The Bloomsbury Crissening Mr. Nicodemus Dumps, or as his acquaintance called him, Long Dumps, was a bachelor six feet high and fifty years old, cross cadaverous, odd, and ill-natured. He was never happy but when he was miserable, and always miserable when he had the best reason to be happy.  He was afflicted with a situation in the bank worth five hundred a year, and he rented a first floor furnished at Pentonville, which he originally took because it commanded a dismal prospect of an adjacent churchyard. He was familiar with the face of every tombstone, and the burial service seemed to excite his strongest sympathy. His friend said he was surly. He insisted he was nervous. They thought him a lucky dog, but he protested that he was the most unfortunate man in the world. Cold as he was, and wretched as he declared himself to be, he was not wholly unsusceptible of attachments. He revered the memory of Hoyle as he was himself an admirable and imperturbable wist player, and he chuckled with the light at a fretful and impatient adversary. He adored King Herod for his massacre of the innocents, and if he hated one thing more than another, it was a child. However, he could hardly be said to hate anything in particular, because he disliked everything in general. But perhaps his greatest antipathies were cams, old women, doors that would not shut musical amateurs and omnibus cans. He subscribed to the society for the suppression of vice, for the pleasure of putting a stop to any harmless amusements, and he contributed largely towards the support of two itinerant Methodist Parsons in the amiable hope that if circumstances rendered any people happy in this world they might perchance be rendered miserable by fears for the next. Mr. Dump's had a nephew who had been married about a year, and who was somewhat of a favourite with his uncle because he was an admirable subject to exercise his misery-creating powers upon. Mr. Charles Kitterbell was a small, sharp spare man with a very large head and a broad good-humoured countenance.  His eyes apparently fixed on the wall, and he was staring you out of countenance. In short, there was no catching his eye, and perhaps it is a merciful dispensation of providence that such eyes are not catching. In addition to these characteristics it may be added that Mr. Charles Kitterbell was one of the most credulous and matter-of-fact little personages that ever took to himself a wife and for himself a house in Great Russell Street, Bedford Square. Uncle Dump's always dropped the Bedford Square, and inserted in lieu thereof the dreadful words Tottingham Court Road. "'No, but uncle, upon my life you must—you must promise to be Godfather,' said Mr. Kitterbell, as he sat in conversation with his respected relative one morning. "'I cannot—indeed I cannot,' returned Dump's. "'Well, but why not? Jemima will think it very unkind, it's very little trouble. As to the trouble rejoined the most unhappy man in existence, I don't mind that. My nerves are in that state. I cannot go through the ceremony. You know I don't like going out, for God's sake, Charles, don't fidget with that stool, so you'll drive me mad.' Mr. Kitterbell, quite regardless of his uncle's nerves, had occupied himself for some ten minutes in describing a circle on the floor, with one leg of the office stool on which he was seated, keeping the other three up in the air and holding fast on by the desk. "'I beg your pardon, uncle,' said Kitterbell, quite abashed, suddenly releasing his hold of the desk, and bringing the three wandering legs back to the floor with a force sufficient to drive them through it. "'But come, don't refuse. If it's a boy, you know we must have two Godfathers. "'If it's a boy,' said Dumpse, why can't you say it once whether it is a boy or not? "'I should be very happy to tell you, but it's impossible I can undertake to say whether it's a girl or a boy if the child isn't born yet.' "'Not born yet,' echoed Dumpse, with a gleam of hope lighting up his legubrious visage. "'Oh, well, it may be a girl, and then you won't want me. "'Or if it's a boy, it may die before it is christened.' "'I hope not,' said the father, that expected to be, looking very grave. "'I hope not,' acquiesced Dumpse, evidently pleased with the subject. He was beginning to get happy. "'I hope not. But distressing cases frequently occur during the first two or three days of a child's life. Fits, I am told, are exceedingly common, and alarming convulsions are almost matters of course. Lord Uncle, ejaculated little Kitterbell, gasping for breath. Yes, my landlady was confined, let me see, last Tuesday, an uncommonly fine boy. On the Thursday night the nurse was sitting with him upon her knee before the fire, and he was as well as possible. Suddenly he became black in the face, an alarmingly spasmodic. The medical man was instantly sent for, and every remedy was tried, but how frightful interrupted the horror-stricken Kitterbell. The child died, of course. However, your child may not die, and if it should be a boy, and should live to be christened, I suppose I must be one of the sponsors.' Dumpse was evidently good-natured on the faith of his anticipations. Thank you, Uncle," said his agitated nephew, grasping his hand as warmly as if he had done him some essential service. Perhaps I had better not tell Mrs. K. what you have mentioned. Well, she's low-spirited. Perhaps you had better not mention the melancholy case to her, return Dumpse, who of course had invented the whole story. Though perhaps it would be but doing your duty as a husband to prepare her for the worst. A day or two afterwards, as Dumpse was perusing a morning paper at the chap-house, which he regularly frequented, the following paragraph met his eyes. Births. On Saturday the eighteenth instant, in Great Russell Street, the lady of Charles Kitterbell Esquire of a son—'It is a boy,' he exclaimed, dashing down the paper to the astonishment of the waiters. It is a boy! But he speedily regained his composure as his eye rested on a paragraph quoting the number of infant deaths from the bills of mortality. Six weeks passed away, and as no communication had been received from the Kitterbells, Dumpse was beginning to flatter himself that the child was dead, when the following note painfully resolved his doubts. Great Russell Street, Monday morning. Dear uncle, you will be delighted to hear that my dear Jemima has left her room, and that your future godson is getting on capitally. He was very thin at first, but he is getting much larger, and Nurse says he is filling out every day. He cries a good deal, and is a very singular cutter, which made Jemima and me rather uncomfortable. But as Nurse says it's natural, and as of course we know nothing about these things yet. We are quite satisfied with what Nurse says. We think he will be a sharp child, and Nurse says she sure he will, because he never goes to sleep. You will readily believe that we are all very happy, only when a little worn out for want of rest as he keeps us awake all night, but this we must expect, Nurse says, for the first six or eight months. He has been vaccinated, but in consequence of the operation being rather awkwardly performed, some small particles of glass were introduced into the arm with the matter. Perhaps this may in some degree account for his being rather fractious, at least so Nurse says. We propose to have him christened at twelve o'clock on Friday at St. George's Church in Heart Street by the name of Frederick Charles William.  We shall have a very few friends in the evening, when of course we shall see you. I am sorry to say that the dear boy appears rather restless and uneasy to-day, the cause I fear is fever. Believe me, dear uncle, yours affectionately, Charles Kitterbell. P.S. I open this note to say that we have just discovered the cause of little Frederick's restlessness. It is not fever as I apprehended, but a small pin which Nurse accidentally stuck in his leg yesterday evening. We have taken it out, and he appears more composed, though he still sobs a good deal. It is almost unnecessary to say that the perusal of the above interesting statement was no great relief to the mind of the hypochondriacal dumps. It was impossible to recede, however, and so he put the best face—that is to say, an uncommonly miserable one, upon the matter—and purchased a handsome silver mug for the infant Kitterbell, upon which he ordered the initials F.C.W.K. with the customary untrained grapevine-looking flourishes and a large full stop to be engraved forthwith. Monday was a fine day. Tuesday was delightful. Wednesday was equal to either, and Thursday was finer than ever—four successive fine days in London. Hackney Coachman became revolutionary, and crossing sweepers began to doubt the existence of a first cause. The morning herald informed its readers that an old woman in Campton Town had been heard to say that the finest of the season was unprecedented in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, and Islington Clarks, with large families and small salaries, left off their black gaiters, disdained to carry their once-green cotton umbrellas, and walked to town in the conscious pride of white stockings and cleanly brushed blue-shers. Dumps beheld all this with an eye of supreme contempt. His triumph was at hand. He knew that if it had been fine for four weeks instead of four days it would rain when he went out. He was legubiously happy in the conviction that Friday would be a wretched day, and so it was. I knew how it would be," said Dumps, as he turned round opposite the mansion-house at half past eleven o'clock on the Friday morning. I knew how it would be. I am concerned, and that's enough. And certainly the appearance of the day was sufficient to depress the spirits of a much more buoyant-hearted individual than himself. It had rained without a moment's cessation since eight o'clock. Everybody that passed up cheap side and down cheap side looked wet, cold, and dirty. All sorts of forgotten and long-concealed umbrellas had been put into requisition. Cabs whisked about, with the fare as carefully boxed up behind two glazed calico curtains as any mysterious picture in any one of Mrs. Radcliffe's castles. Omnibus horses smoked like steam engines. Nobody thought of standing up under doorways or arches. They were painfully convinced it was a hopeless case, and so everybody went hastily along, jumbling and jostling and swearing and perspiring and slipping about like amateur skaters behind wooden chairs on the serpentine at a frosty Sunday. Dumps paused. He could not think of walking, being rather smart for the christening. If he took a cab he was sure to be spilt, and a hackney-coach was too expensive for his economical ideas. An Omnibus was waiting at the opposite corner. It was a desperate case. He had never heard of an Omnibus upsetting or running away, and if the cab did knock him down he could pull him up in return. Now, sir, cried the young gentleman who officiated as cab to the lads of the village, which was the name of the machine just noticed. Dumps crossed. This face, sir, shouted the driver of the hark away, pulling up his vehicle immediately across the door of the opposition. This face, sir, he's full! Dumps hesitated, whereupon the lads of the village commenced pouring out a torrent of abuse against the hark away, but the conductor of the admiral Napier settled the contest in a most satisfactory matter for all parties by seizing dumps round the waist and thrusting him into the middle of his vehicle, which had just come up and only wanted the sixteenth inside. All right, said the admiral, and off the thing thundered like a fire-engine at full gallop, with the kidnapped customer inside standing in the position of half a doubled-up boot-jack and falling about with every jerk of the machine, first on the one side, then on the other, like a jack-and-the-green on May Day, setting to the lady with a brass ladle. Well, heaven's sake, where am I to sit? inquired the miserable man of an old gentleman into whose stomach he had just fallen for the fourth time. Anywhere but on my chest, sir, replied the old gentleman at a surly tone. Perhaps the box would suit the gentleman better, suggested a very damp lawyer's clerk in a pink shirt and a smirking countenance. After a great deal of struggling and falling about, dumps at last managed to squeeze himself into a seat, which, in addition to the slight disadvantage of being between a window that would not shut and a door that must be open, placed him in close contact with a passenger who had been walking about all the morning without an umbrella and who looked as if he had spent the day in a full water-butt only wetter. Don't bang the door so, said dumps to the conductor, as he shut it after letting out four of the passengers. I'm very nervous, it destroys me. Did any gentleman say anything? replied the cad, thrusting in his head and trying to look as if he didn't understand the request. I told you not to bang the door so, repeated dumps, with an expression of countenance like the nave of clubs in convulsions. Oh, boy, it's a very singular circumstance about this here door, sir, that it won't shut without banging, replied the conductor, and he opened the door very wide and shut it again with a terrific bang in proof of the assertion.  A peg o' pardon, sir, but have you ever observed, when you have been in an omnibus on a wet day, that four people out of five always come in with large cotton umbrellas without a hand at the top or the brass spike at the bottom? Why, sir, returned dumps, as he heard the clock strike twelve. It never struck me before, but now you mention it that— Hello, hello, shout at the persecuted individual as the omnibus dashed past dreary lame, where he had directed to be set down. Where is the cad? I think he's on the box, sir, said the young gentleman before notice in the pink shirt, which looked like a white one, ruled with red ink. I want to be set down, said dumps, in a faint voice overcome by his previous efforts. I think these cads want to be set down, returned the attorney's clerk, chuckling at his sally. Hello, cried dumps again. Hello, echoed the passengers, the omnibus passed St. Giles's church. Hold hard, said the conductor. I'm blowed away. I ain't forgot the gentleman as was to be set down but dirty lame. Now, sir, make haste, if you please, he added, opening the door and assisting dumps out with as much coolness as if it was all right. Dumps' indignation was for once getting the better of his cynical equanimity. Drury lame, he gassed with the voice of a boy in a cold bath for the first time. Dirty lame, sir, yes, sir. Third turning on the right-hand side, sir. Dump's passion was paramount. He clutched his umbrella and was striding off with the firm determination of not paying the fare. The cad, by a remarkable coincidence, happened to entertain a directly contrary opinion, and heaven knows how far the altercation would have proceeded if it had not been most ably and satisfactorily brought to a close by the driver. Hello! said that respectable person, standing up on the box, and leaning with one hand on the roof of the omnibus. Hello, Tom! Tell the gentleman, if so be as he feels aggrieved, we will take him up to Edgier Road for nothing and set him down at dirty lame when he comes back. He can't reject that anyhow. The argument was irresistible. Dump's paid the disputed sixpence, and then a quarter of an hour was on the staircase of No. 14 Great Russell Street. Everything indicated that preparations were making for the reception of a few friends in the evening. Two dozen extra tumblers and four ditto wine glasses, looking anything but transparent, with little bits of straw in them in the slab in the passage just arrived. There was a great smell of nutmeg, pork wine, and almonds on the staircase. The covers were taken off the stair-carpet, and the figure of Venus on the first landing looked as if she were ashamed of the composition candle in her right hand, which contrasted beautifully with the lamp-black drapery of the goddess of love. The female servant, who looked very warm and bustling, ushered dumps into a front drawing-room, very prettily furnished, with a plentiful sprinkling of little baskets, paper table mats, china watchmen, pink and gold albums, and rainbow-bound little books on the different tables. Ah, uncle, said Mr. Kitterbell. How do you do? Allow me, Jemima, my dear. My uncle, I think you've seen Jemima before, sir. Have had the pleasure—returned big dumps, his tone and look making it doubtful whether in his life he had ever experienced the sensation. I'm sure, said Mrs. Kitterbell, with a language smile and a slight cough, I'm sure him any friend of Charles's, him much less a relation, is, I knew you'd say so, my love, said little Kitterbell, who, while he appeared to be gazing on the opposite houses, was looking at his wife with the most affectionate air. Bless you! The last two words were accompanied with a simper and a squeeze of a hand which stirred up all uncle Dump's bile. Jane, tell nurse to bring down baby, said Mrs. Kitterbell, addressing the servant. Mrs. Kitterbell was a tall, thin young lady, with very light hair, and a particularly white face, one of those young women who almost invariably, though one hardly knows why, recalled one's mind the idea of a cold filet of veal. Out went the servant, and in came the nurse, with a remarkably small parcel in her arms, picked up in a blue mantle trimmed with white fur. This was the baby. Now, uncle, said Mr. Kitterbell, lifting up that part of the mantle which covered the infant's face with an air of great triumph, who do you think he's like? He, yes, who, said Mrs. K, putting her arm through her husbands, and looking up into Dump's face with an expression of as much interest as she was capable of displaying. Good God, how small he is, cried the amiable uncle, starting back with well-famed surprise, remarkably small indeed.  He's a monster to what he was, ain't he, nurse? He's a dear, said the nurse, squeezing the child and evading the question, not because she scrupled to disguise the fact, but because she couldn't afford to throw away the chance of Dump's half-crown.  Dump's looked at the little pink heap before him, and only thought at the moment of the best mode of mortifying the youthful parents. I really don't know who he's like, he answered, very well knowing the reply expected of him. Don't you think he's like me, inquired his nephew with a knowing air? Decidedly not, returned Dump's, with an emphasis not to be misunderstood. Decidedly not like you, certainly not. Like Chimima, asked Kitterbell faintly. Oh, dear, no, not of the least. I'm no judge, of course, in such cases, but I really think he's more like one of those little carved representations that one sometimes sees blowing a trumpet on a tombstone. The nurse stooped down over the child, and with great difficulty prevented an explosion of mirth. Pa and Ma looked almost as miserable as their amiable uncle. Well, said the disappointed little father, you'll be better able to tell what he's like by and by.  Thank you, said Dump's, feeling particularly grateful. Now my love, said Kitterbell to his wife, it's time we were off. Where to meet the other godfather and the godmother at the church, uncle? Mr. and Mrs. Wilson from over the way, uncommonly nice people. My love, are you well wrapped up? Yes, dear, are you sure you won't have another shawl? inquired the anxious husband. No, sweet, returned the charming mother, accepting Dump's proffered arm. And the little party entered the hackney-coach that was to take them to the church. Dump's amusing Mrs. Kitterbell by expatiating largely on the danger of measles, thrush, teeth-cutting, and other interesting diseases to which children are subject. The ceremony, which occupied about five minutes, passed off without anything particular occurring. The clergyman had to dine some distance from town, and had two churchings, three christenings, and a funeral to perform in something less than an hour. The godfather's and godmother, therefore, promised to renounce the devil at all his works and all that sort of thing, as little Kitterbell said, in less than no time, and with the exception of Dump's nearly letting the child fall into the font when he handed it to the clergyman, the whole affair went off in the usual business-like and matter-of-course matter, and Dump's re-entered the bank gates at two o'clock with a heavy heart and the painful conviction that he was regularly booked for an evening party. Evening came, and so did Dump's pumps, black silk stockings, and white cravat, which he had ordered to be forwarded per boy from Pentonville. The depressed godfather dressed himself at a friend's counting-house from Went's with his spirit's fifty degrees below proof he sallied forth as the weather had cleared up and the evening was totterably fine to walk Great Russell Street. Slowly he paced up Cheapside Newgate Street down Snow Hill and up Holburn Ditto, looking as grim as the figurehead of a man of war and finding out fresh causes of misery at every step. As he was crossing the corner of Hatten Garden a man apparently intoxicated rushed against him and would have knocked him down had he not been providentially caught by a very gentile young man who happened to be close to him at the time. The shock so disarranged Dump's nerves as well as his dress that he could hardly stand. The gentleman took his arm and in the kindest manner walked with him as far as Fernival's Inn. Dump's, for about the first time in his life, felt grateful and polite, and he and the gentlemanly-looking young man parted with mutual expressions of goodwill. There are at least some well-disposed men in the world ruminated the misanthropical Dump's as he proceeded towards his destination. Rat-tat-ta-ra-ra-ra-rat knocked a hackney coachman at Kitterbell's door in imitation of a gentleman's servant just as Dump's reached it and out came an old lady in a large tuke and an old gentleman in a blue coat and three female copies of the old lady in pink dresses and shoes to match. It's a large party, sighed the unhappy godfather wiping the perspiration from his forehead and leaning against the area railings. It was some time before the miserable man could muster up courage to knock at the door, and what he did, the smart appearance of a neighbouring greengrocer who had been hired to wait for seven and sixpence, and whose calves alone were worth double the money, a lamp in the passage and the Venus in the landing added to the hum of many voices, and the sound of a harp and two violins painfully convinced him that his surmises were all but too well founded. How are you, said little Kitterbell, in greater bustle than ever, bolting out with the little back-parter with a corkscrew in his hand, and various particles of sawdust looking like so many inverted commas on his inexpressibles. Good God! said Dumps, turning into the aforesaid parlor to put his shoes on, which he had brought in his coat pocket and still more appalled by the sight of seven fresh-drawn quirks and a corresponding number of decanters. How many people are there upstairs? Oh, not above thirty-five. We've had the carpet taken up in the back drawing-room and the piano and the card-tables are in the front. Jemima thought we'd better have a regular sit-down supper in the front parlor because of the speechifying and all that. But Lord Uncle, what's the matter? continued the excited little man, as Dumps stood with one shoe on, rummaging his pockets with a most frightful distortion of visage. What, have you lost your pocket-book? No, returned Dumps, diving first into one pocket and then into the other, and speaking in a voice like Desdemona with the pillow over her mouth. Your card-case, snuff-box, the key of your lodgings, continued Kitterbill, pouring question on question with the rapidity of lightning. No, no, ejaculated Dumps, still diving eagling into his empty pockets. Not the mug you spoke of this morning? Yes, the mug, replied Dumps, sinking into a chair. How could you have done it, inquired Kitterbill? Are you sure you brought it out? Yes, yes, I see it all, said Dumps, starting up as the idea flashed across his mind. Miserable dog that I am, I was born to suffer. I see it all. It was the gentlemanly-looking young man. Mr. Dumps shouted the greengrocer in a stentorian voice, as he ushered the somewhat recovered godfather into the drawing-room half an hour after the above declaration. Mr. Dumps! Everybody looked at the door, and in came Dumps, feeling about as much out of place as a salmon might be supposed to be on a gravel-walk. Happy to see you again, said Mrs. Kitterbill, quite unconscious of the unfortunate man's confusion and misery, you must allow me to introduce you to a few of our friends—my mama, Mr. Dumps, my papa and sisters. Dumps seized the hand of the mother as warmly as if she was his own parent, bowed to the young ladies and against a gentleman behind him, and took no notice whatever of the father, who had been bowing incessantly for three minutes at a quarter. Uncle, said little Kitterbill, after Dumps had been introduced to a select dozen or two, you must let me lead you to the other end of the room to introduce you to my friend Danton, such a splendid fellow, I'm sure you'll like him, this way, Dumps followed as tractably as a tame bear. Mr. Danton was a young man of about five and twenty, with a considerable stock of impudence and a very small share of ideas. He was a great favorite, especially with young ladies of from sixteen to twenty-six years of age, both inclusive. He could imitate the French horn to admiration, sang comic songs most inevitably, and had the most insinuating way of saying in pertinent nothings to his doting female admirers. He had acquired, some or other, the reputation of being a great wit, and accordingly, whenever he opened his mouth, everybody who knew him laughed very heartily. The introduction took place in due form. Mr. Danton bowed and twirled a ladies' handkerchief, which he held in his hand, in a most common way. Everybody smiled. Very warm, said Dumps, feeling it necessary to say something. Yes, it was warmer yesterday, returned the brilliant Mr. Danton, a general laugh. I have great pleasure in congratulating you on your first appearance and the character of a father, sir, he continued addressing Dumps. Godfather, I mean! The young ladies were convulsed, and the gentlemen in ecstasies. A general hum of admiration interrupted the conversation, and announced the entrance of nurse with the baby. A universal rush of the young ladies immediately took place. Girls are always so fond of babies and company. Oh, you dear, said one, how sweet cried another in a low tone of the most enthusiastic admiration. Heavenly, added a third. Oh, what dear little arms, said a fourth, holding up an arm and fist about the size and shape of the leg of a foul cleanly picked. Did you ever, said a little caquette with a large bustle, who looked like a French lithograph appealing to a gentleman in three waistcoats, did you ever? Never in my life returned her admirer, pulling up his collar. Oh, do let me take it, nurse, cried another young lady. The love! Can it open its eyes, nurse? Inquired another, affecting the utmost innocence. Suffice it to say that the single ladies unanimously voted him an angel, and that the married ones, Nemcon, agreed that he was decidedly the finest baby they had ever beheld except their own. The quadrils were resumed with great spirit. Mr. Danton was universally admitted to be beyond himself. Several young ladies enchanted the company and gained admirers by singing, We met, I saw her at the fancy fair, and other equally sentimental and interesting balance. The young men, as Mrs. Kitterbull said, made themselves very agreeable. The girls did not lose their opportunity, and the evening promised to go off excellently. Dumpse didn't mind it. He had devised a plan for himself, a little bit of fun in his own way, and he was almost happy. He played a rubber and lost every point Mr. Danton said he could not have lost every point because he made a point of losing. Everybody laughed tremendously. Dumpse retorted with a better joke, and nobody smiled, with the exception of the host, who seemed to consider it his duty to laugh till he was black in the face at everything. There was only one drawback. The musicians did not play with quite as much spirit as could have been wished. The cause, however, was satisfactorily explained, for it appeared on the testimony of a gentleman who had come up from Gravesend in the afternoon that they had been engaged on board a steamer all day, and had played almost without cessation all the way to Gravesend and all the way back again. The sit-down supper was excellent. There were four barley-sugar temples at the table, which would have looked beautiful had they not melted away when the supper began, and a water-mill whose only fault was that instead of going round it ran over the table-cloth. Then there were fowls and tongue and trifle and sweets and lobster salad and potted beef and everything, and Little Kitterbell kept calling out for clean plates, and the clean plates did not come, and then the gentleman who wanted the plates said they didn't mind they'd take a ladies. And then Mrs. Kitterbell applauded their gallantry, and the green grocer ran about till he thought his seven and six pence was very hardly earned, and the young ladies didn't eat much for fear it shouldn't look romantic, and the married ladies eat as much as possible for fear they shouldn't have enough, and a great deal of wine was drunk, and everybody talked and laughed considerably. Hush, hush, said Mr. Kitterbell, rising and looking important. My love, this was addressed to his wife at the other end of the table, take care of Mrs. Maxwell and your mama and the rest of the married ladies, the gentlemen will persuade the young ladies to fill their glasses, I am sure. Ladies and gentlemen, said long dumps in a very sepulcher voice and rueful accent, rising from his chair like the ghost in Don Juan, will you have the kindness to charge your glasses I am desirous of proposing a toast? A dead silence ensued, and the glasses were filled. Everybody looked serious. Ladies and gentlemen, slowly continued the ominous dumps. I, here, Mr. Danton, imitated two notes from the French horn in a very loud key which electrified the nervous toast-proposer and converged his audience. Order, order, said little Kitterbell, endeavouring to suppress his laughter. Order, said the gentlemen. Danton be quiet, said a particular friend on the opposite end of the table. Ladies and gentlemen, resumed dumps, somewhat recovered and not much disconcerted, for he was always a pretty good hand at a speech. In accordance with what is, I believe, the established usage on these occasions, I, as one of the godfathers of master Frederick Charles William Kitterbell, here the speaker's voice faltered for he remembered the mug, venture to rise to propose a toast. I indeed hardly say that it is the health and prosperity of that young gentleman, the particular event of whose early life we are here met to celebrate, applause. Ladies and gentlemen, it is impossible to suppose that our friends here, whose sincere well-wishers we all are, can pass through life without some trials, considerable suffering, severe affliction, and heavy losses. Here the arch-traitor paused, and slowly drew forth a long white pocket-hankerchief. His example was followed by several ladies. That these trials may be long spared them is my most earnest prayer, my most fervent wish, a distinct sob from the grandmother. I hope and trust, ladies and gentlemen, that the infant whose chrysaline we have this evening met to celebrate may not be removed from the arms of his parents by premature decay, several cambricks were in requisition. That his young and now, apparently, healthy form, may not be wasted by lingering disease. Here dumbs cast a sardonic glance around, for a great sensation was manifest among the married ladies. You I am sure will concur with me in wishing that he may live to be a comfort and blessing to his parents, here, here, and an horrible sob from Mr. Kitterbell. But should he not be what we could wish? Should he forget, in aftertimes, the duty which he owes to them? Should they unhappily experience that distracting truth? How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child! Here, Mrs. Kitterbell, with her handkerchief to her eyes, and accompanied by several ladies, rushed from the room, and went into violent hysterics in the passage, leaving her better half in almost as bad a condition, and a general impression in dumps' favor for people like sentiment after all. It need hardly be added that this occurrence quite put a stop to the harmony of the evening. Vinegar, heart-shorne, and cold water were now as much in request as negus, rout-cakes, and bonbons had been a short time before. Mrs. Kitterbell was immediately conveyed to her apartment. The musicians were silent, flirting ceased, and the company slowly departed. Dumps left the house at the commencement of the bustle, and walked home with a light step, and, for him, a tearful heart. His landlady, who slept in the next room, has offered to make oath that she heard him laugh in his peculiar manner after he had locked his door. The assertion, however, is so improbable, and bears on the face of its such strong evidence of untruth that it has never obtained credence to this hour. The family of Mr. Kitterbell has considerably increased since the period to which we have referred. He now has two sons and a daughter, and as he expects at no distant period to have another addition to his blooming progeny, he is anxious to secure an eligible godfather for the occasion. He is determined, however, to impose upon him two conditions. He must bind himself by a solemn obligation not to make any speech after supper, and it is indispensable that he should be in no way connected with the most miserable man in the world. END OF SECTION XVII We will be bold to say that there is scarcely a man in the constant habit of walking, day after day, through any of the crowded thoroughfares of London, who cannot recollect among the people whom he knows by sight to use a familiar phrase, some being of abject and wretched appearance, with whom he remembers to have seen in a very different condition, whom he has observed sinking lower and lower by almost imperceptible degrees, and the shabbiness and utter destitution of whose appearance at last strike forcibly and painfully upon him as he passes by. Is there any man who has mixed much with society, or whose avocations have caused him to mingle at one time or other with a great number of people who cannot call to mind the time when some shabby, miserable wretch in rags and filth who shuffles past him now in all the squalor of disease and poverty, with a respectable tradesman or clerk, or a man following some thriving pursuit with good prospects and decent means, or cannot any of our readers call to mind from among the list of their quantum acquaintance some fallen or degraded man who lingers about the pavement in hungry misery, from whom everyone turns coldly away, and who preserves himself from sheer starvation nobody knows how. Alas, such cases are of too frequent occurrence to be rare items in any man's experience, and but too often arise from one cause drunkenness, that fierce rage for the slow, sure poison that oversteps every other consideration that casts aside wife, children, friends, happiness, and station, and hurries its victims madly on to degradation and death. Some of these men have been impelled by misfortune and misery to the vice that has degraded them. The ruin of worldly expectations, the death of those they loved, the sorrow that slowly consumes but will not break the heart, has driven them wild, and they present the hideous spectacle of madmen slowly dying by their own hands. But so far the greater part have willfully and with open eyes plunged into the gulf from which the man who once enters it never rises more, but into which he sinks deeper and deeper down until recovery is hopeless. Such a man as this once stood by the bedside of his dying wife, while his children knelt round, and mingled loud bursts of grief with their innocent prayers. The room was scantily and meanly furnished, and it needed but a glance at the pale form from which the light of life was fast passing away to know that grief and want and anxious care had been busy at the heart for many a weary year. An elderly woman, with her face bathed in tears, was supporting the head of the dying woman, her daughter, on her arm. But it was not towards her that the face was turned. It was not her hand that the cold and trembling fingers clasped. They pressed the husband's arm. The eye so soon to be closed in death rested on his face, and the man shook beneath their gaze. His dress was slovenly and disordered. His face inflamed. His eyes bloodshot and heavy. He had been summoned from some wild debauch to the bed of sorrow and death. A shaded lamp by the bedside cast a dim light on the figures around and left the remainder of the room in thick deep shadow. The silence of night prevailed without the house, and the stillness of death was in the chamber. A watch hung over the mantle-shelf. Its low ticking was the only sound that broke the profound quiet, but it was a solemn one, for well they knew who heard it, that before it had recorded the passing of another hour it would beat the knell of a departed spirit. It is a dreadful thing to wait and watch for the approach of death, to know that hope is gone and recovery impossible, and to sit and count the dreary hours through long, long nights. Such nights as only watchers by the bed of sickness know. It chills the blood to hear the dearest secrets of the heart. The pent-up, hidden secrets of many years, poured forth by the unconscious, helpless being before you. And to think how little the reserved conning of a whole life will avail, when fever and delirium tear off the mask at last. Strange tales have been told in the wanderings of dying men.  And many a wretch has died alone, raving of deeds the very name of which has driven the boldest man away. But no such ravings were to be heard at the bedside by which the children knelt. Their half-stifled sobs and moaning alone broke the silence of the lonely chamber. And when at last the mother's grasp relaxed and turning one look from the children to the father, she vainly strove to speak and fell backward on the pillow, all was so calm and tranquil that she seemed to sink to sleep. They lent over her. They called upon her name, softly at first, and then in the loud and piercing tones of desperation. But there was no reply. They listened for her breath, but no sound came. They felt for the palpitation of the heart, but no faint throb responded to the touch. That heart was broken, and she was dead. The husband sank into a chair by the bedside and clashed his hands upon his burning forehead. He gazed from child to child, but when a weeping eye met his, he quailed beneath its look. No word of comfort was whispering in his ear. No look of kindness lighted on his face. All shrunk from and avoided him. And when at last he staggered from the room, no one sought to follow or console the widower. The time had been when many a friend would have crowded round him in his affliction, and many a heartfelt condolence would have met him in his grief. Where were they now? One by one, friends, relations, the commonest acquaintance ever had fallen off from and deserted the drunkard. His wife alone had clung to him in good and evil, in sickness and poverty, and how had he rewarded her? He had reeled from the tavern to her bedside in time to see her die. He rushed from the house and walked swiftly through the streets. Remorse, fear, shame, all crowded on his mind. Stupified with drink and bewildered with the scene he had just witnessed, he re-entered the tavern he had quitted shortly before. Glass succeeded glass. His blood mounted at his brain world round. Death.  She was too good for him. Her relations had often told him so. Curses on them. Had they not deserted her and left her to wind away the time at home? Well, she was dead, and happy perhaps. It was better as it was. Another glass. One more. Hurrah! It was a merry life while it lasted, and he would make the most of it. Time went on. The three children who were left to him grew up and were children no longer. The father remained the same, poorer, shabbier, and more dissilent-looking, but the same confirmed an irreclamable drunkard. The boys had long ago run wild in the streets and left him. The girl alone remained, but she worked hard and words or blows could always procure him something for the tavern. So he went on in the old course and a merry life he led. One night, as early as ten o'clock, for the girl had been sick for many days, and there was consequently little to spend at the public house. He bent his steps homeward, bethinking himself that if he would have her able to earn money it would be as well to apply to the parish surgeon, or at all events, to take the trouble of inquiring what ailed her, which he had not yet thought it worth while to do. It was a wet December night. The wind blew piercing cold, and the rain poured heavily down. He begged for a few havens from a passer-by, and having bought a small loaf, for it was his interest to keep the girl alive if he could, he shuffled onwards as fast as the wind and rain would let him. At the back of Fleet Street, and lying between it and the waterside, are several mean and narrow courts, which form a portion of whitefriars. It was to one of these that he directed his steps. The alley into which he turned might for filth and misery have competed with the darkest corner of this ancient sanctuary in its dirtiest and most lawless time. The houses, varying from two stories in height to four, were stained with every indescribable hue that long exposure to the weather, damp and rottenness, can impart to tenements composed originally of the roughest and coarsest materials. The windows were patched with paper, and stuffed with the foulest rags. The doors were falling from their hinges, poles with lines on which to dry clothes projected from every casement, and sounds of quarreling and drunkenness issued from every room. The solitary oil-lamp in the centre of the court had been blown out, either by the violence of the wind or the act of some inhabitant who had excellent reasons for objecting to his residence being rendered too conspicuous, and the only light which fell upon the broken and uneven pavement was derived from the miserable candles that here and there twinkled in the rooms of such of the most fortunate residents as could afford to indulge in so expensive a luxury. A gutter ran down the centre of the alley, all the sluggish odours of which had been called forth by the rain, and as the wind whistled through the old houses, the doors and shutters creaked upon their hinges, and the windows shook in their frames, with a violence which every moment seemed to threaten the destruction of the whole place. The man whom we had followed into this den walked on in the darkness, sometimes stumbling into the main gutter and at others into some branch repositories of garbage which had been formed by the rain until he reached the last house in the court. The door, or rather what was left of it, stood a jar for the convenience of the numerous lodgers, and he proceeded to grope his way up the old and broken stair to the attic-story. He was within a step or two of his room-door when it opened, and a girl whose miserable and emaciated appearance was only to be equal by that of the candle which she shaded with her hand peeped anxiously out. "'Is that you, Father?' said the girl. "'Who else should it be?' replied the man gruffly. "'What are you trembling at? It's little enough that I have had to drink to-day, for there's no drink without money and no money without work. What the devil's the matter with the girl?' "'I am not well, Father. Not at all well,' said the girl, bursting into tears. Ah!' replied the man, and the tone of a person was compelled to admit an unpleasant fact to which he would rather remain blind if he could. You must get better somehow, for we must have money.  They're paid for it, dammit. Why don't you stand up before the door, sir? Let me come in, can't you?' "'Father,' whispered the girl, shutting the door behind her and placing herself before it, "'William has come back.' "'Who?' said the man with a start. "'Hush,' replied the girl. "'William, brother William.' "'And what does he want?' said the man, with an effort at composure. "'Money, meat, drink. He's come to the wrong shop for that if he does. Give me the candle, give me the candle-fool. I ain't got to hurt him.' He snatched the candle from her hand and walked into the room, sitting on an old box with his head resting on his hand, and his eyes fixed on a wretched cinder-fire that was smoldering on the hearth was a young man of about two and twenty miserably clad in an old coarse-jacket and trousers. He started up when his father entered. "'Fasten the door, Mary,' said the young man hastily, "'fasten the door.' "'You look as if you don't know me, father. It's long enough since you drove me from home. You may well forget me.' "'And what do you want here now?' said the father, seating himself on a stool on the other side of the fireplace. "'What do you want here now?' "'Shelter,' replied the son. "'I'm in trouble. That's enough. If I'm caught, I shall swing. That's certain. Caught, I shall be unless I stop here. That's as certain. And there's an end of it.' "'You mean to say you've been robbing or murdering, then?' said the father. "'Yes, I do,' replied the son. "'Does it surprise you, father?' He looked steadily at the man's face, but he withdrew his eyes and bent them on the ground. "'Where's your brother's?' he said, after a long pause. "'Where they'll never trouble you,' replied his son. "'John's gone to America. And Henry's dead.' "'Dead,' said the father, with a shudder, which even he could not express. "'Dead,' replied the young man. He died in my arms. Shot like a dog, by a game-keeper. He staggered back.  It poured out from his side, like water. He was weak and it blinded him. But he threw himself down at his knees on the grass and prayed to God that if his mother was in heaven he would hear her prayers for a parten for her youngest son. "'I was her favourite boy, Will,' he said. "'And I'm glad to think now that when she was dying, though I was a very young child then, and my little heart was almost bursting. I knelt down at the foot of the bed and thanked God for having made me so fond of her as to have never once done anything to bring the tears into her eyes. Oh, Will, why was she taken away and father left?' "'There's his dying words, father,' said the young man. "'Make the best you can of him.  And here's the end of it.' The girl wept aloud, and the father, sinking his head upon his knees, rocked himself to and fro. "'If I am taken,' said the young man, "'I shall be carried back into the country and hung for that man's murder. It cannot trace me here without your assistance, father. For ought I know you may give me up to justice, but unless you do, here I stop until I can venture to escape abroad.' For two whole days all three remained in the wretched room without stirring out. On the third evening, however, the girl was worse than she had been yet, and the few scraps of food they had were gone. It was indispensably necessary that someone should go out. And as the girl was too weak and ill, the father went just at nightfall. He got some medicine for the girl and a trifle in the way of pecuniary assistance. On his way back he earned sixpence by holding a horse, and he turned homewards with enough money to supply their most pressing ones for two or three days to come. He had to pass the public-house. He lingered for an instant, walked past it, turned back again, lingered once more, and finally slunk in. Two men whom he had not observed were on the watch. They were on the point of giving up their search into spare when his loitering attracted their attention, and when he entered the public-house they followed him. "'You'll drink with me, master,' said one of them, proffering him a glass of liquor. "'And me, too,' said the other, replenishing the glass as soon as it was drained of its contents. The man thought of his hungry children and his son's danger, but they were nothing to the drunkard. He did drink. And his reason left him. "'A wet night,' warden, whispered one of the men in his ear, as he at length turned to go away. After spending in liquor one half the money on which perhaps his daughter's life depended. "'The right sort of night for our friends in hiding,' master warden,' replied the other. "'Sit down here,' said the one who had spoken first, drawing him into a corner. "'We have been looking out to the young one. We came to tell him. It's all right now. But we couldn't find him, because we hadn't got the precise direction. But that ain't strange, for I don't think he'd noted himself when he came to London, really. No, he didn't,' replied the father. The two men exchanged glances. "'There's a vessel down at the docks. To sail at midnight, with its high water,' resumed the first speaker. And we'll put him on board. His passage is taken in another name. And what's better than that? It's paid for. It's lucky we met you.' "'Very,' said the second. "'Capital Luck,' said the first, with a wink to his companion. "'Right,' replied the second, with a slight nod of intelligence. "'Another glass here. Quick,' said the first speaker. "'And in another five minutes more the father had unconsciously yielded up his own son into the hangman's hands. Slowly and heavily the time dragged along, as the brother and sister in their miserable hiding-place listened in anxious suspense to the slightest sound. At length a heavy footstep was heard upon the stair. It approached nearer. It reached the landing. And the father staggered into the room. The girl saw that he was intoxicated and advanced with the candle in her hand to meet him. She stopped short, gave a loud scream, and fell senseless on the ground. She had caught sight of the shadow of a man reflected on the floor. They both rushed in, and in another instant the young man was a prisoner and handcuffed. "'Very quietly done,' said one of the men to his companion, thanks to the old man. "'Lift up the girl, Tom. Come, come. It's no use crying, young woman. It's all over now and can't be helped.' The young man stooped for an instant over the girl, and then turned fiercely round upon his father, who had reeled against the wall and was gazing on the group with drunken stupidity. "'Listen to me, father,' he said, in a tone that made the drunkard's flesh creep. "'My brother's blood, and mine, is on your head. I never had kind look, or word, or care from you. And alive or dead I will never forgive you. Die when you will, or how I will be with you. I speak as a dead man now, and I warn you, father, that as surely as you must one day stand before your maker, so surely shall your children be there, hand in hand, to cry for judgment against you.' He raised his manacled hands in a threatening attitude, fixed his eyes on his shrinking parent, and slowly left the room, and neither father nor sister ever beheld him more on this side of the grave. When the dim and misty light of a winter's morning penetrated into the narrow court, and struggled through the begrimed window of the wretched room, warded a wook from his heavy sleep and found himself alone. He rose and looked round him. The old flock mattress on the floor was undisturbed, and everything was just as he remembered to have seen it last. And there were no signs of anyone save himself having occupied the room during the night. He inquired of the other lodgers and the neighbors, but his daughter had not been seen or heard of. He rambled through the streets and scrutinized every wretched face among the crowds that throng them with anxious eyes. But his search was fruitless, and he returned to his garret when night came on, desolate and weary. For many days he occupied himself in the same manner, but no trace of his daughter did he meet with, and no word of her reached his ears. At length he gave up the pursuit as hopeless. He had long thought of the probability of her leaving him, and endeavouring to gain her bread in quiet elsewhere. She had left him at last to starve alone. He ground his teeth and cursed her. He begged his bread from door to door. Every apity he could ring from the pity or credulity of those to whom he addressed himself was spent in the old way. A year passed over his head. The roof of a jail was the only one that had sheltered him for many months. He slept under archways and in brick-fields, anywhere where there was some warmth or shelter from the cold and rain. But in the last stage of poverty, disease, and houseless want he was adrunkered still. At last one bitter night he sunk down on a doorstep, faint and ill. The premature decay of vice and profligacy had worn him to the bone. His cheeks were hollow and livid. His eyes were sunken and their sight was dim. His legs trembled beneath his weight, and now the long-forgotten scenes of a misspent life crowded thick and fast upon him. He thought of the time when he had a home. A happy, cheerful home. And of those who peopled it and flocked about him then, until the forms of his elder children seemed to rise from the grave and stand about him. So plain, so clear, and so distinct they were that he could touch and feel them. Looks that he had long forgotten were fixed upon him once more. Voice's long sense hushed in death sounded in his ears like the music of village bells. But it was only for an instant. The rain beat heavily upon him, and cold and hunger were gnawing at his heart again. He rose, and dragged his feeble limbs a few paces further. The street was silent and empty. The few passengers who passed by at that late hour hurried quickly on, and his tremulous voice was lost in the violence of the storm. Again that heavy chill struck through his frame, and his blood seemed to stagnate beneath He coiled himself up in a projecting doorway and tried to sleep. But sleep had fled from his dull and glazed eyes. His mind wandered strangely, but he was awake and conscious. The well-known shout of drunken mirth sounded in his ear. The glass was at his lips. The board was covered with choice-rich food. They were before him. He could see them all. He had but to reach out his hand and take them. And though the illusion was reality itself, he knew that he was sitting alone in the deserted street, watching the raindrops as they pattered on the stones, that death was coming upon him by inches, and that there was none to care for or help him. Suddenly he started up in the extremity of terror. He had heard his own voice shouting in the night air. He knew not what or why. Hark! A groan! Another! His senses were leaving him, half formed at incoherent words burst from his lips, and his hand sought to tear and lacerate his flesh. He was going mad. And he streaked for help till his voice failed him. He raised his head and looked up the long, dismal street. He recollected that outcast like himself, condemned to wander day and night in those dreadful streets, had sometimes gone distracted with their own loneliness. He remembered to have heard many years before that a homeless wretch had once been found in a solitary corner sharpening a rusty knife to plunge into his own heart, preferring death to that endless weary wandering to and fro. In an instant his resolve was taken. His limbs received new life. He ran quickly from the spot, and paused not for breath until he reached the riverside. He crept softly down the steep stone stairs that led from the commencement of Waterloo Bridge down to the water's level. He crouched into a corner, and held his breath as the patrol passed. Never did prisoner's heart throb with the hope of liberty and life half so eagerly as did that of the wretched man at the prospect of death. The watch passed close to him, but he remained unobserved, and after waiting till the sound of footsteps had died away in the distance, he cautiously descended and stood beneath the gloomy arch that forms the landing-place from the river. The tide was in, and the water flowed at his feet. The rain had ceased, the wind was lulled, and all was for the moment still and quiet, so quiet that the slightest sound on the opposite bank, even the rippling of the water against the barges that were moored there, was distinctly audible to his ear. The stream stole languidly and sluggishly on. Strange and fantastic forms rose to the surface, and beckoned him to approach. Dark gleaming eyes peered from the water, and seemed to mock his hesitation, while hollow murmurs from behind urged him onwards. He retreated a few paces, took a short run, desperate leap, and plunged into the river. Not five seconds had passed when he rose to the water's surface, but what a change had taken place of that short time in all his thoughts and feelings. Life, life in any form, poverty, misery, starvation, anything but death. He fought and struggled with the water that closed over his head, and screamed in agonies of terror.  The shore, but one foot of dry ground, he could almost touch the step. One hand's breadth nearer, and he was saved. But the tide bore him onward, under the dark arches of the bridge, and he sank to the bottom. Again he rose and struggled for life, for one instant, for one brief instant, the buildings on the river's banks, the lights on the bridge through which the current had borne him, the black water and the fast-flying clouds were distinctly visible. Once more he sank and once again he rose. Bright flames of fire shot up from earth to heaven and reeled before his eyes while the water thundered in his ears and stunned him with its furious roar. A week afterwards the body was washed ashore, some miles down the river, a swollen and disfigured mass, unrecognized and unpitted, it was borne to the grave, and there it his long sense moldered away.


I hope and pray that my colleagues will find the courage to join me in opposing this misguided and this dangerous bill. I yield back. So, despite coming out to my aunt this past February, I guess she's still just as much as a homophobe. Let's be clear, Obergefell is not in danger, but people and institutions of faith are. Aunt Vicki, that's not right. Institutions of faith like religious universities are not being silenced. They're being empowered by the U.S. government to discriminate against tens of thousands of LGBTQ students because of religious exemptions, but they still receive federal funding. The bill's implications submit to our ideology or be silenced. It's more like you want the power to force your religious beliefs on to everyone else. And because you don't have that power, you feel like you're being silenced. But you're not.  And I'm sure it's not that hard. You just listened to Andrew Hartzler, the nephew of homophobic Republican lawmaker Vicki Hartzler, who, as you all remember, cried on the house floor last week while urging her colleagues to reject a same-sex marriage bill. And everything that Andrew said to rebut his homophobic auntie's point was spot-on. Now, it took a lot of courage for him to make that tick-tock because this is not some distant relative who he never sees. He explains that he was very close with his auntie, and you can tell that even though he came out to her, she's still deeply, deeply hateful. And unfortunately for Andrew, a lot of his other family members, including his parents, shares the same homophobic views. So he explained in an as-told essay published in Insider why he chose to finally call her out.  So the article is titled, I Called Out My Aunt Representative Vicki Hartzler after she made a homophobic speech in tears. Since surviving conversion therapy, I want people to know they don't have to accept the hateful rhetoric of those in power. And he explains, from a young age, I've heard, read, and seen what my aunt, GOP representative Vicki Hartzler, has done to target my community, but I always felt like there was a boundary I should respect. I had grown up very close to my aunt, and after all, she was family. During my second year of college, however, my perspective changed when I came across a HuffPost article that revealed my aunt hosted a conversion therapy group at the US Capitol in 2019. When I looked at a photo from the event, I was surprised. A conversion therapist that I used to see in high school after I came out to my parents was there. This is a person I would attribute a lot of my trauma to. I then realized that I couldn't ignore or justify the real-world consequences of her actions. When I saw the video on Thursday of my aunt crying on the house floor, as she encouraged colleagues to vote against the Respect for Marriage Act, which will help protect same-sex marriage in the name of religious freedom, I was frightened. I decided to pick up my phone and respond. And that's when he made the TikTok that we just watched. Now, there's another TikTok that he made that I think is great, that we're going to play at the end of this video. But he explains more of his story, and it's genuinely so heartbreaking. So not only did he go to conversion therapy at a very young age after coming out to his parents, but he was then forced to suppress his true self.  He was sent away to a religious college where he was subjected to even more abuse. So it's like gut punch after gut punch after gut punch. And I have homophobic family members, but none of them are as powerful as Vicki Hartzler, thankfully. So to see him come out at the end of this in a much more positive position is really encouraging. And this story has a happy ending because he is taking action to take on the people who abused him. So he continues here, When it was time to pick a university to attend in 2017, my parents, in an attempt to protect me in a safe little bubble of Christian-abiding people, sent me to Oral Roberts University. At this religious institution named after the famed televangelist, being gay was against the honor code. At the beginning of college, I decided that because I was in this all Christian environment, I would give it one last chance to change and be straight and get my parents to accept me. That attempt lasted a semester. As a sophomore in college, I came out to my parents for the second time, which they initially took really hard. They've come a long way since then. They may get there one day or never be there, but I can't live my life hoping they will.  And it was very harmful to be in an environment where I felt like I had to conform to the university standards. When I was a junior in high school, I was called into the dean's office for homosexual activity. After it was discovered, I had a boyfriend who attended a different school. I was subjected to conversion therapy type accountability meetings, as they called it, as a result. These meetings consisted of lectures about holy sex and what constituted a godly relationship. So let's just try to put this into context here. He comes out of the closet, is subjected to conversion therapy, which is abused by his parents. Then he comes out a second time. And because he's at this college, once again, subjected to more abuse in the form of accountability meetings, which is conversion therapy light seemingly based on how he describes it. I mean, look, if I were him, I would absolutely disown my parents. I would never speak to them again, but it seems like he's a less bitter person than I am. But that's just his parents should be begging him for forgiveness after all that they put him through. And he says that they've come a long way, but they're still not where they should be. So I mean, it's astonishing to me that they're so hateful.  And they still won't fully embrace him as if he's the one with the problem and not them. Unbelievable. Unbelievable.  And not only is he calling out his aunts on TikTok and exposing her, but he's part of a class action lawsuit to take on these universities that's taxpayer funded by the way that openly discriminate against students on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity. Now the class action lawsuit that he's a part of was spearheaded by the religious exemption accountability project. So this is him fighting back after the school abused him. And yes, that's what they did. Abusive. They were trying to convince him that who he was was unholy, was was bad, was disgusting. And that's not okay. I'm sorry. But if you're going to take taxpayer money, you shouldn't be allowed to discriminate. I mean, let's be clear. You shouldn't be allowed to discriminate period. You should be shut down entirely if you discriminate, but to take taxpayer dollars and do things like that, not acceptable at all. So I'm glad that he's part of this litigation. But let's get to the last TikTok that we're going to play from him, where he further exposed us as auntie. He's ready for a little history lesson. So the year is 2003, and Massachusetts has just become the first state to allow same sex marriage. So what does my aunt Vicky do? She championed an amendment to the Missouri Constitution, which specifically banned same sex marriage. How do you think that makes people, young people like me who are dead feel about themselves? That was Alex, who confronted my aunt after a town hall meeting in June of 2011. Now listen to my aunt Vicky's response. When this video was posted to YouTube when I was just barely 13, it literally changed everything for me. Because for the first time, someone had stood up to my hand. And ultimately, that's why I did what I did. So thank you, Alex. Good on you, brother. Look, self-love is a very powerful thing. And you can tell that he feels confident and he is now comfortable in his own skin, which is very hard to accomplish after it's been just drilled into your head that you should hate yourself. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. It's so hard to overcome that. A lot of people don't overcome that. But Andrew did, and he should really be proud of himself because what he has managed to accomplish, where he's at right now, getting there is no small feat. And again, I speak from experience with homophobic family members as well.  So Andrew has been through hell and he's doing really good, and he's fighting to make the world a better place. So I think that he should be proud of himself and I commend people like him because people like him are making the world a better place. They're trying to fight for a better future for LGBTQ plus people, so they don't be subjected to the same abuse that our generation was subjected to. So keep on fighting, Andrew, and we're right there with you.


Welcome all, here I have Daniel and Surya with me on how to improve your diet and save money with Patan. Give them some applause. Hi everyone. My name is Surya, here's Daniel. We are both students from the University of Alicante and we are both chemical engineering students. So we're not programmers. So if you see something in a code, feel free to send a pull request to JITAB. That's another thing. You can find word documentation and notebooks in JITAB, which I will post in Twitter later. Something about us. We are both active members of Kachema, which is a non-profit organisation by a university. And, well, something maybe about your personalities. He is in love with interactive widgets and he loves them. I actually don't like them so much. And, well, we are programmer science 2014, so we are beginners in this. And something about the talk. We are chemical engineers and we love reactors and distillation columns. But I don't think you are much chemical engineers, so maybe this will not be interesting for you. So we were thinking what is everything everyone of us eats. And, well, everyone of us wants to eat the most but pay the minimum of money. So, but all of us have the objective now it's summer, so we want to fit and be healthy. So we are going to show you how you can optimise your food with the minimum cost, but having the nutritional concerns that you want to have. And, well, now I'm going to let you, Daniel, who is going to tell you something more about the theory of this optimisation problem. Thank you. There are no interactive widgets here, so don't be afraid. Optimisation deals with finding a minimum or a maximum or zero of a given function. And we are going to see some concepts using the diet problem. This problem was announced in the early 40s when the US Army wanted to minimise the cost of food and give their shoulders a balanced diet. To understand this is better, I give you an example. Imagine we move the diet problem to the present time. At this date, it is common to go to a fast food establishment to eat and we want a cheaper meat and, of course, we want a healthy meal. So this is our problem. When you go to this establishment, you can choose some products like fries, like hamburgers, and these are all variable, naming as eggs in our mathematical problem. Each product has a price and the total price is the multiplication of all coefficients by this variable and the deletion of all of them is our final cost. What we want to do is minimise this cost subject to our constraints and nutritional constraints. So this is our mathematical problem and we are going to optimise this using Python. But first, we have to see some concepts of optimisation. I was my professor from the very beginning and I'm going to show you in 10 minutes. So first, what is a linear function and a non-linear function? You can see here, this is a linear function, it's aligned, yes. And, well, this is a non-linear function. You see, it's not a lane. Okay, thank you. You can perform this in three dimensions. This is a plane and a non-linear function looks like this in three dimensions. Well, a smooth version known as smooth. If you have something like this, this is a function where you can calculate the tangent in all the points of this domain. So this means that this is a smooth function, right? And, for example, in the vertex of the solar function, you cannot calculate the tangent. So this is a non-smooth function. This is important and later we will see it. And also in 3D, in three dimensions, this is a smooth function. And as you can see, also a vertex, this is a non-smooth function. Many of you may use the gradient of the function to solve the problem. In more cases, this gradient is not given. So you have to calculate it numerically. If you have a non-smooth function, this is so complicated and you will not be sure that you don't have a mistake. So, to optimize, we prefer the green graph, the exit function, so non-smooth function. Well, if you have something like this, it's a convex function. When the tangent in a point is completely horizontal, you will have a minimum. In this case, you only have one point. It's the lowest point, so it's a global minimum. And, of course, if you have more than one point that has the horizontal tangent, you have more than one minimum. In this case, you have the lowest value for the function. It's the global minimum, and you have other minimum that are the local minimum. This is so important. And why is this important? Well, when you are solving this type of problem, you don't actually know the value of all the points in your function.  So it could be possible that if the fog is going out, it could be that you are not in the global point, in the global optimal. Well, what is a convex and non-convex function? This is a convex function. Imagine if you choose any two points in the graph, and you trace a similar line between these two points. If the graph is always down the segment, you have a convex function. If not, you have a non-convex function. Yes, easy. And also in three dimensions, convex and non-convex functions can be down. So this is an important subject. What is a constraint? Well, constraint is a function that limits your search space to find a minimum. Imagine we have this function, this is the control of the function, and the lowest point is the black point, the global minimum. If we have no any constraint, our optimum point is the black point, the global minimum. Okay? So we can have different types of constraints. Like this, it's a quality constraint. That means that the optimum point must be inside our restrictions. So the solution for this problem is in the red point. This is the optimum. And as you can see, it's the clear point to the global minimum inside these restrictions. You can have inequality constraints that allows you to search your optimum point over the restriction or under the restriction. In this case, as you can say, you can search your optimum point. Over the inequality constraint. And of course, the optimum point is the global minimum of the function. So it's fantastic. And you can have the other case. You are only allowed to search the optimum point under the constraint. So your solution is this red point. And you can ask me, well, it's a little far of the global minimum yet. But this is your problem. And this is the better solution for this case.  And this is so important. Of course, you have more than one constraint. You can perform a little search space to find the minimum. And as you can see, the red point is another point, right? Of course, this region that you find with the constraint should be a convex region to be sure you are in a global optimum point. Because if you have some like this, you never could be sure you are in a global optimum. You only can assure the solution is a local minimum or a local maximum, but not the best solution. Well, most of the figure and script from WebAssembly and Cypillecture. Thank you very much. Well, attending to this, the termination problem can be divided by using these ideas. If you pay attention of your objective function or your retention, you can ask, well, it's a linear. It's a nonlinear. Or we have a decision variable. That means that you can do a choice. For example, I only want a vegetarian minimum or not. It's like one or zero. There are half my problem binary variable, yes or no? So we can have linear programming program, mixed-integral linear programming problems, nonlinear programming problem, and the most difficult mixed-integral nonlinear programming problem. And each one of these type of problems have a main algorithm to solve it. For example, we'll use the simplex algorithm to solve linear programming. Well, an optimization model can be defined mathematically as follows. This is our problem, the data problem. And as you can see, there are only letters, but don't be afraid in PiOMO. This is not that abstract model because we put the coefficient and other parameters externally. And this is a concrete model in PiOMO where you put specificity, the value of the parameters of other coefficient in the problem. So now I'm going to change. Okay. Well, the optimization problem could be solved through a solver. A solver is the implementation of the main algorithm so we before. And some of these solvers could be that you saw here. For linear programming, we can use GLPK, PULP, COWICS, OLD. For example, for mixed-integral nonlinear programming, we use VARON and SIPLEX. SIPLEX is fantastic. Really, really. Well, we can use this solver through an algorithm through the algebraic modeling language that sees high-level computer languages that support formulation and analysis of large mathematical problems. Some of them are AMPEL, GAMS, Ames, and of course PiOMO. PiOMO is interesting because it allows the formulation of algebraic models using Python. And this is great. And it communicates with principal solvers even Neo server. And why PiOMO? Well, why not PiOMO? Yeah. PiOMO is an open source, has a solver integration, and has several advantages over quantum, it's a robot language, has extensive documentation, a rich set of standard libraries, and more. So why not PiOMO? It's a good option. So for studying PiOMO, we have to thank Juan Luis Cano for his help building the Cona Resafe for PiOMO. Juan Luis is also in the conference. Thank you, Juan Luis. For installing, you only have to type this line code, and you have to install the solvers separately because they don't have implemented installation, but it's not a problem. If you want to install GLPKI to solve a problem and mix an internal programming, type this. And to solve non-linear programming, you can use E-pop, type in this other line. And you can install some extra, like Nail Server, that is the free internet-based service for solving numerical optimization problem. And it's so interesting for more information, click the link. And now I give the award, I don't know what to say, to 30 that is going to explain the problem we perform. We are sorry for that much of theory, but if we don't show you that, you will not understand what I'm going to show you now. So I'm now going to show you the practical part of this. So now we're going to improve our diet. And, well, our problem is that, like Danny explained before, but in, we have two cases. The first case is we set our menu from a fast food restaurant, you want. And we want to minimize the cost, but eat the healthiest way. So we have a lot of constraints. We have to minimize our function option. And, well, all that have to be the optimum solution for us. So how I did this, I actually am not good with guideline daily amounts and this stuff, but I was searching on the internet. And, well, I find a lot of data about the input of daily nutrients you should eat a day. What you can see here for different woman, man, children, that we'll just shoot you today. It's a little bit, I don't know if someone does that. But, well, using this, I have done the problem. I've solved it. First, we need to import pyoma. You say we are importing everything, but it's like, it's convention and pyoma. So he does this because it's like this. And then I got the data. I have to say the data, it's not totally real. So everything could be real. It's fiction. And you will say here is my data. And we have, I don't know if they will let me show you. But in this data, we have all menus, the costs, and then on that, I will show you later if you want, we set all parameters. We will be all constrained values. It means in this case, we have calories, sugar, proteins and some of this stuff. And I've settled maximum and minimum values I want in my diet. So solving this problem, first we need to input the model. This type of problem is a linear problem and an abstract model. So we set the sets. The sets is the data I used to get the model in. And in this case, we have the products and the nutrients with the parameters, which are data which depends on the sets I have set before. And we have cost, nutrients, and a maximum and minimum of each nutrients. So which, of course, we will default zero and infinite. Then we have all variables. We'll be, in this case, a number of servings, what we're going to take. Our objective function is to minimize the cost of the food. And it's the normal structure of our object function. All constrained with is the, I think, the most difficult part of the code because you have to look what you're going to do and it's, they don't want to show you a more difficult problem like that. And well, this is very easy. We have maximum and minimum, nothing more. And solving the problem, that's what Paimo gives you as a solution. You have one solution, which is great. We have a function value. It means we have minimized the cost of 369 euros. And, well, he finished everything done. And the solution he does for us is this. But it's not showing my solution. I don't know why. On there it, what you don't see, he gives you the answer. It makes, in this case, we get, you can eat one Big Mac and you have optimistic your diet. You see, that's everything you can eat in one meal, of course, because you have, but only the hamburger, you can't eat the fries. Only hamburgers. You have to say, here, you see, that's a normal graph of what we've gone with Big Mac. You see, this black one is the daily amount in one meal you should eat, but this type of food has a lot of salt, a lot of fat.  It won't be great. Now, I'm going to show you something very different. I like this problem a lot, because I was thinking what can do more with the diet problem. And I was thinking, well, now we're going to do the opposite. It means how much calories I can eat in one meal for only five euros. And it was like, wow, I go there and eat a lot. So, no. Well, how do I do that? Yeah, it's worth it. Let's eat. And, well, we dig the same. We do the import of firemen. We get the data, which you will not find that there is a dead link. I don't know what's happened. Well, and to solve that, it's an abstract model. We set our sets or parameters. But in this time, you see it's not the nutrients that we're going to set to maximum or minimum. This time is the cost. Zero and five euros in this case. Our variables are the same. And our objective function now is the calories. But we want the maximum. You see, payam is very visual and very easy. You see there the sense, when you want to minimise, you put there minimise, and when you maximise, you put maximise. You don't have to do anything more. And, well, our constraint now will be on the cost and our solution we got. You see, you can eat a warm meal, 2,690 kilo calories for five euros.  Which I think is respectable for five euros. And the solution is this. You should eat three hamburgers for one euro, 29, and one package of grilled onion rings. Which I've never seen. Now, I'm sorry for it. We are chemical engineers and we love reactors. And distillation coming. So now you're going to say the problem we solve normally. And, well, that's a problem or example. In this case, we solve chemical engineering, chemical industry problems. So we have to maximise our ways to get a product and to minimise our environmental impact because we deal with a lot of chemical products and something like that. So to make it easy for you, we have products which we can do, pass with a reactor to a final product, which will be beer in this case. And then we can separate water from the alcohol with distillation and we'll get whiskey and water. But we have conduit with two types, reactors. We have butt and continuaries with main to butt reactor. It's what you're doing home. You put your water in and stop the reaction, eat it, and then put another boiling water on it. Continues, it will be there how much time you wanted. And distillation is the same. You have a butt reactor which is, I think it's on a Simpsons capitol. Yeah, they explode the thing. But you can do it in short times or in long time for continuaries. And well, that's not why I'm going to show you. We have this superstructure. We have A want to get it to B and then to C. And we have two ways to got it. We have a reactor. We have a lot of distillation columns. And well, we get to say us what we can do with the minimum environmental impact. And well, we have a lot of reactions. Everyone is interested and you can read them all of it. I didn't think he would want that. Here, we have interesting fact. We have disjunctions. This is the first time you will see them. Disjunctions, you have to imagine it as like two situations. We have situation one, which is when we have situation one, the cost and every product will be this data. But if this situation is not going to happen, we have the other. It means everything is zero. So this part is not existing anymore. And this is the hardest part to deal with it on Payamor, which if everyone is interested, you can come to me outside and I will explain you how to do it. So now we are going to introduce binary variables, which is everyone, I think, knows what the binary variable is. The one of zero, well, it exists or it doesn't exist. So optimizing or finding objection, you see this time it's not a lovely linear problem. This time we have a real expression with everything math stuff. And now I'm going to show you the results because the code is very, very long. These are the results, what we should do. So you say, Payamor, you can use it for everything, to go to McDonald's or to make your own reactor at home and settle, I don't know, whiskey, beer, what you want. So you can use everything of this for your own choice. And last but not least, I have to say it. I mean, I said before, because we are both part of Catemi, which is a non-profit organization from the University of Alicante, which encouraged chemical engineers to use programming because we actually don't learn to program in our studies. And well, we have to thank, if you want to see the home page. And we have to thank a lot to our teachers, Fran Navarro and Rue Femenia, which have helped us to adjust this. And I hope you enjoyed the speech. I wanted to know if you know what are the methods for optimization that are used inside Piomo or any of the tools that you are calling from it? Like, is it iterative? Is it iterative way? Is it Newtonian? Is it conjugate gradient? What kind of method of optimization is done to arrive to the minimum? It's, normally it's an iterative way, so he tries everything and he wants to choose how the solution will fit everything. But normally, you have seen a very simple problem, but before I showed you, you have, I think, 29 equations. You have to optimize it because the solution needs to fit every of them. So sometimes it will be a good solution what you get, but sometimes not. So you have to play a little bit with that. We normally use GAMs and you will see the code is on there, too, that they give very similar, but not the same solution for you to the same problem because every solver had his own stuff. I don't know if that's the answer to your question. Yeah. No, it's okay. I can shout. We won't be recording. Thank you very much for the talk and the optimization of calories for five euros. Did you have any constraints as in non-toxic level of salt or fat? So can you survive those calories or did you have no constraints? I was looking at that and I saw on the internet that you should eat two grams of salt a day, which is, I think, a lot more. So I was looking at it and I think if you eat that much of calories and of salt a day, maybe you go to the hospital on the next. So I don't think you can eat that much for one meal. It will be too much for you to get that. We have burgers and one... No, there are the 2,600 calories, I mean. Yeah, the problem is, no, the food had a lot of salt and sugar and that's too much you should have in your body. So you will have problems later, maybe. I don't know if maybe not. You should try it. You should try it. For science. Please send me a message if you have tried, if you are okay. Hi, thank you for the talk. I have a question. Why can't you drink this water? It's whiskey water, basically. Drink and drive, you know. Why? There is water waste. Don't drink that. It's water. It's whiskey water, right? I will buy it. Okay. That's... Well, that's... That's because you have to study a little bit about distillation. You have a lot of types of different alcohol types in whiskey and you have to see there are some types you can't get behind from it. So that's what you are extracting and that's in the water. So maybe if you... Yeah, it's water. There may be some molecules of water in it. Normally, everything what we got in the chemical engineering prediction, you don't shoot, eat it or taste it. Well, I didn't recommend to drink that. So does that mean if you mix wastewater with whiskey, then you get beer out of it? No, no. It will be great, it will be great. Okay, my actual question... My actual question is it possible to have the two objectives? I think you implemented now the nutrition constraints as constraints. But can there be two objectives which are somehow weighted that you can say... Well, that you can compromise between nutritional value and money spent. So it's fine if the nutritional value is not quite as high if you save two euro or something like that. Well, yes, you can perform a multi-objective exercise but not using this technique. For example, if you are interested in optimizing the cost and the medical care, there are two objectives that are different. So you have to use Pareto on other techniques. No using these techniques. But yes, you could do it but using other things. This is only for one objective function. Yeah, you can do it. If you want later, we can talk about it. What you can do will be easier if you want to do it like this. You can transform one of the function objectives in a constraint. So if they're satisfied, you have two function objectives. You only have to do what are you dealing with. It's to know what you're doing. Normally, we don't know that. The speech should be 45 minutes but I was a little bit fast, so I'm sorry for that. Any more questions? No, so we can have our free meal. Thanks for coming. Thanks for our speakers.