on campus pursuing a master's of management degree at UM's Ross School of Business I'm so pleased to welcome Jareen Fish to the podium Hi everyone Thank You Miss Norris and Professor Lance. I could not have asked for better opening acts But in all seriousness, I stand here before you all distinguished guests faculty and staff Family friends and most importantly graduates honored to be delivering the BA remarks Truth be told I only had about a half a second to enjoy being selected to give the speech before I realized I meant I had one more final In between you and I I had no idea what I was going to say let alone how I was going to say it yet Slowly, but surely everything began to fall into place I'd like to start of my speech with a story about an eighth grader who much like the BA cohort in front of you was very type A For she believed everything had to go a certain way and this led her to outlining her entire life Yet, I am not convinced this was an outline more so than it was a detailed essay as not only did this outline Name the college she was going to but it also had her postgraduate plans and even the year she was going to get married Rumor has it the outline even named the type of engagement ring she wanted Needless to say she thought she had her entire life planned out Okay, it was me. I Was a little eighth grader and now fast forward eight years. I did not like the college I thought was my dream school. I am not on the track to become the bachelorette in five years and I do not have the mental capacity to think about marriage for at least another couple of decades I'm sure my dad is ecstatic about that one For that same girl who thought she had her world figured out is standing before a crowd Basking in her uncertainty more confident than anyone could imagine I Have only Michigan to thank for this confidence not only has the school shattered my hopes and dreams over and over again from Eating sleep for dinner Stripping me of my beloved Michigan time forcing me to show up my 830 instead of 840 or even being waitlisted to the Ford School of Public Policy But it has also granted me the opportunities of a lifetime from shaking the hands of both President Obama and Justice Sotomayor To finally being admitted to the number two public policy institution in the nation Granted me access to probably the most impressive faculty and staff in the world Yet as I said hopes and dreams were shattered Though it was a fun journey and it was fun getting here today was not easy Every year more uncertain than the next and this was stressful for a girl who literally thought she had her entire life figured out at 13 Last year was probably the most frightening year of them all new school new people new degree requirements and In reality, I do not think my cohort handled this change in scenery. Well at all not even by a long shot While I did not suffer through pub Paul 330. It was okay. I was having my own fun with econ 401 I was there for the op-eds. I was there for pub Paul 476 and I was there for the holiday skit You can actually graduate about these later, but let's just say this cohort embodies strange bedfellows Each of us as passionate as the next Yet amidst our disagreements We also shared a lot of good times from the charity auction to two wine not two wine nights at Dean bars house To two bar crawls. Yes, we've been celebrating since last semester This cohort cohort has learned to come together for just like this speech. Everything has worked out So to the Ford community Thank you all for your encompassing support to my family and friends and really my mom my truest believer Thank you for everything you've done for me to be here today for I would not be here without you to the parents Thank you all for allowing me to share this space space with your children I can tell you from personal experience. You all have done one heck of a job and To the cohort. Thank you all for two of the best years of my life You have allowed me to laugh in a policy school during the most polarized time in history I have no idea what the future holds but as professor Cabo told me I know things will work out because you all are some of the most brilliant thinkers I have ever encountered and I know whatever you accomplish will be nothing short of exceptional Just remember uncertainty grants confidence. We did it and go blue Thank you. Thank you, Jareen