Epic of Beowulf Essay - Lindisfarne and Christian Influences in Beowulf :: Epic of Beowulf Essay

Lindisfarne and Christian Influences in Beowulf      Ã‚  Ã‚   The Beowulf manuscript, written around the year 1000 and containing approximately 70 Christian references/allusions, could owe part of its Christianization to the Catholic bishops, priests, monks and laity who made The Lindisfarne Gospels a reality about 300 years prior.    â€Å". . . the poem is the product of a great age, the age of Bede, an age which knew artistic achievements of the kind buried at Sutton Hoo, an age in which art and learning were united to produce great gospel books like the Lindisfarne Gospels, now in the British Museum,   . . . (Stanley 3). The Lindisfarne Gospels was written and artistically decorated about the year 700. About the middle of the tenth century a Catholic priest named Aldred, after translating The Lindisfarne Gospels from Latin into Anglo-Saxon, wrote on the last leaf of the manuscript a colophon naming the four Catholic religious responsible for making The Lindisfarne Gospels:    Eadfrith, Bishop of the Lindisfarne Church, originally wrote this book, for God and for Saint Cuthbert and – jointly – for all the saints whose relics are in the Island. And Ethelwald, Bishop of the Lindisfarne islanders, impressed it on the outside and adorned it with gold and with gems and also with gilded-over silver – pure metal. And Aldred, unworthy and most miserable priest, glossed it in English between the lines with the help of God and Saint Cuthbert†¦.(Backhouse 7).    Janet Backhouse in her book The Lindisfarne Gospels, says that these gospels were made in north-east England â€Å"less than a century after the introduction there of Christianity† (Backhouse 7). This statement is quesstionable. Consider that the conversion of Britain to Christianity began quite early. The Catholic priest Venerable Bede, born in Bernicia, Northumbria, around 673, states in Bk 1, Ch 4 of his Ecclesiastical History of the English People that while Eleutherius was Bishop of Rome (175-189AD), a king of Britain named Lucius requested of the Pope that the king be baptized a Catholic by papal decree:    In the year of our Lord 156 Marcus Antoninus Verus was made emperor together with his brother Aurelius Commodus. He was the fourteenth after Augustus. In their time, while a holy man called Eleutherius was bishop of the church at Rome, Lucius, a king of Britain, sent him a letter praying him that he might be made a

History of Table Tennis Essay

The sport got its start in England towards the end of the 19th century when, after dinner, some upper-middle class Victorians decided to turn their dining room tables into miniature versions of the traditional lawn tennis playing field. Several different every-day objects were employed in constructing the sport. They used a line of books as the net. Rackets were lids from empty cigar boxes, and a little later, parchment paper stretched around a frame. The ball would be either a ball of string, or perhaps more commonly, a champagne cork or rubber ball. Before â€Å"Table Tennis.† When the game first started it was called by a number of different names. â€Å"Whif whaf,† â€Å"gossamer,† and â€Å"flim flam† were commonly used to describe it. The words, as can be assumed, were derived from the sound that the ball made when hit back and forth on the table. In 1901 though, English manufacturer J. Jaques & Son Ltd registered one of the more popular names, Ping-Pong, as a copyright. He later sold the trademark to the Parker Brothers in the United States. Then in the 1920’s the name and the sport were revived in Europe as table tennis. Evolution The turn of the century brought many other refinements to the sport. Players started using celluloid balls after the English man James Gibb discovered them during a trip to the United States in 1901 and proved them to be perfect for Ping-Pong. In 1903, E.C Goode replaced parchment paper and cigar box lids with pimpled rubber on light wooden â€Å"blades† as rackets. And after the world championships in Prague in 1936, where two defensive players took over an hour to contest one point, the net was lowered to make the pace of the game-play faster. (In another effort to make the game more fast paced and entertaining, rules were again changed in 2001- see Rules). It Spreads Also around this time, the sport spread to other European countries and to the United States. Asian countries like China, Korea and Japan are understood to have learnt about it from British Army officers who held posts in those places. There was an unofficial world championship held in 1901, but the first official world championship was held in London in 1927 by the International Table Tennis Federation. The ITTF was founded in Berlin in 1926 by England, Sweden, Hungary, India, Denmark, Germany, Czechoslovakia, Austria, and Wales. Asian Factor Although it may seem today that the sport, in the professional realm, is dominated by Asian countries like China and Korea, it wasn’t always that way. Before the late 1950’s and early 60’s, European players from Hungary especially, but also from France and Sweden seemed without competition. But in 1952, Japanese player Horoi Satoh introduced the foam rubber paddle. The paddle made the game faster and spinning the ball became an even greater factor. Japan became the main winner in the world competitions in 1960, and by the mid 1960’s China took over the reigns through to the early 1980’s. Their absolute domination of the sport was finally subdued with the entering of table tennis into the Olympic Games in 1988 and the participation of players from Korea and Sweden. Table Tennis and the Cold War On April 6th, 1971, the US table tennis team was invited on an all-expenses-paid trip to play in China. Four days later, nine players, four officials and two spouses crossed the bridge from Hong Kong to the Chinese mainland. They were the first group of Americans to be allowed into the country since the communist take-over in 1949. One of the first signs during the Cold war of improved relations between the United States and China, Time magazine called it â€Å"the pong heard throughout the world.† It was shortly followed with a visit to China by President Nixon. Facilities and Equipment The Table The playing surface, should be rectangular, 2.74m long and 1.525m wide, and shall lie in a horizontal plane 76cm above the floor .The playing surface should not include the vertical sides of the tabletop. The playing surface should yield a uniform bounce of about 23cm when a standard ball is dropped on to it from a height of 30cm. The playing surface shall be uniformly dark colored and matt, but with a white side line, 2cm wide, along each 2.74m edge and a white end line, 2cm wide, along each 1.525m edge. The playing surface shall be divided into 2 equal courts by a vertical net running parallel with the end lines, and shall be continuous over the whole area of each court. For doubles, each court shall be divided into 2 equal half-courts by a white center line, 3mm wide, running parallel with the side lines; the center line shall be regarded as part of each right half-court. The Net Assembly The net shall be suspended by a cord attached at each end to an upright post 15.25cm high, the outside limits of the post being 15.25cm outside the side line. The top of the net, along its whole length, shall be 15.25cm above the playing surface. The Ball The ball shall be spherical, with a diameter of 40mm.and weigh 2.7g. The ball shall be made of celluloid or similar plastics material and shall be white or orange, and matt. The Racket The racket may be of any size, shape or weight but the blade (wooden face) shall be flat and rigid. The covering material (rubber sheets) shall extend up to but not beyond the limits of the blade, except that the part nearest the handle and gripped by the fingers may be left uncovered or covered with any material. The surface of the covering material on a side of the blade, or of a side of the blade if it is left uncovered, shall be matt, bright red on one side and black on the other. Slight deviations from continuity of surface or uniformity of color due to accidental damage or wear may be allowed provided that they do not significantly change the characteristics of the surface. Rules of the game Serving The server shall project the ball near vertically upwards, without imparting spin, so that it rises at least 16cm and then falls without touching anything before being struck. The ball shall not be hidden from the receiver by any part of the body or clothing of the server or his doubles partner and as soon as the ball has been projected, the server’s free arm shall be removed from the space between the server’s body and the net. If the umpire is doubtful of the legality of a service he may, on the first occasion in a match, declare a let (see below) and warn the server. Any subsequent service of doubtful legality of that player or his doubles partner will result in a point to the receiver. Whenever there is a clear failure to comply with the requirements for a good service, no warning shall be given and the receiver shall score a point.

On the Value of a Degree in the Philippines Essay

The employment chances of a fresh college graduate is only 4 in 10, with only 1 in that 4 attaining work relevant to one’s course. Even in light of the unprecedented growth of 6. 6% in GDP over the last year, the labor sector fails to follow suit in what economists characterize as a â€Å"job-shedding† growth. So where does a college degree place us? With the increased pressures on the youth to attend college, many consider the existence of a higher education bubble. The concept hypothesizes, in part, that movements in factors such as tuition payments and unemployable graduates severely decrease the rate of return to a college degree up to a point where it is rendered useless. In the case of the Philippines, effective capping of tuition fees to relatively affordable rates, spaces us from a bubble as of yet. However, it is to be stressed that with everyone jumping in the college wagon all at once – as is apparent now– we will soon find college degrees as no more useful than scratch, and then the true bubble begins. There are too many college graduates. All college students should be aware that although a degree does open doors it loses much of its value as more and more people achieve this accolade. In 2012, a total of 517,425 college students graduated and entered the labor force. With another half a million expected to graduate in March this year, there is increasing concern on their place in the labor market. The number of graduates increase over the years, however jobs increase terribly less, if they increase at all – 882,000 jobs were reported to have disappeared in 2012. Since too many people compete for the same job, employers can afford to lower wages or increase qualifications as much as possible. This is apparent in the over qualification of some jobs – now supermarket baggers or janitors are expected to have had some years of college or even graduated the same, as opposed to the minimum of high school undergraduate in most other countries. College courses are insufficient or incompatible with jobs offered in the market. The Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE) holds job and livelihood fairs across the country, recently offering a total of 360,777 job vacancies. But on a nationwide count only 5,101 job applicants were hired on the spot. In another attempt, the government posted in its Phil. JobNet website 230,000 jobs but only 117,000 applied. Apparently, the jobs created by the government are inconsistent with what graduates believe they deserve or were trained for in those four or more years of education. To add, even once employed underemployment lingers – tainting up to about 7. 2 million job matches – with insufficient base pay as main culprit. Nearly everyone believes a college education is essential. In our society, the college degree has been stigmatized as the best and surest – and sometimes only – path to take in preparation for one’s career. This is contestable however as evidenced in European countries where entrepreneurship and technical education are much more popular and profitable paths than college. The Philippines doesn’t necessarily lack these options, (i. e. TESDA) rather we lack awareness and social approval for these said alternatives. Solutions De-emphasize the necessity of a college degree. The higher education system of countries like Germany, remain stable and un-depreciated, since non-professional or non-corporate jobs are highly popular and equally regarded with college education. Removing the stigma of a college degree can relieve pressure on prices and rates of return to higher education. Therefore, introducing and popularizing technical courses – which are actually highly demanded – can solve much of the Philippine labor problem. Redesigning colleges and curriculums to incorporate in-demand jobs. Supply may be easier adjusted to cope with the requirements of demand, rather than the other way around. Close association with firms accompanied by an overhaul of course curriculums to better suit the needs of employers can effectively reduce mismatch. Administrators and faculty should understand the factors at work in how their programs are depreciating since if the market for college degrees becomes over-saturated we will all pay the price of meaningless degrees and poor opportunity for many in the workplace. Many experts and opinions point to the government’s futile efforts at job creation (i. e. demand) as the main antagonist in this story. However, the equally policy-relevant yet rarely focused upon supply side of labour may offer other, more easily interceded directions. Solving the Philippines’ problems on labour is a tall order however attacking from all sides – both demand and supply – can better efforts towards the nationwide goal of inclusive growth. Reference: Higher Education Bubble Will Burst, May 3, 2011 http://www. usnews. com/education/blogs/the-college-solution/2011/05/03/higher-education-bubble-will-burst, Accessed February 11, 2013 The Value of a Degree, May 06, 2011 http://www. popecenter. org/commentaries/article. html? id=2517, Accessed February 11, 2013 Joblessness: How deep, what needs to be done?, February 06, 2013. http://www. bworldonline. com/content. php? section=Opinion&title=Joblessness:-How-deep,-what-needs-to-be-done? &id=65457, Accessed February 11 ,2013 For inclusive growth: Jobs with higher wages, February 9, 2013 http://www. philstar. com/opinion/2013/02/09/906642/inclusive-growth-jobs-higher-wages, Accessed February 11 ,2013 Oversupply of Unemployable Graduates, January 23, 2010 http://planetphilippines. com/migration/a-disastrous-oversupply-of-unemployable-graduates, Accessed February 11 ,2013 Bureau of Labor and Employment Statistics Commission on Higher Education.

A Game of Thrones Chapter Fifty-two

Jon Othor,† announced Ser Jaremy Rykker, â€Å"beyond a doubt. And this one was Jafer Flowers.† He turned the corpse over with his foot, and the dead white face stared up at the overcast sky with blue, blue eyes. â€Å"They were Ben Stark's men, both of them.† My uncle's men, Jon thought numbly. He remembered how he'd pleaded to ride with them. Gods, I was such a green boy. If he had taken me, it might be me lying here . . . Jafer's right wrist ended in the ruin of torn flesh and splintered bone left by Ghost's jaws. His right hand was floating in a jar of vinegar back in Maester Aemon's tower. His left hand, still at the end of his arm, was as black as his cloak. â€Å"Gods have mercy,† the Old Bear muttered. He swung down from his garron, handing his reins to Jon. The morning was unnaturally warm; beads of sweat dotted the Lord Commander's broad forehead like dew on a melon. His horse was nervous, rolling her eyes, backing away from the dead men as far as her lead would allow. Jon led her off a few paces, fighting to keep her from bolting. The horses did not like the feel of this place. For that matter, neither did Jon. The dogs liked it least of all. Ghost had led the party here; the pack of hounds had been useless. When Bass the kennelmaster had tried to get them to take the scent from the severed hand, they had gone wild, yowling and barking, fighting to get away. Even now they were snarling and whimpering by turns, pulling at their leashes while Chett cursed them for curs. It is only a wood, Jon told himself, and they're only dead men. He had seen dead men before . . . Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he'd heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering. Even when Ghost leapt up on the bed to nuzzle at his face, he could not shake his deep sense of terror. He dared not go back to sleep. Instead he had climbed the Wall and walked, restless, until he saw the light of the dawn off to the cast. It was only a dream. I am a brother of the Night's Watch now, not a frightened boy. Samwell Tarly huddled beneath the trees, half-hidden behind the horses. His round fat face was the color of curdled milk. So far he had not lurched off to the woods to retch, but he had not so much as glanced at the dead men either. â€Å"I can't look,† he whispered miserably. â€Å"You have to look,† Jon told him, keeping his voice low so the others would not hear. â€Å"Maester Aemon sent you to be his eyes, didn't he? What good are eyes if they're shut?† â€Å"Yes, but . . . I'm such a coward, Jon.† Jon put a hand on Sam's shoulder. â€Å"We have a dozen rangers with us, and the dogs, even Ghost. No one will hurt you, Sam. Go ahead and look. The first look is the hardest.† Sam gave a tremulous nod, working up his courage with a visible effort. Slowly he swiveled his head. His eyes widened, but Jon held his arm so he could not turn away. â€Å"Ser Jaremy,† the Old Bear asked gruffly, â€Å"Ben Stark had six men with him when he rode from the Wall. Where are the others?† Ser Jaremy shook his head. â€Å"Would that I knew.† Plainly Mormont was not pleased with that answer. â€Å"Two of our brothers butchered almost within sight of the Wall, yet your rangers heard nothing, saw nothing. Is this what the Night's Watch has fallen to? Do we still sweep these woods?† â€Å"Yes, my lord, but—† â€Å"Do we still mount watches?† â€Å"We do, but—† â€Å"This man wears a hunting horn.† Mormont pointed at Othor. â€Å"Must I suppose that he died without sounding it? Or have your rangers all gone deaf as well as blind?† Ser Jaremy bristled, his face taut with anger. â€Å"No horn was blown, my lord, or my rangers would have heard it. I do not have sufficient men to mount as many patrols as I should like . . . and since Benjen was lost, we have stayed closer to the Wall than we were wont to do before, by your own command.† The Old Bear grunted. â€Å"Yes. Well. Be that as it may.† He made an impatient gesture. â€Å"Tell me how they died.† Squatting beside the dead man he had named Jafer Flowers, Ser Jaremy grasped his head by the scalp. The hair came out between his fingers, brittle as straw. The knight cursed and shoved at the face with the heel of his hand. A great gash in the side of the corpse's neck opened like a mouth, crusted with dried blood. Only a few ropes of pale tendon still attached the head to the neck. â€Å"This was done with an axe.† â€Å"Aye,† muttered Dywen, the old forester. â€Å"Belike the axe that Othor carried, m'lord.† Jon could feel his breakfast churning in his belly, but he pressed his lips together and made himself look at the second body. Othor had been a big ugly man, and he made a big ugly corpse. No axe was in evidence. Jon remembered Othor; he had been the one bellowing the bawdy song as the rangers rode out. His singing days were done. His flesh was blanched white as milk, everywhere but his hands. His hands were black like Jafer's. Blossoms of hard cracked blood decorated the mortal wounds that covered him like a rash, breast and groin and throat. Yet his eyes were still open. They stared up at the sky, blue as sapphires. Ser Jaremy stood. â€Å"The wildlings have axes too.† Mormont rounded on him. â€Å"So you believe this is Mance Rayder's work? This close to the Wall?† â€Å"Who else, my lord?† Jon could have told him. He knew, they all knew, yet no man of them would say the words. The Others are only a story, a tale to make children shiver. If they ever lived at all, they are gone eight thousand years. Even the thought made him feel foolish; he was a man grown now, a black brother of the Night's Watch, not the boy who'd once sat at Old Nan's feet with Bran and Robb and Arya. Yet Lord Commander Mormont gave a snort. â€Å"If Ben Stark had come under wildling attack a half day's ride from Castle Black, he would have returned for more men, chased the killers through all seven hells and brought me back their heads.† â€Å"Unless he was slain as well,† Ser Jaremy insisted. The words hurt, even now. It had been so long, it seemed folly to cling to the hope that Ben Stark was still alive, but Jon Snow was nothing if not stubborn. â€Å"It has been close on half a year since Benjen left us, my lord,† Ser Jaremy went on. â€Å"The forest is vast. The wildlings might have fallen on him anywhere. I'd wager these two were the last survivors of his party, on their way back to us . . . but the enemy caught them before they could reach the safety of the Wall. The corpses are still fresh, these men cannot have been dead more than a day . . . .† â€Å"No,† Samwell Tarly squeaked. Jon was startled. Sam's nervous, high-pitched voice was the last he would have expected to hear. The fat boy was frightened of the officers, and Ser Jaremy was not known for his patience. â€Å"I did not ask for your views, boy,† Rykker said coldly. â€Å"Let him speak, ser,† Jon blurted. Mormont's eyes flicked from Sam to Jon and back again. â€Å"If the lad has something to say, I'll hear him out. Come closer, boy. We can't see you behind those horses.† Sam edged past Jon and the garrons, sweating profusely. â€Å"My lord, it . . . it can't be a day or . . . look . . . the blood . . . â€Å" â€Å"Yes?† Mormont growled impatiently. â€Å"Blood, what of it?† â€Å"He soils his smallclothes at the sight of it,† Chett shouted out, and the rangers laughed. Sam mopped at the sweat on his brow. â€Å"You . . . you can see where Ghost . . . Jon's direwolf . . . you can see where he tore off that man's hand, and yet . . . the stump hasn't bled, look . . . † He waved a hand. â€Å"My father . . . L-lord Randyll, he, he made me watch him dress animals sometimes, when . . . after . . . † Sam shook his head from side to side, his chins quivering. Now that he had looked at the bodies, he could not seem to look away. â€Å"A fresh kill . . . the blood would still flow, my lords. Later . . . later it would be clotted, like a . . . a jelly, thick and . . . and . . . † He looked as though he was going to be sick. â€Å"This man . . . look at the wrist, it's all . . . crusty . . . dry . . . like . . . â€Å" Jon saw at once what Sam meant. He could see the torn veins in the dead man's wrist, iron worms in the pale flesh. His blood was a black dust. Yet Jaremy Rykker was unconvinced. â€Å"If they'd been dead much longer than a day, they'd be ripe by now, boy. They don't even smell.† Dywen, the gnarled old forester who liked to boast that he could smell snow coming on, sidled closer to the corpses and took a whiff. â€Å"Well, they're no pansy flowers, but . . . m'lord has the truth of it. There's no corpse stink.† â€Å"They . . . they aren't rotting.† Sam pointed, his fat finger shaking only a little. â€Å"Look, there's . . . there's no maggots or . . . or . . . worms or anything . . . they've been lying here in the woods, but they . . . they haven't been chewed or eaten by animals . . . only Ghost . . . otherwise they're . . . they're . . . â€Å" â€Å"Untouched,† Jon said softly. â€Å"And Ghost is different. The dogs and the horses won't go near them.† The rangers exchanged glances; they could see it was true, every man of them. Mormont frowned, glancing from the corpses to the dogs. â€Å"Chett, bring the hounds closer.† Chett tried, cursing, yanking on the leashes, giving one animal a lick of his boot. Most of the dogs just whimpered and planted their feet. He tried dragging one. The bitch resisted, growling and squirming as if to escape her collar. Finally she lunged at him. Chett dropped the leash and stumbled backward. The dog leapt over him and bounded off into the trees. â€Å"This . . . this is all wrong,† Sam Tarly said earnestly. â€Å"The blood . . . there's bloodstains on their clothes, and . . . and their flesh, dry and hard, but . . . there's none on the ground, or . . . anywhere. With those . . . those . . . those . . . † Sam made himself swallow, took a deep breath. â€Å"With those wounds . . . terrible wounds . . . there should be blood all over. Shouldn't there?† Dywen sucked at his wooden teeth. â€Å"Might be they didn't die here. Might be someone brought 'em and left 'em for us. A warning, as like.† The old forester peered down suspiciously. â€Å"And might be I'm a fool, but I don't know that Othor never had no blue eyes afore.† Ser Jaremy looked startled. â€Å"Neither did Flowers,† he blurted, turning to stare at the dead man. A silence fell over the wood. For a moment all they heard was Sam's heavy breathing and the wet sound of Dywen sucking on his teeth. Jon squatted beside Ghost. â€Å"Burn them,† someone whispered. One of the rangers; Jon could not have said who. â€Å"Yes, burn them,† a second voice urged. The Old Bear gave a stubborn shake of his head. â€Å"Not yet. I want Maester Aemon to have a look at them. We'll bring them back to the Wall.† Some commands are more easily given than obeyed. They wrapped the dead men in cloaks, but when Hake and Dywen tried to tie one onto a horse, the animal went mad, screaming and rearing, lashing out with its hooves, even biting at Ketter when he ran to help. The rangers had no better luck with the other garrons; not even the most placid wanted any part of these burdens. In the end they were forced to hack off branches and fashion crude slings to carry the corpses back on foot. It was well past midday by the time they started back. â€Å"I will have these woods searched,† Mormont commanded Ser Jaremy as they set out. â€Å"Every tree, every rock, every bush, and every foot of muddy ground within ten leagues of here. Use all the men you have, and if you do not have enough, borrow hunters and foresters from the stewards. If Ben and the others are out here, dead or alive, I will have them found. And if there is anyone else in these woods, I will know of it. You are to track them and take them, alive if possible. Is that understood?† â€Å"It is, my lord,† Ser Jaremy said. â€Å"It will be done.† After that, Mormont rode in silence, brooding. Jon followed close behind him; as the Lord Commander's steward, that was his place. The day was grey, damp, overcast, the sort of day that made you wish for rain. No wind stirred the wood; the air hung humid and heavy, and Jon's clothes clung to his skin. It was warm. Too warm. The Wall was weeping copiously, had been weeping for days, and sometimes Jon even imagined it was shrinking. The old men called this weather spirit summer, and said it meant the season was giving up its ghosts at last. After this the cold would come, they warned, and a long summer always meant a long winter. This summer had lasted ten years. Jon had been a babe in arms when it began. Ghost ran with them for a time and then vanished among the trees. Without the direwolf, Jon felt almost naked. He found himself glancing at every shadow with unease. Unbidden, he thought back on the tales that Old Nan used to tell them, when he was a boy at Winterfell. He could almost hear her voice again, and the click-click-click of her needles. In that darkness, the Others came riding, she used to say, dropping her voice lower and lower. Cold and dead they were, and they hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every living creature with hot blood in its veins. Holdfasts and cities and kingdoms of men all fell before them, as they moved south on pale dead horses, leading hosts of the slain. They fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children . . . When he caught his first glimpse of the Wall looming above the tops of an ancient gnarled oak, Jon was vastly relieved. Mormont reined up suddenly and turned in his saddle. â€Å"Tarly,† he barked, â€Å"come here.† Jon saw the start of fright on Sam's face as he lumbered up on his mare; doubtless he thought he was in trouble. â€Å"You're fat but you're not stupid, boy,† the Old Bear said gruffly. â€Å"You did well back there. And you, Snow.† Sam blushed a vivid crimson and tripped over his own tongue as he tried to stammer out a courtesy. Jon had to smile. When they emerged from under the trees, Mormont spurred his tough little garron to a trot. Ghost came streaking out from the woods to meet them, licking his chops, his muzzle red from prey. High above, the men on the Wall saw the column approaching. Jon heard the deep, throaty call of the watchman's great horn, calling out across the miles; a single long blast that shuddered through the trees and echoed off the ice. UUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooo. The sound faded slowly to silence. One blast meant rangers returning, and Jon thought, I was a ranger for one day, at least. Whatever may come, they cannot take that away from me. Bowen Marsh was waiting at the first gate as they led their garrons through the icy tunnel. The Lord Steward was red-faced and agitated. â€Å"My lord,† he blurted at Mormont as he swung open the iron bars, â€Å"there's been a bird, you must come at once.† â€Å"What is it, man?† Mormont said gruffly. Curiously, Marsh glanced at Jon before he answered. â€Å"Maester Aemon has the letter. He's waiting in your solar.† â€Å"Very well. Jon, see to my horse, and tell Ser Jaremy to put the dead men in a storeroom until the maester is ready for them.† Mormont strode away grumbling. As they led their horses back to the stable, Jon was uncomfortably aware that people were watching him. Ser Alliser Thorne was drilling his boys in the yard, but he broke off to stare at Jon, a faint half smile on his lips. One-armed Donal Noye stood in the door of the armory. â€Å"The gods be with you, Snow,† he called out. Something's wrong, Jon thought. Something's very wrong. The dead men were carried to one of the storerooms along the base of the Wall, a dark cold cell chiseled from the ice and used to keep meat and grain and sometimes even beer. Jon saw that Mormont's horse was fed and watered and groomed before he took care of his own. Afterward he sought out his friends. Grenn and Toad were on watch, but he found Pyp in the common hall. â€Å"What's happened?† he asked. Pyp lowered his voice. â€Å"The king's dead.† Jon was stunned. Robert Baratheon had looked old and fat when he visited Winterfell, yet he'd seemed hale enough, and there'd been no talk of illness. â€Å"How can you know?† â€Å"One of the guards overheard Clydas reading the letter to Maester Aemon.† Pyp leaned close. â€Å"Jon, I'm sorry. He was your father's friend, wasn't he?† â€Å"They were as close as brothers, once.† Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know. â€Å"I heard Hake say the dead men were your uncle's,† Pyp said. â€Å"Yes,† Jon replied. â€Å"Two of the six he took with him. They'd been dead a long time, only . . . the bodies are queer.† â€Å"Queer?† Pyp was all curiosity. â€Å"How queer?† â€Å"Sam will tell you.† Jon did not want to talk of it. â€Å"I should see if the Old Bear has need of me.† He walked to the Lord Commander's Tower alone, with a curious sense of apprehension. The brothers on guard eyed him solemnly as he approached. â€Å"The Old Bear's in his solar,† one of them announced. â€Å"He was asking for you.† Jon nodded. He should have come straight from the stable. He climbed the tower steps briskly. He wants wine or a fire in his hearth, that's all, he told himself. When he entered the solar, Mormont's raven screamed at him. â€Å"Corn!† the bird shrieked. â€Å"Corn! Corn! Corn!† â€Å"Don't you believe it, I just fed him,† the Old Bear growled. He was seated by the window, reading a letter. â€Å"Bring me a cup of wine, and pour one for yourself.† â€Å"For myself, my lord?† Mormont lifted his eyes from the letter to stare at Jon. There was pity in that look; he could taste it. â€Å"You heard me.† Jon poured with exaggerated care, vaguely aware that he was drawing out the act. When the cups were filled, he would have no choice but to face whatever was in that letter. Yet all too soon, they were filled. â€Å"Sit, boy,† Mormont commanded him. â€Å"Drink.† Jon remained standing. â€Å"It's my father, isn't it?† The Old Bear tapped the letter with a finger. â€Å"Your father and the king,† he rumbled. â€Å"I won't lie to you, it's grievous news. I never thought to see another king, not at my age, with Robert half my years and strong as a bull.† He took a gulp of wine. â€Å"They say the king loved to hunt. The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that. My son loved that young wife of his. Vain woman. If not for her, he would never have thought to sell those poachers.† Jon could scarcely follow what he was saying. â€Å"My lord, I don't understand. What's happened to my father?† â€Å"I told you to sit,† Mormont grumbled. â€Å"Sit,† the raven screamed. â€Å"And have a drink, damn you. That's a command, Snow.† Jon sat, and took a sip of wine. â€Å"Lord Eddard has been imprisoned. He is charged with treason. It is said he plotted with Robert's brothers to deny the throne to Prince Joffrey.† â€Å"No,† Jon said at once. â€Å"That couldn't be. My father would never betray the king!† â€Å"Be that as it may,† said Mormont. â€Å"It is not for me to say. Nor for you.† â€Å"But it's a lie,† Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself . . . would he? He fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name. â€Å"My lord, what will happen to him? Will they kill him?† â€Å"As to that, I cannot say, lad. I mean to send a letter. I knew some of the king's councillors in my youth. Old Pycelle, Lord Stannis, Ser Barristan . . . Whatever your father has done, or hasn't done, he is a great lord. He must be allowed to take the black and join us here. Gods knows, we need men of Lord Eddard's ability.† Jon knew that other men accused of treason had been allowed to redeem their honor on the Wall in days past. Why not Lord Eddard? His father here. That was a strange thought, and strangely uncomfortable. It would be a monstrous injustice to strip him of Winterfell and force him to take the black, and yet if it meant his life . . . And would Joffrey allow it? He remembered the prince at Winterfell, the way he'd mocked Robb and Ser Rodrik in the yard. Jon himself he had scarcely even noticed; bastards were beneath even his contempt. â€Å"My lord, will the king listen to you?† The Old Bear shrugged. â€Å"A boy king . . . I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive—† â€Å"Lady Stark is not my mother,† Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. â€Å"My lord, what of my sisters? Arya and Sansa, they were with my father, do you know—† â€Å"Pycelle makes no mention of them, but doubtless they'll be treated gently. I will ask about them when I write.† Mormont shook his head. â€Å"This could not have happened at a worse time. If ever the realm needed a strong king . . . there are dark days and cold nights ahead, I feel it in my bones . . . † He gave Jon a long shrewd look. â€Å"I hope you are not thinking of doing anything stupid, boy.† He's my father, Jon wanted to say, but he knew that Mormont would not want to hear it. His throat was dry. He made himself take another sip of wine. â€Å"Your duty is here now,† the Lord Commander reminded him. â€Å"Your old life ended when you took the black.† His bird made a raucous echo. â€Å"Black.† Mormont took no notice. â€Å"Whatever they do in King's Landing is none of our concern.† When Jon did not answer, the old man finished his wine and said, â€Å"You're free to go. I'll have no further need of you today. On the morrow you can help me write that letter.† Jon did not remember standing or leaving the solar. The next he knew, he was descending the tower steps, thinking, This is my father, my sisters, how can it be none of my concern? Outside, one of the guards looked at him and said, â€Å"Be strong, boy. The gods are cruel.† They know, Jon realized. â€Å"My father is no traitor,† he said hoarsely. Even the words stuck in his throat, as if to choke him. The wind was rising, and it seemed colder in the yard than it had when he'd gone in. Spirit summer was drawing to an end. The rest of the afternoon passed as if in a dream. Jon could not have said where he walked, what he did, who he spoke with. Ghost was with him, he knew that much. The silent presence of the direwolf gave him comfort. The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria's lost, they're all alone. A north wind had begun to blow by the time the sun went down. Jon could hear it skirling against the Wall and over the icy battlements as he went to the common hall for the evening meal. Hobb had cooked up a venison stew, thick with barley, onions, and carrots. When he spooned an extra portion onto Jon's plate and gave him the crusty heel of the bread, he knew what it meant. He knows. He looked around the hall, saw heads turn quickly, eyes politely averted. They all know. His friends rallied to him. â€Å"We asked the septon to light a candle for your father,† Matthar told him. â€Å"It's a lie, we all know it's a lie, even Grenn knows it's a lie,† Pyp chimed in. Grenn nodded, and Sam clasped Jon's hand, â€Å"You're my brother now, so he's my father too,† the fat boy said. â€Å"If you want to go out to the weirwoods and pray to the old gods, I'll go with you.† The weirwoods were beyond the Wall, yet he knew Sam meant what he said. They are my brothers, he thought. As much as Robb and Bran and Rickon . . . And then he heard the laughter, sharp and cruel as a whip, and the voice of Ser Alliser Thorne. â€Å"Not only a bastard, but a traitor's bastard,† he was telling the men around him. In the blink of an eye, Jon had vaulted onto the table, dagger in his hand. Pyp made a grab for him, but he wrenched his leg away, and then he was sprinting down the table and kicking the bowl from Ser Alliser's hand. Stew went flying everywhere, spattering the brothers. Thorne recoiled. People were shouting, but Jon Snow did not hear them. He lunged at Ser Alliser's face with the dagger, slashing at those cold onyx eyes, but Sam threw himself between them and before Jon could get around him, Pyp was on his back clinging like a monkey, and Grenn was grabbing his arm while Toad wrenched the knife from his fingers. Later, much later, after they had marched him back to his sleeping cell, Mormont came down to see him, raven on his shoulder. â€Å"I told you not to do anything stupid, boy,† the Old Bear said. â€Å"Boy,† the bird chorused. Mormont shook his head, disgusted. â€Å"And to think I had high hopes for you.† They took his knife and his sword and told him he was not to leave his cell until the high officers met to decide what was to be done with him. And then they placed a guard outside his door to make certain he obeyed. His friends were not allowed to see him, but the Old Bear did relent and permit him Ghost, so he was not utterly alone. â€Å"My father is no traitor,† he told the direwolf when the rest had gone. Ghost looked at him in silence. Jon slumped against the wall, hands around his knees, and stared at the candle on the table beside his narrow bed. The flame flickered and swayed, the shadows moved around him, the room seemed to grow darker and colder. I will not sleep tonight, Jon thought. Yet he must have dozed. When he woke, his legs were stiff and cramped and the candle had long since burned out. Ghost stood on his hind legs, scrabbling at the door. Jon was startled to see how tall he'd grown. â€Å"Ghost, what is it?† he called softly. The direwolf turned his head and looked down at him, baring his fangs in a silent snarl. Has he gone mad? Jon wondered. â€Å"It's me, Ghost,† he murmured, trying not to sound afraid. Yet he was trembling, violently. When had it gotten so cold? Ghost backed away from the door. There were deep gouges where he'd raked the wood. Jon watched him with mounting disquiet. â€Å"There's someone out there, isn't there?† he whispered. Crouching, the direwolf crept backward, white fur rising on the back of his neck. The guard, he thought, they left a man to guard my door, Ghost smells him through the door, that's all it is. Slowly, Jon pushed himself to his feet. He was shivering uncontrollably, wishing he still had a sword. Three quick steps brought him to the door. He grabbed the handle and pulled it inward. The creak of the hinges almost made him jump. His guard was sprawled bonelessly across the narrow steps, looking up at him. Looking up at him, even though he was lying on his stomach. His head had been twisted completely around. It can't be, Jon told himself. This is the Lord Commander's Tower, it's guarded day and night, this couldn't happen, it's a dream, I'm having a nightmare. Ghost slid past him, out the door. The wolf started up the steps, stopped, looked back at Jon. That was when he heard it; the soft scrape of a boot on stone, the sound of a latch turning. The sounds came from above. From the Lord Commander's chambers. A nightmare this might be, yet it was no dream. The guard's sword was in its sheath. Jon knelt and worked it free. The heft of steel in his fist made him bolder. He moved up the steps, Ghost padding silently before him. Shadows lurked in every turn of the stair. Jon crept up warily, probing any suspicious darkness with the point of his sword. Suddenly he heard the shriek of Mormont's raven. â€Å"Corn,† the bird was screaming. â€Å"Corn, corn, corn, corn, corn, corn.† Ghost bounded ahead, and Jon came scrambling after. The door to Mormont's solar was wide open. The direwolf plunged through. Jon stopped in the doorway, blade in hand, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. Heavy drapes had been pulled across the windows, and the darkness was black as ink. â€Å"Who's there?† he called out. Then he saw it, a shadow in the shadows, sliding toward the inner door that led to Mormont's sleeping cell, a man-shape all in black, cloaked and hooded . . . but beneath the hood, its eyes shone with an icy blue radiance . . . Ghost leapt. Man and wolf went down together with neither scream nor snarl, rolling, smashing into a chair, knocking over a table laden with papers. Mormont's raven was flapping overhead, screaming, â€Å"Corn, corn, corn, corn.† Jon felt as blind as Maester Aemon. Keeping the wall to his back, he slid toward the window and ripped down the curtain. Moonlight flooded the solar. He glimpsed black hands buried in white fur, swollen dark fingers tightening around his direwolf's throat. Ghost was twisting and snapping, legs flailing in the air, but he could not break free. Jon had no time to be afraid. He threw himself forward, shouting, bringing down the longsword with all his weight behind it. Steel sheared through sleeve and skin and bone, yet the sound was wrong somehow. The smell that engulfed him was so queer and cold he almost gagged. He saw arm and hand on the floor, black fingers wriggling in a pool of moonlight. Ghost wrenched free of the other hand and crept away, red tongue lolling from his mouth. The hooded man lifted his pale moon face, and Jon slashed at it without hesitation. The sword laid the intruder open to the bone, taking off half his nose and opening a gash cheek to cheek under those eyes, eyes, eyes like blue stars burning. Jon knew that face. Othor, he thought, reeling back. Gods, he's dead, he's dead, I saw him dead. He felt something scrabble at his ankle. Black fingers clawed at his calf. The arm was crawling up his leg, ripping at wool and flesh. Shouting with revulsion, Jon pried the fingers off his leg with the point of his sword and flipped the thing away. It lay writhing, fingers opening and closing. The corpse lurched forward. There was no blood. One-armed, face cut near in half, it seemed to feel nothing. Jon held the longsword before him. â€Å"Stay away!† he commanded, his voice gone shrill. â€Å"Corn,† screamed the raven, â€Å"corn, corn.† The severed arm was wriggling out of its torn sleeve, a pale snake with a black five-fingered head. Ghost pounced and got it between his teeth. Finger bones crunched. Jon hacked at the corpse's neck, felt the steel bite deep and hard. Dead Othor slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. Jon's breath went out of him as the fallen table caught him between his shoulder blades. The sword, where was the sword? He'd lost the damned sword! When he opened his mouth to scream, the wight jammed its black corpse fingers into Jon's mouth. Gagging, he tried to shove it off, but the dead man was too heavy. Its hand forced itself farther down his throat, icy cold, choking him. Its face was against his own, filling the world. Frost covered its eyes, sparkling blue. Jon raked cold flesh with his nails and kicked at the thing's legs. He tried to bite, tried to punch, tried to breathe . . . And suddenly the corpse's weight was gone, its fingers ripped from his throat. It was all Jon could do to roll over, retching and shaking. Ghost had it again. He watched as the direwolf buried his teeth in the wight's gut and began to rip and tear. He watched, only half conscious, for a long moment before he finally remembered to look for his sword . . . . . . and saw Lord Mormont, naked and groggy from sleep, standing in the doorway with an oil lamp in hand. Gnawed and fingerless, the arm thrashed on the floor, wriggling toward him. Jon tried to shout, but his voice was gone. Staggering to his feet, he kicked the arm away and snatched the lamp from the Old Bear's fingers. The flame flickered and almost died. â€Å"Burn!† the raven cawed. â€Å"Burn, burn, burn!† Spinning, Jon saw the drapes he'd ripped from the window. He flung the lamp into the puddled cloth with both hands. Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. â€Å"Ghost!† he shouted. The direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. Jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of the burning drapes, and whipped them at the dead man. Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.

Analyze a School's Emergency and Crisis Response Plan Coursework - 1

Analyze a School's Emergency and Crisis Response Plan - Coursework Example This paper will outline the context of Murrell Taylor Elementary School, and evaluate it based on its breadth, specificity, clarity regarding roles, communications, and routine (including both exercises or drills and training requirements). It is important, before reviewing any emergency or crisis response plan, to ensure that one is properly aware of the context of the institution creating it. A school in a major urban area will have many different resources and challenges than a school in a rural area, for example. Murrell Taylor Elementary School is placed on the furthest west corner of Jacksonville, a distant suburb of Little Rock, Arkansas. The town of Jacksonville is quite small, with a population of only 22,000, but the school is none-the-less only a dozen and a half miles from the centre of Little Rock, which has a metro population nearing 700,000. Thus Murrell Taylor is strongly a suburban school, almost bordering on a rural school, with ready access to the resources (and sometimes problems) related to a major metropolitan area. In terms of micro-geography, the school is located on a mostly-empty lot, which abuts onto a small subdivision of houses on one side, and a shopping centre on the other. The school fea tures one central building and no outbuildings, with a large field to its front and several small recreational areas surrounding it. Murrell Taylor Elementary School’s crisis response plan has a fairly good deal of breadth. The plan opens with a description of generalized emergency procedures, including who can declare an emergency (the principal or designate) and who the next calls and decisions would need to be made by (in most cases district officers/ the office of the superintendent). This allows for a highly flexible, if somewhat broad and vague, framework for which any emergency can be used. The strength of this opening is that it can apply to

For Rousseau, man is born free and everywhere he is in chains. Do you Essay

For Rousseau, man is born free and everywhere he is in chains. Do you agree with this assessment Discuss with reference to - Essay Example The first man who accustomed himself as an owner of a land had first brought the idea of tyranny and oppression in society. Prior to the idea, that society had succumbed to ownership; there have been less crime and hardship, and sorrow was out of sight. However, when man succeeded in the act of ownership with it began the invisible chain attached to every human being born. Furthermore, man emerged when he was first to think of himself, provide for his own needs, and was ignorant of his ability to own properties and be above with others. Nonetheless, the time came that he felt the difficulty to do things all by himself and do against the natural circumstances. The differing tides of the time, the changes of the environmental conditions, and other natural and unexpected circumstances had brought man to a point where he considered these as no longer natural. It became a significant source of hardship for him. In order to survive the hindrances, man needed to learn to be above other spec ies. He needed to eat; therefore, he hunted down other species, which had brought him to think that he is above them. This superiority brought man to boast and take pride of himself. As a result, the solitary man had evolved into seeing his likeness to other human beings. His ability to incorporate himself with others and his ability to be part of the lives of others came to being naturally, and at first, language was not needed in order to interact. Jean Jacques Rousseau added that, in line with man’s ability to interact and be above other species, he was able to evolve into a person who has learned the usage of tools. These primitive tools brought man to build huts. In these huts were families, considered as the smallest part of a society, which begun to hold property on where their huts stood. The families, which composed of a man and a woman, lived under one roof and were able to bear children. After the establishment of the first society, man became more convenient on hi s way of living. However, his needs accumulated and losing these needs and not sufficiently having these needs made him unhappy. Moreover, language emerged during the time when man experienced natural catastrophes. This had caused man to be able to communicate in order to combat and surpass these instances. Furthermore, in the emergence of language, man became more civilized and eventually formed nations. Along with this, the love within families heightened in the light of ideas and preferences of the nations. Negative ideologies also came about which also brought walls between the differences of the different group of people. People were grouped in accordance to the songs they were singing and to the steps they were dancing. A wall between people was established by identifying one as different from the others. This then caused inequality, and vices became real in the realm of societies. This had brought man to believe that, by nature, he is unjust, disrespectful and that politics m ust emerge to be able to maintain peace and order. However, this has been wrongly inferred because man, at its natural state is gentle. Moreover, the earliest society depicted happiness among its people; however, progress eventually brought inequality. Freedom was felt by every individual; however, the inevitable chains of slavery and captivity were brought to existence

Corporate Fundraising Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1750 words - 2

Corporate Fundraising - Essay Example As can be observed with reference to the case scenario presented, The Green Coffee Company Ltd is aiming at investing in Vietnam which requires a substantial amount of funds. It is worth mentioning in this context that corporate fundraising options available to a particular business depends on various factors including the size of the company which further signifies its certification as a public or a proprietary company as per the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth) (â€Å"A Practitioner’s Guide to Corporate Law†, 2007). To be noted, as per the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth) Section 45A, a proprietary company can be limited or unlimited with share capital. Another type of company identifies as per the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth) is the public company wherein the Section 195 of the Act specifies that â€Å"public company means a company other than a proprietary company† (â€Å"Corporations Act 2001† 2005). Also, the corporate name of a proprietary company is distinct to that of a public company, i.e. ... With reference to this context, The Green Coffee Company Ltd can be identified as a public limited company which shall further determine its fundraising obligations when attempting to invest in an international expansion venture to Vietnam. One of the major differences and opportunities for The Green Coffee Company Ltd in fundraising, being a public limited company, is that it can issue equities or sell its debentures or shares to â€Å"more than 50 non-employee shareholders† through the obligatory issuing of prospectus where proprietary companies (either limited or unlimited) are exempted from such permits (â€Å"Corporate Law† 2011). From a managerial concern, fundraising activities performed by organisations such as The Green Coffee Company Ltd will quite essentially give rise to company liabilities and thus will seize the risk of affecting shareholders’ or investors’ interests. It is in this context that The Green Coffee Company Ltd must ensure its com pliance with the norms prescribed in the Chapter 6D of the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth). It is worth mentioning in this regard that The Green Coffee Company Ltd is planning to offer shares to the public with the intention to obtain a capital of around $7 million and $15 million owing to which the company must ensure the disclosure of all the required and lodged documents prior to offering securities as per the provisions mentioned in Section 727 (1) of Chapter 6D in the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth) (â€Å"Corporations Act 2001, 2005†). It is mandatory on this note to lodge the disclosure document to the Australian Securities and Investments Commission (ASIC) as per Section 709 of the Corporations Act 2001 (Cth) (â€Å"Better prospectus disclosure† 2006). Contextually, any identification of forging in the