text:
CRU 256GB ToughTech M3 USB 3.0 HFS+ 2.5" External Solid State Drive

          More From: CRU
          Item #: 16087489
          Mfr. Part#: 36270-1224-3000
          Availability: Temporarily Out-of-Stock
          Est. Ship: Call for next available delivery

            Ordering Information

            Professional photographers, musicians, and creatives rely on CRU ToughTech drive enclosures, like the ToughTech m3, for safe, secure storage of their images, recording sessions, and other important data. Its rugged portability and small size makes the ToughTech m3 perfect for storing data on the set or on the stage - and then tossing it into a bag for travel back to the studio.

            It features a unique WriteProtect read-only mode that "locks down" your data and prevents someone from accidentally deleting or modifying it. This is a handy way to protect your drive when loaning it to a client or someone else to distribute files or data.

            The ToughTech m3 drive enclosure is made from strong aluminum to protect your drive when you are carrying it with you. The ToughTech m3 connects to your computer via speedy USB 3.0, and does not require additional AC power.
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            Returns Policy This product is subject to our return policy. Please see our complete return policy for details.
            Hard Drive Capacity 256.000 GB
            UNSPSC 43201803
            Warranty - Labor 2 Years
            Warranty - Parts 2 Years
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            Our Accessibility Policy

            We endeavor to make our website accessible to any and all users. Please contact us toll-free at 800-998-4388 if you need assistance with navigating our blog, website, or placing an order. We appreciate your business and are happy to answer any questions that you may have.


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text:
Kingston 128GB DataTraveler microDuo 3C USB 3.1 Flash Drive

          More From: Kingston
          Item #: 32965077
          Mfr. Part#: DTDUO3C/128GB
          Availability: Partial Quantity Available
          Est. Ship: Call for next available delivery

          • Storage Capacity = 128GB
          • Warranty: 5 Years

          Ordering Information

          DataTraveler microDuo 3C has a dual interface that works with both standard USB and USB Type-C ports. It’s an ideal way to provide up to 128GB of extra storage for the latest smartphones, tablets, PCs and Mac computers, which may have limited expansion ports, and it’s easier than sharing files via online services. It’s plug and play and fast, with speeds up to 100MB/s read and 15MB/s write, and it has a rotating cap to protect the reversible USB Type-C connector.
          Collapse & Return to Top
          Compatibility Notes Dual interface accommodates USB Type-A and USB Type-C ports.

          Additional storage for newer devices with limited expansion ports.

          Fast data transfer speeds up to 100MB/s read and 15MB/s write.
          Contents flash drive, documentation
          Color Clear
          Ports/Connectors (1) USB Type C (M)
          (1) USB Type A (M)
          Returns Policy This product is subject to our return policy. Please see our complete return policy for details.
          Storage Capacity 128 GB
          System Requirements Compatible Operating Systems:
          Windows 10, 8.1, 8, 7 (SP1), Vista (SP2)
          Mac OS X v.10.8.x+
          Linux v.2.6.x +
          Chrome OS
          UNSPSC 43202005
          Warranty - Labor 5 Years
          Warranty - Parts 5 Years
          Collapse & Return to Top

          Our Accessibility Policy

          We endeavor to make our website accessible to any and all users. Please contact us toll-free at 800-998-4388 if you need assistance with navigating our blog, website, or placing an order. We appreciate your business and are happy to answer any questions that you may have.

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text:
December 13, 2013
Albany, NY

Governor Cuomo Announces Ginsberg's Foods to Expand in Columbia County

TOP Governor Cuomo Announces Ginsberg's Foods...

Governor Andrew M. Cuomo today announced that Ginsbergs Foods, Inc., the largest independent food service distributor in the Capital Region and Hudson Valley with clients in five states, will expand its operations in Columbia County. Ginsbergs Foods will invest $11.3 million to construct a 65,000 square foot refrigerated warehouse, allowing the company to expand selections across all of their product lines, creating 51 new jobs and retaining 233 existing jobs.

Over the last three years, state government has been actively partnering with businesses to help them grow and thrive right here in New York State, Governor Cuomo said. Ginsbergs Foods is a family-run business that has grown into a well-known wholesale food service distributor serving customers throughout the Northeast and actively supporting the local farming community. The States support of this expansion project will help to create and protect hundreds of local jobs and ensure that Ginsbergs Foods remains a vibrant source of economic activity in the region.

Columbia County has been home to our business for more than a century, says Ginsbergs Foods CEO David Ginsberg. So when the time came to expand, we wanted to stay right here. Not only has this been a good base of operations for us, but the majority of our employees are local residents. Thanks to the support of the county and the state, we can take this opportunity to move forward while still retaining the best of our current situation. Its a win-win for everyone.

During the search for a suitable building site, Ginsbergs Foods considered moving to neighboring states, but ultimately chose to stay in New York. To assist with this job creation project, Empire State Development is providing Ginsbergs with nearly $1 million in performance-based Excelsior Jobs program tax credits. In addition, New York State Homes and Community Renewal (HCR) is providing $516,000 in New York State Community Development Block Grant funds that will be used to offset the costs of fixtures and equipment.

Empire State Development President, CEO & Commissioner Kenneth Adams said, We thank Ginsbergs for their commitment to the Capital Region and to New York State. Ginsbergs decision to grow in New York will allow for increased capacity and improved customer service. It will also greatly benefit the states agriculture industry and have a major economic impact on Columbia County through the creation and retention of several hundred employees.

Commissioner/CEO of New York State Homes and Community Renewal Darryl C. Towns said, Under Governor Andrew Cuomos leadership, New York State is more committed than ever to helping small businesses thrive. Ginsbergs Foods will invest millions of dollars and bring jobs, stability, and economic growth to Columbia County. At the same time, the company will help bolster the States farming industry. HCR is pleased to support the expansion of Ginsbergs Foods and we look forward to the companys continued success in Columbia County.

Assemblymember Didi Barrett said, For well over a century Ginsbergs has been a vital component of our local economy. Not only has Ginsbergs committed to keeping its operations and, more importantly, jobs right here in Columbia County, they have also been an outstanding community partner. Creating jobs and supporting local businesses is a priority, and this is a terrific example of government listening and working with private businesses to keep good jobs here at home.

Columbia Economic Development Corporation Executive Director Kenneth J. Flood said, We thank Governor Cuomo for his continued commitment in supporting our existing businesses, new business growth and job creation in New York State. Ginsbergs Foods is a true Columbia County success story. We are pleased with the companys decision to expand its presence in our community and look forward to many years of continued partnership and success.

Hudson Valley AgriBusiness Development Corp. Executive Director Todd Erling said, As an active sponsor and supporter of the Hudson Valley Bounty program, Ginsbergs Foods is a valuable link in the regional food system. The expansion is an opportunity to increase critical capacity and distribution infrastructure for local farms and New York food businesses. Ginsbergs Foods and the commitment to the new project is an example of the regional collaboration necessary to enhance our local and regional food system.


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Alleged White House shooter charged with assassination attempt

An Idaho man who allegedly fired two shots at the White House last week has been charged with attempting to assassinate President Obama, the U.S. Attorney's office in Washington said on Thursday.

Ramiro Ortega-Hernandez, 21, of Idaho Falls, was arrested on Wednesday in Pennsylvania and taken into federal custody. He was charged on Thursday in a federal court in Pittsburgh and will be taken back to Washington to face the charges. Ortega-Hernandez only said "Yes, ma'am" when asked if he understood he was going back to Washington, according to the Associated Press.

The maximum sentence for Ortega-Hernandez's charge is life in prison.

Obama was not in Washington at the time of the shooting.

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At the 2011 National Association of State Chief Information Officers' (NASCIO) Midyear Conference held last week in Washington, D.C., CIOs discussed such topics as the importance of understanding the perspectives of our nation’s governors, legislators and budget officers; how tools can assist states in meeting their financial challenges, with federal and state examples of how to utilize a dashboard to track project progress, aid in course correction and possible project elimination; and reactions to the Affordable Care Act, to name just a few.

The NASCIO Midyear Conference drew more than 400 people to Washington, D.C. -- record attendance for the event. Representatives from 42 states were onsite, including a number of newly appointed state CIOs.

To see more photos, visit the NASCIO Midyear Conference 2011 slideshow.

Photo by David Kidd


text:
Home on the Range

America's guns-to-people ratio is nearly one-to-one. Bad thing? Probably. But as one east coast city boy finds each time he returns home to the middle, the family that shoots together stays together

My parents are sweet, smart, lovely people. My dad grew up in southeast Texas—you can sometimes catch a bit of swampy twang when he talks—and once, when he was a punk-ass longhair kid, he shared a table at a club with Janis Joplin. These days he's been known to, unprompted, clear the neighbor's driveway with his snowblower. This is in the suburbs of Omaha, so, you know, that's just how the guy rolls. My mom's a killer quilter—if you happened to see the March 2012 issue of American Quilter magazine, yeah, she worked on the cover quilt—and runs a specialty quilting shop. They are adorable, my parents.

They are armed to the teeth at all times.

You wouldn't know it by looking at them, because they own sneaky little concealment holsters and, in the case of my mother, a purse that has a special hidden gun pocket where she secretes away the pistol she bought precisely because of how easily it fits into her purse's special hidden gun pocket. There's a gun stashed away in most of the rooms in their house, including the computer room, where a signed photo of celebrity Marine sniper Carlos Hathcock (ninety-three confirmed kills) hangs on the wall.

Guns have always been in the Segura household—my old man served twenty-four years in the air force doing one of those "I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you" jobs, and growing up in military communities, you didn't see a lot of Dukakis bumper stickers—but it wasn't until a few years ago that guns became such a prominent feature. This development coincided with my folks' procurement of concealed-carry permits. Early on, in the honeymoon period with their permits, I wanted to believe it was a novelty. They could carry, and therefore they carried. It's a new toy, right? But it's like any other routine: You build your patterns, and your ways quickly get set. One day you're walking out the door and checking to make sure you've got your keys, wallet, and sunglasses. Day after, you're making sure you've got your keys, wallet, sunglasses, and your .38.

Anyway. Soon after my folks got their permits, my wife and I visited. The old man picked us up at the airport, and on the drive home, someone cut us off on the freeway. As one does, my dad commented on the many ways the guy was an asshole. Then he patted his watch cap, which was lying on the center console. "Would hate to have to use this," he said. He shot me a wink and picked up the cap, and there it was: the Glock.

He was joking, of course. But that was a turning point, and pretty rapidly the right to carry became the duty to carry. Going to see Granny? Grab the Glock. Grocery run? Grab the Glock. Gassing up the car? Grab the Glock. Going to the yarn store? Maybe just the .380 for that one. You know, in the movies, when the Seals are in the helicopter and are about to land and run out and fuck shit up? There's that scene, every time, where they're all checking to make sure they're locked and loaded. That's what it's like to run an errand with my parents. They're not any more worried about being mugged than they were before they started packing, but now, you see: Now they're prepared. I called them up recently, the Sunday check-in. Know what they were doing? Shopping for gear to put in a gunshot first-aid kit. Two kits, actually: one for each car. Prepared.

A little while ago, they took a four-day class with a guy who travels the country teaching armed self-defense workshops. Dude looks like he eats a bowl of broken glass for breakfast and washes it down with a shot of rattlesnake venom. My folks told me what they were up to, and I thought: Shit. They're going to vigilante camp. I went through my mental Rolodex of defense attorneys I used to know from my days as a reporter in Omaha: Who would I call when Mom was facing a second-degree-murder beef? After all, the coursework is a mix of classroom lecture—rules of engagement, threat recognition, legal stuff—and live-fire training where you learn things like how to draw from concealment, how to shoot left- and right-handed and from cover, how to quickly reload (think about that for a second: reload), and then how to deal with the cops when they show up. (Hint: Don't lie.) You learn when it's okay to pull the trigger. Turns out there's a pretty high standard for when you can take someone down. Ask yourself: Is this person going to kill me? For real, though. Not like, there's a menacing figure in a leather jacket walking toward you. You can't shoot that guy. Not even if he comes up to you and says, "Gimme all your money." Keep your finger off the trigger. He takes a swing? Pretty much, you still can't blast him. My mom—intelligent, responsible lady—did not know when she could and could not shoot someone. She told me she was a menace to society before the class and that it was a miracle she wasn't in prison. And here's the thing: Neither she nor my dad want to shoot anyone. They're about as dangerous as a pair of napping kittens. I think a lot of it was simply a matter of a couple of empty nesters looking for something to do once their asshole kids were out of the house. But those perfunctory safety classes they had to take to get their permits did not prepare them for the reality of what it means to walk around strapped. So, yeah, I'm glad my folks went to gun camp, and I don't really worry about them these days. What I do worry about is that crank out there who managed to limp over the very low hurdle that stood between him and his permit and is cruising the streets with a pistol full of hollow-points jammed in his waistband, being righteous and uneducated and looking for a reason. That guy's a problem. Something like 6 million people with concealed-carry permits, how many are that guy?

My folks aren't whack jobs. They're not doomsday preppers. They're not even on the neighborhood watch. (I don't think their neighborhood even has one, that's how tame it is where they live.) Most cops will tell you they've never once had to take a shot. Cops. Whose job it is to chase bad guys down dark alleys. But none of that matters, because the carry movement is about emotion. Eventually it has an effect on you, the idea that if you are not armed you are not safe. It is, at its core, about fear. Fear and insecurity. And even more than "the need to," it seems to be about "the right to." The Second Amendment has become so distorted that today carrying a concealed pistol is a patriotic duty. Now, I'm not quite convinced that the Founding Fathers' intention with that whole "well-regulated militia" thing was to enshrine the right to strap on a .45 when you run out to grab a pizza, but go ahead: Try having that discussion.

There's a lot about my lifestyle choices that don't make any sense to my parents, either. Dropping $400 on a pair of shoes? Crazy. Flying to Europe to watch a ninety-minute sporting event? Insanity. Bugging out to the Middle East for a couple of weeks? Pretty goddamned ill-advised. And yet for all our differences on the gun front, there is one place where we do meet in the middle: the shooting range. I'll confess that the highlight of my trips home these days is shooting with my folks. Yep, I'm your typical effete East Coast dickface, but when I'm back in Omaha, I go native.

It's fucking amazing, the range. This is how we work it: First thing, we decide, en famille, which pistols to bring. We normally take the .22 for my wife (a Massachusetts liberal who has hung out a few times with the Dalai Lama, she's caught the bug, too), a revolver, and either the Glock nine-millimeter or Glock .40, though sometimes we go full Travis Bickle and bring both Glocks. We pack our kit early so we can arrive at The Bullet Hole before the rush. (My parents are members.) It's a pretty slick setup they have there: We walk in with our bags full of lethal toys, sign in, and—bang!—we're off. Shooting, I'm a fan of the one-handed lean-forward stance, with its essence of "You talkin' to me?" My wife's more a traditional two-handed, face-forward, feet-apart kind of shooter, the way my dad showed her. Her first time out there, she got a convict-looking teardrop burn when a nine-millimeter casing bounced its way under her shooting glasses. That was a tender moment: baby's first brass burn.

We go at it for an hour or so, rotating through guns and blasting through targets. We help each other out: I'll load a couple of magazines so my dad can blaze away with minimal reload time. He'll do the same for me later. Maybe a couple of lanes over, there's a guy shooting something full-auto, and there's casings pinging all over the place, and, you know, it's indoors, so even with the ear protection it's loud like a methed-up Chinese New Year, and the air is sharp with the stinging smell of burnt powder, and there's my mom and my wife trading off shooting their dainty lady guns, and my old man is punching forty-cal holes in a hostage-situation target at ten yards, and by the end my wrist is throbbing and my shooting hand is silver-black with gunpowder residue and my ears are ringing and my dad gives me a thumbs-up: Job well done. It's fantastic. Fuckin' America, man!

Well, Middle America. I'm from there, mostly, so I get it. I also realize my folks are a bit more passionate about their guns and living the self-defense lifestyle than most. But that sort of quality family time wouldn't fly in my communist-utopia N.Y.C. Not that we've really had the opportunity to give it a shot. I've lived in New York for ten years, and my folks have been out here twice: when I finished grad school and when I got married. I've never pressed them on why they don't visit, but I suspect that one of the prime reasons they haven't is that they wouldn't be able to legally carry on the mean cobblestone streets of my fancified corner of Brooklyn. Who knows, right? A nanny could have a psycho freak-out. A Euro tourist could go rabid and bash your face in with his giant camera. A sniper could set up shop on one of the luxury rooftop cabanas nearby. The possibilities for danger are limitless, and out here you only have the cops to protect you. Good luck with that.

Look, guns are some scary shit. Handguns especially. You look at a handgun, you hold a handgun, and you understand: The purpose of this tool is to shoot someone. With a rifle you can kill a moose and, if you're in Alaska, eat on it all winter. A pistol? That's for shooting people. And yet here I am, trucking my spent Nespresso capsules to SoHo to get recycled, and my parents are over there shopping for khakis with secret gun pockets—and our happy middle ground just happens to be at a shooting range, popping off rounds. For all the destructive power packed into pistols, they've also got, in our case, a remarkable ability to create some full-bore Norman Rockwell moments. That's how I like my guns: at a cozy distance. But this is for sure—if the shit does hit the fan? I'm going to Omaha.


text:
Friday Night Lights

like most of the people in odessa mike is from a poor family why doesn't he like bringing his girlfriend over to his house

dreaming of heroes

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Mike was so ashamed of his "shabby house" that he wouldn't let his girlfriend enter it. (Prologue)

Friday Night Lights


text:
Conceptual Physics (12th Edition)

Published by Addison-Wesley
ISBN 10: 0321909100
ISBN 13: 978-0-32190-910-7

Chapter 13 - Think and Explain: 73

A high mountain composed of lead would be denser than the mantle material beneath it and would sink (see the previous question).
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The Power of One

How does the setting of the story actually affect the plot?

What are some main points as to how the setting affected the plot?

For instance, how did the time and/or wars affect the plot.

How did the story taking okace in South Africa affect the plot?

Thank you

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Last updated by Aslan
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The setting is in South Africa and we are constantly reminded of this by the landscape and themes. Racism becomes the main theme in the story. Blacks are segregated in their own country in an era of apartheid that is uniquely South African,

Within a week of being elected, the Nationalists kept their promise, and white South Africans derived great satisfaction from knowing that for once they had a government that kept its word. Meanwhile, the black South Africans prepared to bend their backs to the sjambok and for the invention of a new game where they voluntarily fell on their heads from the third story of police headquarters to the pavement below.

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To Kill a Mockingbird

Atticus says that Mrs. Dubose is a role model of real courage rather than "a man with a gun in his hand". What does he mean? Do you think he is right?

Chapter 11

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Atticus sees what most people do not in Mrs. Dubose. Where people see a morphine addicted nasty old lady, Atticus sees a lady who had a difficult life trying to die with a shred of dignity. One of my favourite lines from Atticus, and there are many, is when he tries to explain this to his kids,

"I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do. Mrs Dubose won, all ninety-eight pounds of her. According to her views, she died beholden to nothing and nobody. She was the bravest person I ever knew."

Mrs. Dubose was a lonely old lady who numbed the pain of many years the only way she could. In the end she battled her addiction and found room in her heart to let two children, Scout and Jem, into her life.


text:
To Kill a Mockingbird

What made mrs.dubose brave in attic uses eyes.? In chapter 11

Chapter 11

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Last updated by jill d #170087
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Atticus wanted the children to understand that courage has to do with the fight for one's personal goals, no matter what the odds are against achieving the goal. Heroism consists of the fight itself, the struggle against fate, circumstance, or any other overpowering force. Mrs. Dubose's goal is to break free from her addiction to morphine. Her struggle against the clock and mortality is easily compared to Atticus's struggle to uphold his own morals despite the hopelessness of his case and the lack of support he has in town. According to Atticus's definition, he and Mrs. Dubose are both brave, even heroic, and he wants the children to follow their example. Even though Mrs. Dubose is a mean and bigoted old woman, she does have good qualities that demand respect. Atticus wants the children to see that though many of the townspeople are ignorant and racist, they also have personal strengths and are not fundamentally bad people.


text:
Uncle Tom's Cabin

Miss Ophelia's Experiences and Opinions Continued

"Tom, you needn't get me the horses. I don't want to go," she said.

"Why not, Miss Eva?"

"These things sink into my heart, Tom," said Eva,--"they sink into my heart," she repeated, earnestly. "I don't want to go;" and she turned from Tom, and went into the house.

A few days after, another woman came, in old Prue's place, to bring the rusks; Miss Ophelia was in the kitchen.

"Lor!" said Dinah, "what's got Prue?"

"Prue isn't coming any more," said the woman, mysteriously.

"Why not?" said Dinah, "she an't dead, is she?"

"We doesn't exactly know. She's down cellar," said the woman, glancing at Miss Ophelia.

After Miss Ophelia had taken the rusks, Dinah followed the woman to the door.

"What _has_ got Prue, any how?" she said.

The woman seemed desirous, yet reluctant, to speak, and answered, in low, mysterious tone.

"Well, you mustn't tell nobody, Prue, she got drunk agin,--and they had her down cellar,--and thar they left her all day,--and I hearn 'em saying that the _flies had got to her_,--and _she's dead_!"

Dinah held up her hands, and, turning, saw close by her side the spirit-like form of Evangeline, her large, mystic eyes dilated with horror, and every drop of blood driven from her lips and cheeks.

"Lor bless us! Miss Eva's gwine to faint away! What go us all, to let her har such talk? Her pa'll be rail mad."

"I shan't faint, Dinah," said the child, firmly; "and why shouldn't I hear it? It an't so much for me to hear it, as for poor Prue to suffer it."

"_Lor sakes_! it isn't for sweet, delicate young ladies, like you,--these yer stories isn't; it's enough to kill 'em!"

Eva sighed again, and walked up stairs with a slow and melancholy step.

Miss Ophelia anxiously inquired the woman's story. Dinah gave a very garrulous version of it, to which Tom added the particulars which he had drawn from her that morning.

"An abominable business,--perfectly horrible!" she exclaimed, as she entered the room where St. Clare lay reading his paper.

"Pray, what iniquity has turned up now?" said he.

"What now? why, those folks have whipped Prue to death!" said Miss Ophelia, going on, with great strength of detail, into the story, and enlarging on its most shocking particulars.

"I thought it would come to that, some time," said St. Clare, going on with his paper.

"Thought so!--an't you going to _do_ anything about it?" said Miss Ophelia. "Haven't you got any _selectmen_, or anybody, to interfere and look after such matters?"

"It's commonly supposed that the _property_ interest is a sufficient guard in these cases. If people choose to ruin their own possessions, I don't know what's to be done. It seems the poor creature was a thief and a drunkard; and so there won't be much hope to get up sympathy for her."

"It is perfectly outrageous,--it is horrid, Augustine! It will certainly bring down vengeance upon you."

"My dear cousin, I didn't do it, and I can't help it; I would, if I could. If low-minded, brutal people will act like themselves, what am I to do? they have absolute control; they are irresponsible despots. There would be no use in interfering; there is no law that amounts to anything practically, for such a case. The best we can do is to shut our eyes and ears, and let it alone. It's the only resource left us."

"How can you shut your eyes and ears? How can you let such things alone?"

"My dear child, what do you expect? Here is a whole class,--debased, uneducated, indolent, provoking,--put, without any sort of terms or conditions, entirely into the hands of such people as the majority in our world are; people who have neither consideration nor self-control, who haven't even an enlightened regard to their own interest,--for that's the case with the largest half of mankind. Of course, in a community so organized, what can a man of honorable and humane feelings do, but shut his eyes all he can, and harden his heart? I can't buy every poor wretch I see. I can't turn knight-errant, and undertake to redress every individual case of wrong in such a city as this. The most I can do is to try and keep out of the way of it."

St. Clare's fine countenance was for a moment overcast; he said,

"Come, cousin, don't stand there looking like one of the Fates; you've only seen a peep through the curtain,--a specimen of what is going on, the world over, in some shape or other. If we are to be prying and spying into all the dismals of life, we should have no heart to anything. 'T is like looking too close into the details of Dinah's kitchen;" and St. Clare lay back on the sofa, and busied himself with his paper.

Miss Ophelia sat down, and pulled out her knitting-work, and sat there grim with indignation. She knit and knit, but while she mused the fire burned; at last she broke out--"I tell you, Augustine, I can't get over things so, if you can. It's a perfect abomination for you to defend such a system,--that's _my_ mind!"

"What now?" said St. Clare, looking up. "At it again, hey?"

"I say it's perfectly abominable for you to defend such a system!" said Miss Ophelia, with increasing warmth.

"_I_ defend it, my dear lady? Who ever said I did defend it?" said St. Clare.

"Of course, you defend it,--you all do,--all you Southerners. What do you have slaves for, if you don't?"

"Are you such a sweet innocent as to suppose nobody in this world ever does what they don't think is right? Don't you, or didn't you ever, do anything that you did not think quite right?"

"If I do, I repent of it, I hope," said Miss Ophelia, rattling her needles with energy.

"So do I," said St. Clare, peeling his orange; "I'm repenting of it all the time."

"What do you keep on doing it for?"

"Didn't you ever keep on doing wrong, after you'd repented, my good cousin?"

"Well, only when I've been very much tempted," said Miss Ophelia.

"Well, I'm very much tempted," said St. Clare; "that's just my difficulty."

"But I always resolve I won't and I try to break off."

"Well, I have been resolving I won't, off and on, these ten years," said St. Clare; "but I haven't, some how, got clear. Have you got clear of all your sins, cousin?"

"Cousin Augustine," said Miss Ophelia, seriously, and laying down her knitting-work, "I suppose I deserve that you should reprove my short-comings. I know all you say is true enough; nobody else feels them more than I do; but it does seem to me, after all, there is some difference between me and you. It seems to me I would cut off my right hand sooner than keep on, from day to day, doing what I thought was wrong. But, then, my conduct is so inconsistent with my profession, I don't wonder you reprove me."

"O, now, cousin," said Augustine, sitting down on the floor, and laying his head back in her lap, "don't take on so awfully serious! You know what a good-for-nothing, saucy boy I always was. I love to poke you up,--that's all,--just to see you get earnest. I do think you are desperately, distressingly good; it tires me to death to think of it."

"But this is a serious subject, my boy, Auguste," said Miss Ophelia, laying her hand on his forehead.

"Dismally so," said he; "and I--well, I never want to talk seriously in hot weather. What with mosquitos and all, a fellow can't get himself up to any very sublime moral flights; and I believe," said St. Clare, suddenly rousing himself up, "there's a theory, now! I understand now why northern nations are always more virtuous than southern ones,--I see into that whole subject."

"O, Augustine, you are a sad rattle-brain!"

"Am I? Well, so I am, I suppose; but for once I will be serious, now; but you must hand me that basket of oranges;--you see, you'll have to 'stay me with flagons and comfort me with apples,' if I'm going to make this effort. Now," said Augustine, drawing the basket up, "I'll begin: When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for a fellow to hold two or three dozen of his fellow-worms in captivity, a decent regard to the opinions of society requires--"

"I don't see that you are growing more serious," said Miss Ophelia.

"Wait,--I'm coming on,--you'll hear. The short of the matter is, cousin," said he, his handsome face suddenly settling into an earnest and serious expression, "on this abstract question of slavery there can, as I think, be but one opinion. Planters, who have money to make by it,--clergymen, who have planters to please,--politicians, who want to rule by it,--may warp and bend language and ethics to a degree that shall astonish the world at their ingenuity; they can press nature and the Bible, and nobody knows what else, into the service; but, after all, neither they nor the world believe in it one particle the more. It comes from the devil, that's the short of it;--and, to my mind, it's a pretty respectable specimen of what he can do in his own line."

Miss Ophelia stopped her knitting, and looked surprised, and St. Clare, apparently enjoying her astonishment, went on.

"You seem to wonder; but if you will get me fairly at it, I'll make a clean breast of it. This cursed business, accursed of God and man, what is it? Strip it of all its ornament, run it down to the root and nucleus of the whole, and what is it? Why, because my brother Quashy is ignorant and weak, and I am intelligent and strong,--because I know how, and _can_ do it,--therefore, I may steal all he has, keep it, and give him only such and so much as suits my fancy. Whatever is too hard, too dirty, too disagreeable, for me, I may set Quashy to doing. Because I don't like work, Quashy shall work. Because the sun burns me, Quashy shall stay in the sun. Quashy shall earn the money, and I will spend it. Quashy shall lie down in every puddle, that I may walk over dry-shod. Quashy shall do my will, and not his, all the days of his mortal life, and have such chance of getting to heaven, at last, as I find convenient. This I take to be about what slavery _is_. I defy anybody on earth to read our slave-code, as it stands in our law-books, and make anything else of it. Talk of the _abuses_ of slavery! Humbug! The _thing itself_ is the essence of all abuse! And the only reason why the land don't sink under it, like Sodom and Gomorrah, is because it is _used_ in a way infinitely better than it is. For pity's sake, for shame's sake, because we are men born of women, and not savage beasts, many of us do not, and dare not,--we would _scorn_ to use the full power which our savage laws put into our hands. And he who goes the furthest, and does the worst, only uses within limits the power that the law gives him."

St. Clare had started up, and, as his manner was when excited, was walking, with hurried steps, up and down the floor. His fine face, classic as that of a Greek statue, seemed actually to burn with the fervor of his feelings. His large blue eyes flashed, and he gestured with an unconscious eagerness. Miss Ophelia had never seen him in this mood before, and she sat perfectly silent.

"I declare to you," said he, suddenly stopping before his cousin "(It's no sort of use to talk or to feel on this subject), but I declare to you, there have been times when I have thought, if the whole country would sink, and hide all this injustice and misery from the light, I would willingly sink with it. When I have been travelling up and down on our boats, or about on my collecting tours, and reflected that every brutal, disgusting, mean, low-lived fellow I met, was allowed by our laws to become absolute despot of as many men, women and children, as he could cheat, steal, or gamble money enough to buy,--when I have seen such men in actual ownership of helpless children, of young girls and women,--I have been ready to curse my country, to curse the human race!"

"Augustine! Augustine!" said Miss Ophelia, "I'm sure you've said enough. I never, in my life, heard anything like this, even at the North."

"At the North!" said St. Clare, with a sudden change of expression, and resuming something of his habitual careless tone. "Pooh! your northern folks are cold-blooded; you are cool in everything! You can't begin to curse up hill and down as we can, when we get fairly at it."

"Well, but the question is," said Miss Ophelia.

"O, yes, to be sure, the _question is_,--and a deuce of a question it is! How came _you_ in this state of sin and misery? Well, I shall answer in the good old words you used to teach me, Sundays. I came so by ordinary generation. My servants were my father's, and, what is more, my mother's; and now they are mine, they and their increase, which bids fair to be a pretty considerable item. My father, you know, came first from New England; and he was just such another man as your father,--a regular old Roman,--upright, energetic, noble-minded, with an iron will. Your father settled down in New England, to rule over rocks and stones, and to force an existence out of Nature; and mine settled in Louisiana, to rule over men and women, and force existence out of them. My mother," said St. Clare, getting up and walking to a picture at the end of the room, and gazing upward with a face fervent with veneration, "_she was divine!_ Don't look at me so!--you know what I mean! She probably was of mortal birth; but, as far as ever I could observe, there was no trace of any human weakness or error about her; and everybody that lives to remember her, whether bond or free, servant, acquaintance, relation, all say the same. Why, cousin, that mother has been all that has stood between me and utter unbelief for years. She was a direct embodiment and personification of the New Testament,--a living fact, to be accounted for, and to be accounted for in no other way than by its truth. O, mother! mother!" said St. Clare, clasping his hands, in a sort of transport; and then suddenly checking himself, he came back, and seating himself on an ottoman, he went on:

"My brother and I were twins; and they say, you know, that twins ought to resemble each other; but we were in all points a contrast. He had black, fiery eyes, coal-black hair, a strong, fine Roman profile, and a rich brown complexion. I had blue eyes, golden hair, a Greek outline, and fair complexion. He was active and observing, I dreamy and inactive. He was generous to his friends and equals, but proud, dominant, overbearing, to inferiors, and utterly unmerciful to whatever set itself up against him. Truthful we both were; he from pride and courage, I from a sort of abstract ideality. We loved each other about as boys generally do,--off and on, and in general;--he was my father's pet, and I my mother's.

"There was a morbid sensitiveness and acuteness of feeling in me on all possible subjects, of which he and my father had no kind of understanding, and with which they could have no possible sympathy. But mother did; and so, when I had quarreled with Alfred, and father looked sternly on me, I used to go off to mother's room, and sit by her. I remember just how she used to look, with her pale cheeks, her deep, soft, serious eyes, her white dress,--she always wore white; and I used to think of her whenever I read in Revelations about the saints that were arrayed in fine linen, clean and white. She had a great deal of genius of one sort and another, particularly in music; and she used to sit at her organ, playing fine old majestic music of the Catholic church, and singing with a voice more like an angel than a mortal woman; and I would lay my head down on her lap, and cry, and dream, and feel,--oh, immeasurably!--things that I had no language to say!

"In those days, this matter of slavery had never been canvassed as it has now; nobody dreamed of any harm in it.

"My father was a born aristocrat. I think, in some preexistent state, he must have been in the higher circles of spirits, and brought all his old court pride along with him; for it was ingrain, bred in the bone, though he was originally of poor and not in any way of noble family. My brother was begotten in his image.

"Now, an aristocrat, you know, the world over, has no human sympathies, beyond a certain line in society. In England the line is in one place, in Burmah in another, and in America in another; but the aristocrat of all these countries never goes over it. What would be hardship and distress and injustice in his own class, is a cool matter of course in another one. My father's dividing line was that of color. _Among his equals_, never was a man more just and generous; but he considered the negro, through all possible gradations of color, as an intermediate link between man and animals, and graded all his ideas of justice or generosity on this hypothesis. I suppose, to be sure, if anybody had asked him, plump and fair, whether they had human immortal souls, he might have hemmed and hawed, and said yes. But my father was not a man much troubled with spiritualism; religious sentiment he had none, beyond a veneration for God, as decidedly the head of the upper classes.

"Well, my father worked some five hundred negroes; he was an inflexible, driving, punctilious business man; everything was to move by system,--to be sustained with unfailing accuracy and precision. Now, if you take into account that all this was to be worked out by a set of lazy, twaddling, shiftless laborers, who had grown up, all their lives, in the absence of every possible motive to learn how to do anything but 'shirk,' as you Vermonters say, and you'll see that there might naturally be, on his plantation, a great many things that looked horrible and distressing to a sensitive child, like me.

"Besides all, he had an overseer,--great, tall, slab-sided, two-fisted renegade son of Vermont--(begging your pardon),--who had gone through a regular apprenticeship in hardness and brutality and taken his degree to be admitted to practice. My mother never could endure him, nor I; but he obtained an entire ascendency over my father; and this man was the absolute despot of the estate.

"I was a little fellow then, but I had the same love that I have now for all kinds of human things,--a kind of passion for the study of humanity, come in what shape it would. I was found in the cabins and among the field-hands a great deal, and, of course, was a great favorite; and all sorts of complaints and grievances were breathed in my ear; and I told them to mother, and we, between us, formed a sort of committee for a redress of grievances. We hindered and repressed a great deal of cruelty, and congratulated ourselves on doing a vast deal of good, till, as often happens, my zeal overacted. Stubbs complained to my father that he couldn't manage the hands, and must resign his position. Father was a fond, indulgent husband, but a man that never flinched from anything that he thought necessary; and so he put down his foot, like a rock, between us and the field-hands. He told my mother, in language perfectly respectful and deferential, but quite explicit, that over the house-servants she should be entire mistress, but that with the field-hands he could allow no interference. He revered and respected her above all living beings; but he would have said it all the same to the virgin Mary herself, if she had come in the way of his system.

"I used sometimes to hear my mother reasoning cases with him,--endeavoring to excite his sympathies. He would listen to the most pathetic appeals with the most discouraging politeness and equanimity. 'It all resolves itself into this,' he would say; 'must I part with Stubbs, or keep him? Stubbs is the soul of punctuality, honesty, and efficiency,--a thorough business hand, and as humane as the general run. We can't have perfection; and if I keep him, I must sustain his administration as a _whole_, even if there are, now and then, things that are exceptionable. All government includes some necessary hardness. General rules will bear hard on particular cases.' This last maxim my father seemed to consider a settler in most alleged cases of cruelty. After he had said _that_, he commonly drew up his feet on the sofa, like a man that has disposed of a business, and betook himself to a nap, or the newspaper, as the case might be.

"The fact is my father showed the exact sort of talent for a statesman. He could have divided Poland as easily as an orange, or trod on Ireland as quietly and systematically as any man living. At last my mother gave up, in despair. It never will be known, till the last account, what noble and sensitive natures like hers have felt, cast, utterly helpless, into what seems to them an abyss of injustice and cruelty, and which seems so to nobody about them. It has been an age of long sorrow of such natures, in such a hell-begotten sort of world as ours. What remained for her, but to train her children in her own views and sentiments? Well, after all you say about training, children will grow up substantially what they _are_ by nature, and only that. From the cradle, Alfred was an aristocrat; and as he grew up, instinctively, all his sympathies and all his reasonings were in that line, and all mother's exhortations went to the winds. As to me, they sunk deep into me. She never contradicted, in form, anything my father said, or seemed directly to differ from him; but she impressed, burnt into my very soul, with all the force of her deep, earnest nature, an idea of the dignity and worth of the meanest human soul. I have looked in her face with solemn awe, when she would point up to the stars in the evening, and say to me, 'See there, Auguste! the poorest, meanest soul on our place will be living, when all these stars are gone forever,--will live as long as God lives!'

"She had some fine old paintings; one, in particular, of Jesus healing a blind man. They were very fine, and used to impress me strongly. 'See there, Auguste,' she would say; 'the blind man was a beggar, poor and loathsome; therefore, he would not heal him _afar off!_ He called him to him, and put _his hands on him!_ Remember this, my boy.' If I had lived to grow up under her care, she might have stimulated me to I know not what of enthusiasm. I might have been a saint, reformer, martyr,--but, alas! alas! I went from her when I was only thirteen, and I never saw her again!"

St. Clare rested his head on his hands, and did not speak for some minutes. After a while, he looked up, and went on:

"What poor, mean trash this whole business of human virtue is! A mere matter, for the most part, of latitude and longitude, and geographical position, acting with natural temperament. The greater part is nothing but an accident! Your father, for example, settles in Vermont, in a town where all are, in fact, free and equal; becomes a regular church member and deacon, and in due time joins an Abolition society, and thinks us all little better than heathens. Yet he is, for all the world, in constitution and habit, a duplicate of my father. I can see it leaking out in fifty different ways,--just the same strong, overbearing, dominant spirit. You know very well how impossible it is to persuade some of the folks in your village that Squire Sinclair does not feel above them. The fact is, though he has fallen on democratic times, and embraced a democratic theory, he is to the heart an aristocrat, as much as my father, who ruled over five or six hundred slaves."

Miss Ophelia felt rather disposed to cavil at this picture, and was laying down her knitting to begin, but St. Clare stopped her.

"Now, I know every word you are going to say. I do not say they _were_ alike, in fact. One fell into a condition where everything acted against the natural tendency, and the other where everything acted for it; and so one turned out a pretty wilful, stout, overbearing old democrat, and the other a wilful, stout old despot. If both had owned plantations in Louisiana, they would have been as like as two old bullets cast in the same mould."

"What an undutiful boy you are!" said Miss Ophelia.

"I don't mean them any disrespect," said St. Clare. "You know reverence is not my forte. But, to go back to my history:

"When father died, he left the whole property to us twin boys, to be divided as we should agree. There does not breathe on God's earth a nobler-souled, more generous fellow, than Alfred, in all that concerns his equals; and we got on admirably with this property question, without a single unbrotherly word or feeling. We undertook to work the plantation together; and Alfred, whose outward life and capabilities had double the strength of mine, became an enthusiastic planter, and a wonderfully successful one.

"But two years' trial satisfied me that I could not be a partner in that matter. To have a great gang of seven hundred, whom I could not know personally, or feel any individual interest in, bought and driven, housed, fed, worked like so many horned cattle, strained up to military precision,--the question of how little of life's commonest enjoyments would keep them in working order being a constantly recurring problem,--the necessity of drivers and overseers,--the ever-necessary whip, first, last, and only argument,--the whole thing was insufferably disgusting and loathsome to me; and when I thought of my mother's estimate of one poor human soul, it became even frightful!

"It's all nonsense to talk to me about slaves _enjoying_ all this! To this day, I have no patience with the unutterable trash that some of your patronizing Northerners have made up, as in their zeal to apologize for our sins. We all know better. Tell me that any man living wants to work all his days, from day-dawn till dark, under the constant eye of a master, without the power of putting forth one irresponsible volition, on the same dreary, monotonous, unchanging toil, and all for two pairs of pantaloons and a pair of shoes a year, with enough food and shelter to keep him in working order! Any man who thinks that human beings can, as a general thing, be made about as comfortable that way as any other, I wish he might try it. I'd buy the dog, and work him, with a clear conscience!"

"I always have supposed," said Miss Ophelia, "that you, all of you, approved of these things, and thought them _right_--according to Scripture."

"Humbug! We are not quite reduced to that yet. Alfred who is as determined a despot as ever walked, does not pretend to this kind of defence;--no, he stands, high and haughty, on that good old respectable ground, _the right of the strongest_; and he says, and I think quite sensibly, that the American planter is 'only doing, in another form, what the English aristocracy and capitalists are doing by the lower classes;' that is, I take it, _appropriating_ them, body and bone, soul and spirit, to their use and convenience. He defends both,--and I think, at least, _consistently_. He says that there can be no high civilization without enslavement of the masses, either nominal or real. There must, he says, be a lower class, given up to physical toil and confined to an animal nature; and a higher one thereby acquires leisure and wealth for a more expanded intelligence and improvement, and becomes the directing soul of the lower. So he reasons, because, as I said, he is born an aristocrat;--so I don't believe, because I was born a democrat."

"How in the world can the two things be compared?" said Miss Ophelia. "The English laborer is not sold, traded, parted from his family, whipped."

"He is as much at the will of his employer as if he were sold to him. The slave-owner can whip his refractory slave to death,--the capitalist can starve him to death. As to family security, it is hard to say which is the worst,--to have one's children sold, or see them starve to death at home."

"But it's no kind of apology for slavery, to prove that it isn't worse than some other bad thing."

"I didn't give it for one,--nay, I'll say, besides, that ours is the more bold and palpable infringement of human rights; actually buying a man up, like a horse,--looking at his teeth, cracking his joints, and trying his paces and then paying down for him,--having speculators, breeders, traders, and brokers in human bodies and souls,--sets the thing before the eyes of the civilized world in a more tangible form, though the thing done be, after all, in its nature, the same; that is, appropriating one set of human beings to the use and improvement of another without any regard to their own."

"I never thought of the matter in this light," said Miss Ophelia.

"Well, I've travelled in England some, and I've looked over a good many documents as to the state of their lower classes; and I really think there is no denying Alfred, when he says that his slaves are better off than a large class of the population of England. You see, you must not infer, from what I have told you, that Alfred is what is called a hard master; for he isn't. He is despotic, and unmerciful to insubordination; he would shoot a fellow down with as little remorse as he would shoot a buck, if he opposed him. But, in general, he takes a sort of pride in having his slaves comfortably fed and accommodated.

"When I was with him, I insisted that he should do something for their instruction; and, to please me, he did get a chaplain, and used to have them catechized Sunday, though, I believe, in his heart, that he thought it would do about as much good to set a chaplain over his dogs and horses. And the fact is, that a mind stupefied and animalized by every bad influence from the hour of birth, spending the whole of every week-day in unreflecting toil, cannot be done much with by a few hours on Sunday. The teachers of Sunday-schools among the manufacturing population of England, and among plantation-hands in our country, could perhaps testify to the same result, _there and here_. Yet some striking exceptions there are among us, from the fact that the negro is naturally more impressible to religious sentiment than the white."

"Well," said Miss Ophelia, "how came you to give up your plantation life?"

"Well, we jogged on together some time, till Alfred saw plainly that I was no planter. He thought it absurd, after he had reformed, and altered, and improved everywhere, to suit my notions, that I still remained unsatisfied. The fact was, it was, after all, the THING that I hated--the using these men and women, the perpetuation of all this ignorance, brutality and vice,--just to make money for me!

"Besides, I was always interfering in the details. Being myself one of the laziest of mortals, I had altogether too much fellow-feeling for the lazy; and when poor, shiftless dogs put stones at the bottom of their cotton-baskets to make them weigh heavier, or filled their sacks with dirt, with cotton at the top, it seemed so exactly like what I should do if I were they, I couldn't and wouldn't have them flogged for it. Well, of course, there was an end of plantation discipline; and Alf and I came to about the same point that I and my respected father did, years before. So he told me that I was a womanish sentimentalist, and would never do for business life; and advised me to take the bank-stock and the New Orleans family mansion, and go to writing poetry, and let him manage the plantation. So we parted, and I came here."

"But why didn't you free your slaves?"

"Well, I wasn't up to that. To hold them as tools for money-making, I could not;--have them to help spend money, you know, didn't look quite so ugly to me. Some of them were old house-servants, to whom I was much attached; and the younger ones were children to the old. All were well satisfied to be as they were." He paused, and walked reflectively up and down the room.

"There was," said St. Clare, "a time in my life when I had plans and hopes of doing something in this world, more than to float and drift. I had vague, indistinct yearnings to be a sort of emancipator,--to free my native land from this spot and stain. All young men have had such fever-fits, I suppose, some time,--but then--"

"Why didn't you?" said Miss Ophelia;--"you ought not to put your hand to the plough, and look back."

"O, well, things didn't go with me as I expected, and I got the despair of living that Solomon did. I suppose it was a necessary incident to wisdom in us both; but, some how or other, instead of being actor and regenerator in society, I became a piece of driftwood, and have been floating and eddying about, ever since. Alfred scolds me, every time we meet; and he has the better of me, I grant,--for he really does something; his life is a logical result of his opinions and mine is a contemptible _non sequitur_."

"My dear cousin, can you be satisfied with such a way of spending your probation?"

"Satisfied! Was I not just telling you I despised it? But, then, to come back to this point,--we were on this liberation business. I don't think my feelings about slavery are peculiar. I find many men who, in their hearts, think of it just as I do. The land groans under it; and, bad as it is for the slave, it is worse, if anything, for the master. It takes no spectacles to see that a great class of vicious, improvident, degraded people, among us, are an evil to us, as well as to themselves. The capitalist and aristocrat of England cannot feel that as we do, because they do not mingle with the class they degrade as we do. They are in our homes; they are the associates of our children, and they form their minds faster than we can; for they are a race that children always will cling to and assimilate with. If Eva, now, was not more angel than ordinary, she would be ruined. We might as well allow the small-pox to run among them, and think our children would not take it, as to let them be uninstructed and vicious, and think our children will not be affected by that. Yet our laws positively and utterly forbid any efficient general educational system, and they do it wisely, too; for, just begin and thoroughly educate one generation, and the whole thing would be blown sky high. If we did not give them liberty, they would take it."

"And what do you think will be the end of this?" said Miss Ophelia.

"I don't know. One thing is certain,--that there is a mustering among the masses, the world over; and there is a _dies irae_ coming on, sooner or later. The same thing is working in Europe, in England, and in this country. My mother used to tell me of a millennium that was coming, when Christ should reign, and all men should be free and happy. And she taught me, when I was a boy, to pray, 'thy kingdom come.' Sometimes I think all this sighing, and groaning, and stirring among the dry bones foretells what she used to tell me was coming. But who may abide the day of His appearing?"

"Augustine, sometimes I think you are not far from the kingdom," said Miss Ophelia, laying down her knitting, and looking anxiously at her cousin.

"Thank you for your good opinion, but it's up and down with me,--up to heaven's gate in theory, down in earth's dust in practice. But there's the teabell,--do let's go,--and don't say, now, I haven't had one downright serious talk, for once in my life."

At table, Marie alluded to the incident of Prue. "I suppose you'll think, cousin," she said, "that we are all barbarians."

"I think that's a barbarous thing," said Miss Ophelia, "but I don't think you are all barbarians."

"Well, now," said Marie, "I know it's impossible to get along with some of these creatures. They are so bad they ought not to live. I don't feel a particle of sympathy for such cases. If they'd only behave themselves, it would not happen."

"But, mamma," said Eva, "the poor creature was unhappy; that's what made her drink."

"O, fiddlestick! as if that were any excuse! I'm unhappy, very often. I presume," she said, pensively, "that I've had greater trials than ever she had. It's just because they are so bad. There's some of them that you cannot break in by any kind of severity. I remember father had a man that was so lazy he would run away just to get rid of work, and lie round in the swamps, stealing and doing all sorts of horrid things. That man was caught and whipped, time and again, and it never did him any good; and the last time he crawled off, though he couldn't but just go, and died in the swamp. There was no sort of reason for it, for father's hands were always treated kindly."

"I broke a fellow in, once," said St. Clare, "that all the overseers and masters had tried their hands on in vain."

"You!" said Marie; "well, I'd be glad to know when _you_ ever did anything of the sort."

"Well, he was a powerful, gigantic fellow,--a native-born African; and he appeared to have the rude instinct of freedom in him to an uncommon degree. He was a regular African lion. They called him Scipio. Nobody could do anything with him; and he was sold round from overseer to overseer, till at last Alfred bought him, because he thought he could manage him. Well, one day he knocked down the overseer, and was fairly off into the swamps. I was on a visit to Alf's plantation, for it was after we had dissolved partnership. Alfred was greatly exasperated; but I told him that it was his own fault, and laid him any wager that I could break the man; and finally it was agreed that, if I caught him, I should have him to experiment on. So they mustered out a party of some six or seven, with guns and dogs, for the hunt. People, you know, can get up as much enthusiasm in hunting a man as a deer, if it is only customary; in fact, I got a little excited myself, though I had only put in as a sort of mediator, in case he was caught.

"Well, the dogs bayed and howled, and we rode and scampered, and finally we started him. He ran and bounded like a buck, and kept us well in the rear for some time; but at last he got caught in an impenetrable thicket of cane; then he turned to bay, and I tell you he fought the dogs right gallantly. He dashed them to right and left, and actually killed three of them with only his naked fists, when a shot from a gun brought him down, and he fell, wounded and bleeding, almost at my feet. The poor fellow looked up at me with manhood and despair both in his eye. I kept back the dogs and the party, as they came pressing up, and claimed him as my prisoner. It was all I could do to keep them from shooting him, in the flush of success; but I persisted in my bargain, and Alfred sold him to me. Well, I took him in hand, and in one fortnight I had him tamed down as submissive and tractable as heart could desire."

"What in the world did you do to him?" said Marie.

"Well, it was quite a simple process. I took him to my own room, had a good bed made for him, dressed his wounds, and tended him myself, until he got fairly on his feet again. And, in process of time, I had free papers made out for him, and told him he might go where he liked."

"And did he go?" said Miss Ophelia.

"No. The foolish fellow tore the paper in two, and absolutely refused to leave me. I never had a braver, better fellow,--trusty and true as steel. He embraced Christianity afterwards, and became as gentle as a child. He used to oversee my place on the lake, and did it capitally, too. I lost him the first cholera season. In fact, he laid down his life for me. For I was sick, almost to death; and when, through the panic, everybody else fled, Scipio worked for me like a giant, and actually brought me back into life again. But, poor fellow! he was taken, right after, and there was no saving him. I never felt anybody's loss more."

Eva had come gradually nearer and nearer to her father, as he told the story,--her small lips apart, her eyes wide and earnest with absorbing interest.

As he finished, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, burst into tears, and sobbed convulsively.

"Eva, dear child! what is the matter?" said St. Clare, as the child's small frame trembled and shook with the violence of her feelings. "This child," he added, "ought not to hear any of this kind of thing,--she's nervous."

"No, papa, I'm not nervous," said Eva, controlling herself, suddenly, with a strength of resolution singular in such a child. "I'm not nervous, but these things _sink into my heart_."

"What do you mean, Eva?"

"I can't tell you, papa, I think a great many thoughts. Perhaps some day I shall tell you."

"Well, think away, dear,--only don't cry and worry your papa," said St. Clare, "Look here,--see what a beautiful peach I have got for you."

Eva took it and smiled, though there was still a nervous twiching about the corners of her mouth.

"Come, look at the gold-fish," said St. Clare, taking her hand and stepping on to the verandah. A few moments, and merry laughs were heard through the silken curtains, as Eva and St. Clare were pelting each other with roses, and chasing each other among the alleys of the court.

There is danger that our humble friend Tom be neglected amid the adventures of the higher born; but, if our readers will accompany us up to a little loft over the stable, they may, perhaps, learn a little of his affairs. It was a decent room, containing a bed, a chair, and a small, rough stand, where lay Tom's Bible and hymn-book; and where he sits, at present, with his slate before him, intent on something that seems to cost him a great deal of anxious thought.

The fact was, that Tom's home-yearnings had become so strong that he had begged a sheet of writing-paper of Eva, and, mustering up all his small stock of literary attainment acquired by Mas'r George's instructions, he conceived the bold idea of writing a letter; and he was busy now, on his slate, getting out his first draft. Tom was in a good deal of trouble, for the forms of some of the letters he had forgotten entirely; and of what he did remember, he did not know exactly which to use. And while he was working, and breathing very hard, in his earnestness, Eva alighted, like a bird, on the round of his chair behind him, and peeped over his shoulder.

"O, Uncle Tom! what funny things you _are_ making, there!"

"I'm trying to write to my poor old woman, Miss Eva, and my little chil'en," said Tom, drawing the back of his hand over his eyes; "but, some how, I'm feard I shan't make it out."

"I wish I could help you, Tom! I've learnt to write some. Last year I could make all the letters, but I'm afraid I've forgotten."

So Eva put her golden head close to his, and the two commenced a grave and anxious discussion, each one equally earnest, and about equally ignorant; and, with a deal of consulting and advising over every word, the composition began, as they both felt very sanguine, to look quite like writing.

"Yes, Uncle Tom, it really begins to look beautiful," said Eva, gazing delightedly on it. "How pleased your wife'll be, and the poor little children! O, it's a shame you ever had to go away from them! I mean to ask papa to let you go back, some time."

"Missis said that she would send down money for me, as soon as they could get it together," said Tom. "I'm 'spectin, she will. Young Mas'r George, he said he'd come for me; and he gave me this yer dollar as a sign;" and Tom drew from under his clothes the precious dollar.

"O, he'll certainly come, then!" said Eva. "I'm so glad!"

"And I wanted to send a letter, you know, to let 'em know whar I was, and tell poor Chloe that I was well off,--cause she felt so drefful, poor soul!"

"I say Tom!" said St. Clare's voice, coming in the door at this moment.

Tom and Eva both started.

"What's here?" said St. Clare, coming up and looking at the slate.

"O, it's Tom's letter. I'm helping him to write it," said Eva; "isn't it nice?"

"I wouldn't discourage either of you," said St. Clare, "but I rather think, Tom, you'd better get me to write your letter for you. I'll do it, when I come home from my ride."

"It's very important he should write," said Eva, "because his mistress is going to send down money to redeem him, you know, papa; he told me they told him so."

St. Clare thought, in his heart, that this was probably only one of those things which good-natured owners say to their servants, to alleviate their horror of being sold, without any intention of fulfilling the expectation thus excited. But he did not make any audible comment upon it,--only ordered Tom to get the horses out for a ride.

Tom's letter was written in due form for him that evening, and safely lodged in the post-office.

Miss Ophelia still persevered in her labors in the housekeeping line. It was universally agreed, among all the household, from Dinah down to the youngest urchin, that Miss Ophelia was decidedly "curis,"--a term by which a southern servant implies that his or her betters don't exactly suit them.

The higher circle in the family--to wit, Adolph, Jane and Rosa--agreed that she was no lady; ladies never keep working about as she did,--that she had no _air_ at all; and they were surprised that she should be any relation of the St. Clares. Even Marie declared that it was absolutely fatiguing to see Cousin Ophelia always so busy. And, in fact, Miss Ophelia's industry was so incessant as to lay some foundation for the complaint. She sewed and stitched away, from daylight till dark, with the energy of one who is pressed on by some immediate urgency; and then, when the light faded, and the work was folded away, with one turn out came the ever-ready knitting-work, and there she was again, going on as briskly as ever. It really was a labor to see her.


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Grain News

Old Time Elevator 2014 Calendar Now Available

Date Posted: October 8, 2013

Since 2002, the grain elevator photography of Bruce Selyem, familiar to Grain Journal readers through the “Old Time Elevator” feature that appears in each issue, has been the focus of the North American Grain Elevators calendar. Now, the 2014 edition – the 13th year of the calendar—is available.

Selyem and his wife, Barbara, who writes the “Old Time Elevator” feature in Grain Journal, began selling the grain elevator calendars in 2002, and it has sold out every year.

The calendar covers the last six months of 2013 and all of 2014. It features 13 of Selyem’s full-color images of historical grain elevators throughout the United States and Canada collected since 1990.

The photos measure 12 inches by 12 inches.

Hanging, the calendar is 12 inches wide by 24 inches tall, with plenty of space for marking appointments and reminders.

How to Get It

North American Grain Elevators is available for $14.99 plus shipping and handling from Selyem Enterprises, Bozeman, MT.

To order, call 406-388-9282 or e-mail bselyem@ grainelevatorphotos.com.

The Selyems also sell individual prints. You can view them at www.grainelevatorphotos.com. j

more GRAIN NEWS...


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Winter knee surgery for Perez

Sergio Perez underwent knee surgery during the winter period, he has revealed.

The Mexican admitted that his switch from F1 grandee McLaren to the midfield team Force India was not the only major event in his life since the end of the 2013 season.

"I had a knee operation, from which I have fully recovered," said the 23-year-old, who will be paired this year with the highly rated Nico Hulkenberg.

"Since then, I have been doing some really good work with my trainers, back home. They came over to Mexico and we did both rehabilitation and a lot of physical work to get fully fit for the first day of testing," added Perez.

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Campbells `Bobbie Burns` Shiraz 2008 (12 x 750mL), Rutherglen, VIC.

Liquor Act 2007: It is against the law to sell or supply alcohol to, or to obtain alcohol on behalf of, a person under the age of 18 years. Liquor licence LIQP770010049
$18.99 per Bottle
$227.88 per case
This item is sold out

To view similar items click here.

A Campbells and Rutherglen icon – showing the true power of the Rutherglen shiraz fruit with the tannin structure for longevity. For almost forty years our Bobbie Burns Shiraz has enjoyed a reputation for being of consistently high quality. Our 2008 vintage is a fine example of the style we are seeking.

VIC - Other Victorian

Expert Reviews

Bright, clear red-purple; an elegant wine, a far cry from the 16% alcohol Bobbie Burns wines of bygone days; has a mix of supple, perfectly ripe, plum (mainly) and blackberry fruit, oak and tannins both balanced and integrated.Drink to 2023. Rating 93 - James Halliday, Australian Wine Companion Edition 2011

The 39th successive vintage of this classic Rutherglen red is an absolute cracker, a genuine Goldilocks wine with just enough but neither too much or too little of everything. Just right!Paddy Kendler (JUN/2010)

Rutherglen is rightly renowned for its world famous fortifieds - port, tokay and muscat - which are world leaders. But through all this, this unpretentious shiraz has managed to pick up iconic status for consistently good drinking, year in, year out. This has a core of earthy black cherry flavours and some cedary oak notes. It's big, generous and mouth-filling. Super value. Rick Allen (JUN/2010)

Giving a very deep garnet-purple color, the 2008 Bobbie Burns Shiraz provides aromas of warm plums, baked blackberry, cinnamon, cloves and a whiff of thyme. The palate is packed with juicy plum and berry fruit flavors complemented by soft tannins and high refreshing acidity, finishing long. Drinking perfectly now, this wine should keep through 2015. Rating 86 - Lisa Prrotti-Brown, Wine Advocate#189 (JUN/2010)

Winery Tasting Notes

Dark crimson.

A classical Bobbie Burns Shiraz with scented raspberry and black cherry fruit to the fore. Subtle bramble, earth and cedarwood characters linger in the background.

Complex and mouthfilling with a core of raspberry and black cherry fruit. Fine fruit tannins and subtle oak add structure through the middle, while regional notes of earth and ironstone on the finish point to the wine’s Rutherglen origins.

Cellaring Potential

Our intent with Bobbie Burns Shiraz is to create a wine that drinks well from release, but has the balance and structure to reward long term cellaring. Drink over the coming 8-10 years.

Food Matching

Slow cooked beef or lamb dishes.

Winemaking Notes

Shiraz from our “Bobbie Burns” vineyard in Rutherglen. After fermentation on skins for six to seven days using closed and rotary fermenters, the wine was subsequently aged for a period of 12 months in a mixture of new to three year old premium French and American oak.

VIC - Other Victorian
Grape Style
Shiraz / Syrah
Closure Type
Screwcap closure

Winery Profile

Brand Profile Image

Campbells winery and vineyards are situated in the historic Rutherglen Wine Region of North East Victoria.

Brothers Malcolm and Colin are the fourth generation to carry on the Campbell tradition started by their great grandfather John Campbell in Rutherglen in 1870. Together with their wives Jenny and Prue, they have forged a strong reputation for Campbells as a benchmark Rutherglen wine producer.

The brothers are an ideal team with Malcolm as viticulturist and Colin as winemaker. They have 160 acres of vineyard all within the historic Rutherglen Wine Region and are a true estate grown and bottled operation.

This means we have the ability to nurture our wines from vine to bottle. As Colin says, “Our wines are like our children, we bring them into this world and take great pride and joy in holding their hands and watching them grow”.

Malcolm's approach in the vineyard is quite simple, “Quality even at the expense of quantity is our aim. We assist nature, we don't seek to dominate her.”

Colin believes his role as winemaker is to maximize and protect the natural fruit flavours. His skill is in making wines with structure and balance that can confidently be aged; a hallmark of Campbells Wines.

Today the fifth generation of Campbells is adding their enthusiasm and skills. How excited would their great great grandfather John Campbell be to see this dedication to the Campbell name!

View Campbells website

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Small Sundays: Wampa

Posted: December 16th, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , | 2 Comments »

Wampa action figure (from the original The Empire Strikes Back toy line by Kenner)
Acquired: childhood

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2 Comments on “Small Sundays: Wampa”

  1. 1 rob! said at 7:40 am on December 19th, 2012:

    This is what Lucas sees when he looks at the original movies, which is why he can’t stop tinkering with them.

  2. 2 Maxo Romero said at 1:59 pm on January 6th, 2013:

    I’m actually glad he sold to Disney — they spin off everything, but at least they don’t keep goofing with something that’s already a classic.

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Old October 15th, 2008, 02:15 AM   #6
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would you take 40 where in kzoo are you i want them. call me 269-806-6165
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Old May 21st, 2006, 10:14 AM   #15
do i look old !
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Theres another reason i dont drink . If your drinking but sober , save your money next time :gman:
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Originally Posted by 95geo View Post
Ok, it makes a little more sense....

If you want an idea to go on, you could make new mounts for the cables tha mount them next to the case as opposed to under it. Then make new extensions for the rails that clear the yoke and d shaft and allow actuation from the new cable location. Make a new cross member that bolts in there but doesn't have bushings that far out and put a plate off the front side to mount a factory style bushing right where your bolts for the cross member and trans/t case mate now.

Minimal tear up but the hardest part would be redoing the shifter cable mounts while not giving up any feel on the actuation.

Red is the only area where the shifters could actually come past the case. I looked at coming from the front too but didn't want to deal with driveshaft/exhaust and looping the cables up around the trans. It'll probably stay like it is for now, I'll get to it later. Focus is moving it under it's own power right now.
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Rooms from 175€/night BOOK NOW

Rooms & Availability at Oceanis Beach & Spa Resort

Description of Oceanis Beach & Spa Resort

A variety of premium services are available for guests of the Oceanis Beach & Spa Resort, such as a concierge and a currency exchange. Helpful and professional staff are available 24 hours a day. There is a news stand, a convenience store and a shopping mall within the resort.

All the rooms at the Oceanis Beach & Spa Resort include a TV, a hair dryer and a private bathroom. An internet connection is also provided.

Guests can indulge in a beverage at the resort's on-site bar, after sampling a meal in the restaurant. The resort's comfortable restaurant serves breakfast. Room service is also offered during certain times.

The Oceanis Beach & Spa Resort includes free parking for guests with a vehicle. The Ancient Agora, the Asklepion and Tree of Hippocrates are around a 20-minute car ride from the resort.

Features at Oceanis Beach & Spa Resort

Room Service, Restaurant, Bar / Lounge, Air Conditioned, Mini Bar, Refrigerator, Cable / Satellite TV, Hair Dryer, TV, En suite, Private Bathroom, Poolside Bar, Coffee Shop/Cafeteria
Fitness Room/Gym, Swimming pool, Tour Desk, Massage / Beauty Centre, Tennis Courts, Sauna, Private beach, Excursions, Garden, Billiards, Volleyball, Jacuzzi, Massage, Spa & Wellness Centre, Child Pool, Pool Outdoor
Concierge, Elevator / Lift, 24-Hour Reception, Dry Cleaning, Currency Exchange, Multilingual Staff, News Stand, Laundry service, Bicycle Rental, Shops, Luggage Storage, Shops in Hotel, Souvenirs/Gift Shop
High-speed Internet is available at this hotel. Wireless internet on site.
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EnerDel Achieves USABC Phase I Targets with Li-Ion Battery

2 January 2007

EnerDel, the lithium-ion battery company of Ener1, has successfully achieved all United States Advanced Battery Consortium (USABC) Phase I targets such as power, volume and cold cranking with only half the weight. EnerDel is one of four companies with a li-ion battery project with USABC—the others are the Johnson Controls-Saft joint venture, CPI (the US subsidiary of LG Chemical), and A123Systems.

EnerDel made its initial delivery of sample battery cells under the Phase I earlier in December. EnerDel expects to deliver the next set of samples to the USABC during the next few months, as part of its continuing effort under its agreement with USABC.

This is compelling data which promises to bring significant benefit to our customers in terms of cost, safety, longevity and design flexibility. We have installed a production line at our facility capable of producing these electrodes for 5000 Hybrid Electric Vehicle (HEV) batteries per month. In parallel, we are working at NanoEner to develop new generation of electrodes capable of delivering high rate of discharge while reducing weight. We are well on our way to secure customer validation in 2007.

—Peter Novak, CEO and Charles Gassenheimer, Vice Chairman

USABC is a part of the United States Council for Automotive Research (USCAR), an organization founded by DaimlerChrysler, Ford and General Motors that works with the Department of Energy (DOE) on the cooperative development of advanced automotive technologies.

Earlier in December, EnerDel announced that it had worked with PrioVista Laboratories, Inc. to complete the installation of new furnace equipment that it will use to develop active battery electrode materials in-house. The high capacity furnace, which is located in EnerDel’s Indianapolis facility, can be used to make Lithium Titanate, Lithium Manganese, Lithium Nickel Oxide and other materials.

Although EnerDel will also work with outside material companies to support mass-production, access to the new furnace equipment will enhance EnerDel’s internal materials development capability and help EnerDel to accelerate its product development. The furnace was acquired from ITOCHU Corporation, a shareholder of both Ener1 and PrioVista.

Ener1, Inc. is an alternative energy technology company. The company’s interests include: 80.5% of EnerDel, a lithium battery company in which Delphi Corp. owns 19.5%; 41% of Enerstruct, a Japanese lithium battery technology company in which Ener1’s strategic investor ITOCHU owns 51%; wholly owned subsidiary EnerFuel, a fuel cell products and testing services company, and wholly owned subsidiary NanoEner, which develops nanotechnology-based materials and manufacturing processes for batteries and other applications.

EnerDel has also been notified of allowance of a US patent “Method for Cell Balancing for Lithium Battery” by the US Patent and Trademark Office. This patent will expand EnerDel’s patent portfolio in lithium batteries to 30 granted and 68 pending patents. The inventions covered by the new patent make it possible for the cells of a battery pack to be charged to specific and individual SOC (state-of-charge) levels that are unique and optimal to each individual cell, based upon data collected during the battery’s operation.

EnerDel’s invention also reduces the time required for charging and balancing of a multi-cell lithium chemistry battery system and reduces temperature peaks that can occur in conventional battery management systems during balancing.

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Detroit better exploit this to the fullest. With all the connections to US automakers, they would be foolish - unless something better comes along - to dawddle this opportunity away.

When you see who owns part of whom, the financing of keeping a company in the game becomes complex. If you are doing startup rounds of capital, you face the possibility that the next round will not be there. Taking a company out of development can be very costly to everyone.

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The Walking Dead Zombie Logo Men's White T-Shirt

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Get behind Daryl Dixon and his band of fellow survivors as you rock this awesome white Walking Dead tee! Featuring the lettering of the hit American zombie apocalypse show covered with the faces of a pack of grisly zombies, it is perfect for any Walking Dead addict! Officially licensed.

  • Product Type: Mens T-shirt
  • Product Code: 79283


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Surfing magazine’s stunning Swimsuit Issue has landed

swimsuit-issue-2013-opening-dayThe big problem with most swimsuit issues is this: the models can’t even swim. And what’s more, instead of creating a vital guide for women who are actually looking for guidance on what they should be wearing on the beach this summer, some tortured art director takes over the reins and makes it their vanity project, resulting in a bunch of heroin-chic twigs being thrown in all kinds of ridiculous poses (and wears). Fortunately, there’s Surfing magazine’s annual Swimsuit Issue, which is a celebration of everything that is the beach-going experience. Doubt me? Well then watch below, then go pick up a copy. Or purchase a digital issue by clicking here.
<embed src="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="300"></embed>

Swimsuit Issue 2013: Opening Day from SURFING Magazine on Vimeo.


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1 of 5

Skinny Striped Pencil Skirt

Seller: Ivory Bleu

$11.99 $34.99 66% Off 5 sold

Product Description

A classic striped pencil skirt is a must in any wardrobe this season. Pair it with floral top for Spring and mix your patterns perfectly.

Material: 85% Polyester 10 % Rayon 5% Spandex

Wash Info: Hand Wash Cold
Do Not Bleach Reshape after wash-Lay flat to dry

Small size: 2-4
Medium size fits most: 6-8
Large size fits most: 8-10
X-Large fits most: 10-12
Fit: Small- 21 inches in length Large- 22 inches in length
Has a slight stretch in length of the skirt but not in the waistband.

Ivory Bleu

This product is expected to ship by August 20th. $2.99 for the first item and $1.99 for each additional.

Return Policy

We understand that sometimes purchases just don't work out. If you are not 100% satisfied with your item please contact our customer service team at within 14 days of receiving your item. Please note we do not accept returns for swimsuits, undergarments, or personalized items.

Fine Print

This item is sold by Ivory Bleu and they are solely responsible to customers for the fulfillment, delivery, care, and quality of the advertised goods and services. U.S. shipments only. This product is new.


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How to make it

  • Bring cauliflower and stock to a quick boil.
  • Reduce heat to simmer and cook covered 10 minutes.
  • Remove cover, raise heat to medium high and allow the broth to reduce by half, 2 minutes.
  • Add 2 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces and the cheeses and smash the cauliflower with a masher to the same consistency as desired for mashed potatoes.
  • Season the cauliflower with black pepper, a pinch of salt.

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    " It was excellent "
    hollymayb ate it and said...
    This is a staple at our house!
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  • misahungry 8 years ago
    good thinkin' will have to try!
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    " It was excellent "
    jett2whit ate it and said...
    This is very good! We eat this with turkey meatloaf. We have also used the creamy boursin garlic cheese instead of cheddar cheese. Really tasty!
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How to make it

  • Char grill chicken & sausages. (Slice chicken before serving)
  • Cook pasta as packet directions
  • Place butter, milk & cream in a pan over low heat until butter is melted & well combined, remove from heat add parmesan cheese, salt & pepper stir until blended & smooth.
  • Drain pasta, toss with baby spinach leaves & chorizo sausage mix through creamy sauce.
  • Add tomato, Plate up pasta, top with sliced chicken, sprinkle with extra parmesan & parsley.

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    " It was excellent "
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    Delicious and easy. My family demolished it.
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How to make it

  • Place one tablespoon oil in a large dutch oven or soup pot.
  • Sprinkle chops with a small amount of salt and pepper and saute until browned and starting to get crispy.
  • Add the diced potatoes, salsa verde, Rotel, chipotle chilis, coffee, beef broth and lime juice.
  • Stir well and simmer approximately 30 minutes.
  • Potatoes should be tender.
  • Add corn and continue to simmer another 10 minutes.
  • Mix flour and water in a small jar or container with lid, shaking until well mixed.
  • Add one ladle or 1/4 cup of the broth to the jar and mix well.
  • Slowly stir this mixture back into the pot of stew, stirring constantly.
  • This will thicken the broth.
  • Simmer for 5 minutes.
  • Add cilantro at the end of cooking time and serve.
  • May garnish with more cilantro if desired.

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  • sosousme 8 years ago
    Just a thought, as I don't have "rotel" in my area, you might want to explain to everyone what that is...IMHO
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  • gingerlea 8 years ago
    Okay, trying this right now!!!!!!
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  • rosemaryblue 9 years ago
    This sounds very good! Love chipotles also!
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The Garden Community for Garden Lovers

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Essex, United Kingdom Gb

i have a area of grass which i wish to get rid of please your advice

Cut it into manageable pieces with a half moon edger or spade, push spade underneath the sections and lift off, like turf. Depending on what you want to do with the area, dig over before planting.

19 Apr, 2010

I'm sure Bamboo might have added, stack the turf in a corner of the garden and allow it to rot down, and you will have a source of good loam to use for potting or elsewhere in the garden.

19 Apr, 2010

Lol, Bertie, you're right, I did think about it, but my fingers were tired...

19 Apr, 2010

I agree with Bamboo - in fact I was doing just that over the weekend! (my lawn gets smaller every year lol)

19 Apr, 2010

How do I say thanks?

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32nd Annual Richmond Camping RV Expo

Show Info

February 10 - 12, 2017
Richmond Raceway Complex
600 East Laburnum Avenue
Richmond, VA 23222

Show Hours

Friday: 12:00 pm - 8:00 pm
Saturday: 10:00 am - 8:00 pm
Sunday: 11:00 am – 5:00 pm

Ticket Prices

Adults: $10
Kids 12 and under: FREE
Good Sam Club Members: $5*
*Maximum 2 tickets - Active Membership Card required. Offer not valid or combinable with any other discounts.

Not A Good Sam Club Member?
Purchase a 1-year membership for just
$27 & enjoy all the exciting Club benefits,
including 50% savings on up to
2 RV show tickets!

Date Night
Friday AFTER 5:00PM
Buy one adult ticket, get one FREE!
Must be purchased at the show. Cannot be combined with any other discounts.

Exhibitor Rates

Contact Dave Body at 804-337-6479 for rates.

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H955 FRP lock

I have LG H955 which have FRP lock. Phone turn on ( has normal imei and 5.1.1 version) and can read info with octopus but when i want to put into download mode , phone write secure booting error and restarted. It cant go into download mode! What can i do?