Mystery
No one will figure out this mystery.
Continue readingPromised Neverland
An orphanage sending children to slaughter…
Continue readingSix Swans–joline
Once upon a time, a certain king was hunting in a great forest,
and he chased a wild beast so eagerly that none of his attendants
could follow him. When evening drew near he stopped and looked
around him, and then he saw that he had lost his way. He
sought a way out, but could find none. Then he perceived an aged
woman with a head which nodded perpetually, who came towards
him, but she was a witch. Good woman, said he to her, can
you not show me the way through the forest. Oh, yes, lord
king, she answered, that I certainly can, but on one condition,
and if you do not fulfil that, you will never get out of the
forest, and will die of hunger in it.
What kind of condition is it, asked the king.
I have a daughter, said the old woman, who is as beautiful
as anyone in the world, and well deserves to be your consort,
and if you will make her your queen, I will show you the way out
of the forest. In the anguish of his heart the king consented,
and the old woman led him to her little hut, where her daughter
was sitting by the fire. She received the king as if she had been
expecting him, and he saw that she was very beautiful, but still
she did not please him, and he could not look at her without
secret horror. After he had taken the maiden up on his horse,
the old woman showed him
the way, and the king reached his royal palace again, where the
wedding was celebrated.
The king had already been married once, and had by his first
wife, seven children, six boys and a girl, whom he loved
better than anything else in the world. As he now feared that
the stepmother might not treat them well, and even do them some
injury, he took them to a lonely castle which stood in the
midst of a forest. It lay so concealed, and the way was so
difficult to find that he himself would not have found it,
if a wise woman had not given him a ball of yarn with wonderful
properties. When he threw it down before him, it unrolled
itself and showed him his path.
The king, however, went so
frequently away to his dear children that the queen observed
his absence, she was curious and wanted to know what he did
when he was quite alone in the forest. She gave a great deal
of money to his servants, and they betrayed the secret to her,
and told her likewise of the ball which alone could point out
the way. And now she knew no rest until she had learnt where
the king kept the ball of yarn, and then she made little shirts
of white silk, and as she had learnt the art of witchcraft from
her mother, she sewed a charm inside them. And once when the
king had ridden forth to hunt, she took the little shirts and
went into the forest, and the ball showed her the way.
The
children, who saw from a distance that someone was approaching,
thought that their dear father was coming to them, and full of
joy, ran to meet him. Then she threw one of the little shirts
over each of them, and no sooner had the shirts touched their
bodies than they were changed into swans, and flew away over
the forest. The queen went home quite delighted, and thought
she had got rid of her step-children, but the girl had not run
out with her brothers, and the queen knew nothing about her.
Next day the king went to visit his children, but he found
no one but the little girl. Where are your brothers, asked
the king. Alas, dear father, she answered, they have gone away
and left me alone, and she told him that she had seen from
her little window how her brothers had flown away over the
forest
in the shape of swans, and she showed him the feathers, which
they had let fall in the courtyard, and which she had picked up.
The king mourned, but he did not think that the queen had
done this wicked deed, and as he feared that the girl would
also be stolen away from him, he wanted to take her away with him.
But she was afraid of her step-mother, and entreated the king
to let her stay just this one night more in the forest castle.
The poor girl thought, I can no longer stay here. I will go
and seek my brothers. And when night came, she ran away, and
went straight into the forest. She walked the whole night long,
and next day also without stopping, until she could go no farther
for weariness. Then she saw a forest-hut, and went into it, and
found a room with six little beds, but she did not venture to
get into one of them, but crept under one, and lay down on the
hard ground, intending to pass the night there. Just before
sunset, however, she heard a rustling, and saw six swans come
flying in at the window. They alighted on the ground and blew
at each other, and blew all the feathers off, and their swans,
skins stripped off like a shirt. Then the maiden looked at them
and recognized her brothers, was glad and crept forth from beneath
the bed. The brothers were not less delighted to see their
little sister, but their joy was of short duration. Here you
cannot abide, they said to her. This is a shelter for robbers,
if they come home and find you, they will kill you. But can you
not protect me, asked the little sister. No, they replied, only
for one quarter of an hour each evening can we lay aside our
swans, skins and have during that time our human form, after
that, we are once more turned into swans.
The little sister
wept and said, can you not be set free. Alas, no, they answered,
the conditions are too hard. For six years you may neither
speak nor laugh, and in that time you must sew together six
little shirts of starwort for us. And if one single word falls
from your lips, all your work will be lost. And when the brothers
had said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they flew
out of the window again as swans.
The maiden, however, firmly resolved to deliver her brothers, even
if it should cost her her life. She left the hut, went into
the midst of the forest, seated herself on a tree, and there
passed the night. Next morning she went out and gathered starwort
and began to sew. She could not speak to anyone, and she had
no inclination to laugh, she sat there and looked at nothing
but her work.
When she had already spent a long time there it
came to pass that the king of the country was hunting in the
forest, and his huntsmen came to the tree on which the maiden
was sitting. They called to her and said, who are you. But
she made no answer. Come down to us, said they. We will not
do you any harm. She only shook her head. As they pressed her
further with questions she threw her golden necklace down to
them, and thought to content them thus. They, however, did
not cease, and then she threw her girdle down to them, and as
this also was to no purpose, her garters, and by degrees
everything that she had on that she could do without
until she had nothing left but her shift.
The huntsmen,
however, did not let themselves be turned aside by that, but
climbed the tree and fetched the maiden down and led her before
the king. The king asked, who are you. What are you doing on the
tree. But she did not answer. He put the question in every
language that he knew, but she remained as mute as a fish. As
she was so beautiful, the king’s heart was touched, and he was
smitten with a great love for her. He put his mantle on her,
took her before him on his horse, and carried her to his
castle. Then he caused her to be dressed in rich garments, and
she shone in her beauty like bright daylight, but no word
could be drawn from her. He placed her by his side at table, and
her modest bearing and courtesy pleased him so much that he said,
she is the one whom I wish to marry, and no other woman in the
world. And after some days he united himself to her.
The king, however, had a wicked mother who was dissatisfied
with this marriage and spoke ill of the young queen. Who knows,
said she, from whence the creature who can’t speak, comes.
She is not worthy of a king. After a year had passed, when
the queen brought her first child into the world, the old
woman took it away from her, and smeared her mouth with blood
as she slept. Then she went to the king and accused the queen
of being a man-eater. The king would not believe it, and would
not suffer anyone to do her any injury. She, however, sat
continually sewing at the shirts, and cared for nothing else.
The next time, when she again bore a beautiful boy, the false
mother-in-law used the same treachery, but the king could not
bring himself to give credit to her words. He said, she is
too pious and good to do anything of that kind, if she were not
dumb, and could defend herself, her innocence would come to light.
But when the old woman stole away the newly-born child for the
third time, and accused the queen, who did not utter one word
of defence, the king could do no otherwise than deliver her over
to justice, and she was sentenced to suffer death by fire.
When the day came for the sentence to be carried out, it was
the last day of the six years during which she was not to speak
or laugh, and she had delivered her dear brothers from the
power of the enchantment. The six shirts were ready, only the
left sleeve of the sixth was wanting. When, therefore, she was
led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm, and when she
stood on high and the fire was just going to be lighted, she
looked around and six swans came flying through the air towards
her. Then she saw that her deliverance was near, and her heart
leapt with joy. The swans swept towards her and sank down so that
they were touched by them, their swans, skins fell off, and her
brothers stood in their own bodily form before her, and were
vigorous and handsome. The youngest only lacked his left arm,
and had in the place of it a swan’s wing on his shoulder. They
embraced and kissed each other, and the queen went to the king,
who was greatly moved, and she began to speak and said, dearest
husband, now I may speak and declare to you that I am innocent,
and falsely accused. And she told him of the treachery of the
old woman who had taken away her three children and hidden them.
Then to the great joy of the king they were brought thither,
and as a punishment, the wicked mother-in-law was bound to
the stake, and burnt to ashes. But the king and the queen with
her six brothers lived many years in happiness and peace.
My Story
Map 2
Orono, in Penobscot County, lies on the west side of the Penobscot River, and adjoins Bangor on the western part of each. On the north it is bounded by Oldtown, south by Veazie and Bangor, west by Glenburn and east by Bradley. The river separates it from the last. The European and North American Railway passes through the town, connecting above with the Piscataquis branch. The powers are on the Penobscot and a tributary on the western “chute” of it, called Stillwater River. This stream receives the two streams of Birch and Pushaw Streams, the last being the outlet of Pushaw Lake on the north-western border. The area of this and connected lakes is about 12 square miles. The surface is generally quite even. The land along the Penobscot is very productive, but the quality deteriorates as it recedes from the river. A large proportion of the people arc engaged in agriculture. The village is at the mouth of the Stiliwater River. There are two considerable falls on this river in the town, and successive falls amounting to 31 feet on the western channel of the Penobscot between Ayer’s Island and the village, known as “Ayer’s Falls.” The mills upon the privilege are known as the “Basin Mills.” On this power are mills containing eight single saws, four gangs, two lath, two clapboard, one shingle, two rotary saws and a machine-shop. On the powers on Stiliwater River were (according to Well’s Water. Power of Maine), twenty-two singie saws, ten gangs, and five rotary saws; and twelve lath, three shingle and four clapboard mills, and two planing-machines, one machine-shop and one grist-mill. There are also a grist-mill and a match-factory. There is still a vast amount of unused water-power in the town. The Orono National Bank has a capital of $50,000. The Orono Savings Bank, at the opening of the last fiscal year held in deposits and profits $33,455.16. The village has something of the clutter usual to lumber towns, yet the houses are generally neat and attractive, and even elegant in some cases; while the streets are beautified by large numbers of elms and maples.
Floater
Orono was settled in 1774 by Jeremiah Colburn and Joshua Ayers, the State of Massachusetts being then owner of the township. John Marsh soon after settled on an island near the site of the pmesent village, from whom it bore the name of Marsh Island. The first white woman in the place was Miss Betsey Colburn, who came in 1774. The McPheters, Whites and Spencers were also early settlers. About 1808 came John Bennoch, a native of Scotland, and Andrew Webster, father of the late Col. E. Webster. These were the most active, enterprising lumber-men on the rIver, and had a large share in founding the present prosperity of the town. The plantation name was Stillwater. The present name is that of a distinguished chief of the Tarratine or Penobscot Indians, who dwelt here at the penod of the Revolution, rendering much service to the patriots. It was incorporated March 12, 1806, and then included the territory which now constitutes Oldtown. The latter was set off in 1840. The soil of this town consists of clay and sandy barns, and is very productive.
Hon. Israel Washburn, formerly a member of the national congress and governor of Maine, was subsequently a citizen of Orono. The Congregationalists, Methodists, Universalists and Catholics each have a church in the town. The number of public schoolhouses is eleven, and the value of the school property is $12,100. The village schools are graded, and include a good high school. The State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts is located about one mile from the village on the east bank of the Stiliwater River in a beautiful and commanding situation. The design of this institution is to give the young men of the State the advantages of a liberal education, by affording the student opportunity of applying practically the principles he learns in the classroom, and by his labor in this application to defray a portion of his expenses. The educational qualifications required for admission are such as might be obtained in any district school. The college has five courses, viz. :—in Agriculture, Civil Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Chemistry, and in Science and Literature. Full courses in any of these entitles a graduate to tha Bachelor’s Degree in that department. Three years after graduation, on presentation of the usual testimonials of proficiency, a full Degree is conferred. The number of students in 1880 was upwards of 100. It is a valuable institution to the people of Maine and deserves well at their hands. The valuation of Orono in 1870 was $523,888. In 1880 it was $512,624. The rate of taxation is 22 mills on a dollar. The population in 1870 was 2,888. In 1880 it was 2,245.
Red
Once Upon a Time…
Meet Red Riding Hood
Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by every one who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she gave her a little cap of red velvet, which suited her so well that she would never wear anything else. So she was always called Little Red Riding Hood.
One day her mother said to her, “Come, Little Red Riding Hood, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing. And when you go into her room, don’t forget to say, good-morning, and don’t peep into every corner before you do it.”
I will take great care, said Little Red Riding Hood to her mother, and gave her hand on it.
Meet The Wolf
The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just as Little Red Riding Hood entered the wood, a wolf met her. Little Red Riding Hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.
“Good-day, Little Red Riding Hood,” said he.
“Thank you kindly, wolf.”
“Whither away so early, Little Red Riding Hood?”
“To my grandmother’s.”
“What have you got in your apron?”
“Cake and wine. Yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger.”
“Where does your grandmother live, Little Red Riding Hood?”
“A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood. Her house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below. You surely must know it,” replied Little Red Riding Hood.
The wolf thought to himself, “What a tender young creature. What a nice plump mouthful, she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act craftily, so as to catch both.” So he walked for a short time by the side of Little Red Riding Hood, and then he said, “see Little Red Riding Hood, how pretty the flowers are about here. Why do you not look round. I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing. You walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is merry.”
Little Red Riding Hood raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, she thought, suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay. That would please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall still get there in good time. And so she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.
Meet the Grandmother
Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked at the door.
“Who is there?”
“Little Red Riding Hood,” replied the wolf. “She is bringing cake and wine. Open the door.”
“Lift the latch,” called out the grandmother, “I am too weak, and cannot get up.”
The wolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and without saying a word he went straight to the grandmother’s bed, and devoured her. Then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curtains.
Little Red Riding Hood, however, had been running about picking flowers, and when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she remembered her grandmother, and set out on the way to her.
She was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when she went into the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself, oh dear, how uneasy I feel to-day, and at other times I like being with grandmother so much.
She called out, “Good morning,” but received no answer.
So she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very strange.
“Oh, grandmother,” she said, “what big ears you have.”
“The better to hear you with, my child,” was the reply.
“But, grandmother, what big eyes you have,” she said.
“The better to see you with, my dear.”
“But, grandmother, what large hands you have.”
“The better to hug you with.”
“Oh, but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have.”
“The better to eat you with.”
She called out, “Good morning,” but received no answer. So she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very strange.
“Oh, grandmother,” she said, “what big ears you have.”
“The better to hear you with, my child,” was the reply.
“But, grandmother, what big eyes you have,” she said.
“The better to see you with, my dear.”
“But, grandmother, what large hands you have.”
“The better to hug you with.”
“Oh, but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have.”
“The better to eat you with.”
And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound he was out of bed and swallowed up Little Red Riding Hood.
Meet Huntsman
When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in the bed, fell asleep and began to snore very loud. The huntsman was just passing the house, and thought to himself, how the old woman is snoring. I must just see if she wants anything.
So he went into the room, and when he came to the bed, he saw that the wolf was lying in it. “Do I find you here, you old sinner,” said he. “I have long sought you.”
Then just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she might still be saved, so he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf.
When he had made two snips, he saw the Little Red Riding Hood shining, and then he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying, “Ah, how frightened I have been. How dark it was inside the wolf.”
And after that the aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe. Little Red Riding Hood, however, quickly fetched great stones with which they filled the wolf’s belly, and when he awoke, he wanted to run away, but the stones were so heavy that he collapsed at once, and fell dead.
Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf’s skin and went home with it. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine which Little Red Riding Hood had brought, and revived, but Little Red Riding Hood thought to herself, as long as I live, I will never by myself leave the path, to run into the wood, when my mother has forbidden me to do so.
It is also related that once when Little Red Riding Hood was again taking cakes to the old grandmother, another wolf spoke to her, and tried to entice her from the path. Little Red Riding Hood, however, was on her guard, and went straight forward on her way, and told her grandmother that she had met the wolf, and that he had said good-morning to her, but with such a wicked look in his eyes, that if they had not been on the public road she was certain he would have eaten her up. “Well,” said the grandmother, “we will shut the door, that he may not come in.”
Soon afterwards the wolf knocked, and cried, “open the door, grandmother, I am Little Red Riding Hood, and am bringing you some cakes.”
But they did not speak, or open the door, so the grey-beard stole twice or thrice round the house, and at last jumped on the roof, intending to wait until Little Red Riding Hood went home in the evening, and then to steal after her and devour her in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what was in his thoughts. In front of the house was a great stone trough, so she said to the child, take the pail, Little Red Riding Hood. I made some sausages yesterday, so carry the water in which I boiled them to the trough. Little Red Riding Hood carried until the great trough was quite full. Then the smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and peeped down, and at last stretched out his neck so far that he could no longer keep his footing and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof straight into the great trough, and was drowned. But Little Red Riding Hood went joyously home, and no one ever did anything to harm her again.
Road Home
Ever wonder if you can find your way home…
Continue readingYour Life is Mine
by Sarah Courtwright
timeline
2000
“Where do you want this box to go?”
Colby Callahan barely heard her brother’s question. She was lost in her own thoughts, staring at the childhood home that she swore she would never go back to.
“Hey,” Greg repeated, “Are you there? Where do you want this box?”
“My bedroom I guess” said Colby, snapping back into reality.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of space for it,” Greg smirked, “Mom and Dad never changed your room into a home gym like they wanted to. They knew you’d be moving back in soon.”
Colby gave her brother a nasty look. “Shut up” she told him.
She knew he was right, though. They kept her room exactly as it was two years ago when she went to college because they never believed she would finish. And they were right, she didn’t. Colby hated giving her parents the gratification of being right about her, but it wasn’t the first time.
Her whole life, Colby handed her parents one disappointment after another. She got kicked out of her private elementary school when she punched a boy on the kickball field for calling her “ugly”. She spent most of her formative years rebelling against her parents, her school, and basically any other force that was trying to make her “behave” like a well-brought up young lady. Then, at 22 years old, after waiting tables for 4 years and living with her parents, she decided to do something with her life. Colby applied to the University of Miami to pursue an engineering degree. To her and everyone else’s surprise, she was accepted.
But now, two short years later, she sits staring at her parent’s home back in Clearwater. How could this happen again? Why couldn’t she just pull herself together and make something of her life? Where does she go from here? These questions assaulted Colby’s thoughts the entire time we was carrying boxes filled with her mediocre possessions back into the home that she was so sure was not hers anymore.
“You should see if Texas Roadhouse will hire you back”, Colby’s mom, Ruth, said in a disappointed tone. “You are going to have to find some way to pay us rent.”
Ruth was always hyper-critical of Colby. A traditional woman, Ruth values normalcy; a nice house with a white picket fence and matching shutters, a husband who works full time as a kitchen appliance salesman, and two smart, well behaved children. She always resented the fact that she only got one of the two.
“Give her some time to settle in, Ruth” Benjamin, Colby’s father, chimed in, “We haven’t even gotten all the boxes inside yet and you’re rushing her off to her first shift.”
“The girl needs a kick in the ass, Ben. I won’t have her living in my house rent-free again. She is expected to contribute.” Ruth was never shy about saying hurtful things in front of her daughter.
2002
“Where do you want this box to go?”
Colby Callahan barely heard her brother’s question. She was lost in her own thoughts, staring at the childhood home that she swore she would never go back to.
“Hey,” Greg repeated, “Are you there? Where do you want this box?”
“My bedroom I guess” said Colby, snapping back into reality.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of space for it,” Greg smirked, “Mom and Dad never changed your room into a home gym like they wanted to. They knew you’d be moving back in soon.”
Colby gave her brother a nasty look. “Shut up” she told him.
She knew he was right, though. They kept her room exactly as it was two years ago when she went to college because they never believed she would finish. And they were right, she didn’t. Colby hated giving her parents the gratification of being right about her, but it wasn’t the first time.
Her whole life, Colby handed her parents one disappointment after another. She got kicked out of her private elementary school when she punched a boy on the kickball field for calling her “ugly”. She spent most of her formative years rebelling against her parents, her school, and basically any other force that was trying to make her “behave” like a well-brought up young lady. Then, at 22 years old, after waiting tables for 4 years and living with her parents, she decided to do something with her life. Colby applied to the University of Miami to pursue an engineering degree. To her and everyone else’s surprise, she was accepted.
But now, two short years later, she sits staring at her parent’s home back in Clearwater. How could this happen again? Why couldn’t she just pull herself together and make something of her life? Where does she go from here? These questions assaulted Colby’s thoughts the entire time we was carrying boxes filled with her mediocre possessions back into the home that she was so sure was not hers anymore.
“You should see if Texas Roadhouse will hire you back”, Colby’s mom, Ruth, said in a disappointed tone. “You are going to have to find some way to pay us rent.”
Ruth was always hyper-critical of Colby. A traditional woman, Ruth values normalcy; a nice house with a white picket fence and matching shutters, a husband who works full time as a kitchen appliance salesman, and two smart, well behaved children. She always resented the fact that she only got one of the two.
“Give her some time to settle in, Ruth” Benjamin, Colby’s father, chimed in, “We haven’t even gotten all the boxes inside yet and you’re rushing her off to her first shift.”
“The girl needs a kick in the ass, Ben. I won’t have her living in my house rent-free again. She is expected to contribute.” Ruth was never shy about saying hurtful things in front of her daughter.
2003
“Where do you want this box to go?”
Colby Callahan barely heard her brother’s question. She was lost in her own thoughts, staring at the childhood home that she swore she would never go back to.
“Hey,” Greg repeated, “Are you there? Where do you want this box?”
“My bedroom I guess” said Colby, snapping back into reality.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of space for it,” Greg smirked, “Mom and Dad never changed your room into a home gym like they wanted to. They knew you’d be moving back in soon.”
Colby gave her brother a nasty look. “Shut up” she told him.
She knew he was right, though. They kept her room exactly as it was two years ago when she went to college because they never believed she would finish. And they were right, she didn’t. Colby hated giving her parents the gratification of being right about her, but it wasn’t the first time.
Her whole life, Colby handed her parents one disappointment after another. She got kicked out of her private elementary school when she punched a boy on the kickball field for calling her “ugly”. She spent most of her formative years rebelling against her parents, her school, and basically any other force that was trying to make her “behave” like a well-brought up young lady. Then, at 22 years old, after waiting tables for 4 years and living with her parents, she decided to do something with her life. Colby applied to the University of Miami to pursue an engineering degree. To her and everyone else’s surprise, she was accepted.
But now, two short years later, she sits staring at her parent’s home back in Clearwater. How could this happen again? Why couldn’t she just pull herself together and make something of her life? Where does she go from here? These questions assaulted Colby’s thoughts the entire time we was carrying boxes filled with her mediocre possessions back into the home that she was so sure was not hers anymore.
“You should see if Texas Roadhouse will hire you back”, Colby’s mom, Ruth, said in a disappointed tone. “You are going to have to find some way to pay us rent.”
Ruth was always hyper-critical of Colby. A traditional woman, Ruth values normalcy; a nice house with a white picket fence and matching shutters, a husband who works full time as a kitchen appliance salesman, and two smart, well behaved children. She always resented the fact that she only got one of the two.
“Give her some time to settle in, Ruth” Benjamin, Colby’s father, chimed in, “We haven’t even gotten all the boxes inside yet and you’re rushing her off to her first shift.”
“The girl needs a kick in the ass, Ben. I won’t have her living in my house rent-free again. She is expected to contribute.” Ruth was never shy about saying hurtful things in front of her daughter.
2004
“Where do you want this box to go?”
Colby Callahan barely heard her brother’s question. She was lost in her own thoughts, staring at the childhood home that she swore she would never go back to.
“Hey,” Greg repeated, “Are you there? Where do you want this box?”
“My bedroom I guess” said Colby, snapping back into reality.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of space for it,” Greg smirked, “Mom and Dad never changed your room into a home gym like they wanted to. They knew you’d be moving back in soon.”
Colby gave her brother a nasty look. “Shut up” she told him.
She knew he was right, though. They kept her room exactly as it was two years ago when she went to college because they never believed she would finish. And they were right, she didn’t. Colby hated giving her parents the gratification of being right about her, but it wasn’t the first time.
Her whole life, Colby handed her parents one disappointment after another. She got kicked out of her private elementary school when she punched a boy on the kickball field for calling her “ugly”. She spent most of her formative years rebelling against her parents, her school, and basically any other force that was trying to make her “behave” like a well-brought up young lady. Then, at 22 years old, after waiting tables for 4 years and living with her parents, she decided to do something with her life. Colby applied to the University of Miami to pursue an engineering degree. To her and everyone else’s surprise, she was accepted.
But now, two short years later, she sits staring at her parent’s home back in Clearwater. How could this happen again? Why couldn’t she just pull herself together and make something of her life? Where does she go from here? These questions assaulted Colby’s thoughts the entire time we was carrying boxes filled with her mediocre possessions back into the home that she was so sure was not hers anymore.
“You should see if Texas Roadhouse will hire you back”, Colby’s mom, Ruth, said in a disappointed tone. “You are going to have to find some way to pay us rent.”
Ruth was always hyper-critical of Colby. A traditional woman, Ruth values normalcy; a nice house with a white picket fence and matching shutters, a husband who works full time as a kitchen appliance salesman, and two smart, well behaved children. She always resented the fact that she only got one of the two.
“Give her some time to settle in, Ruth” Benjamin, Colby’s father, chimed in, “We haven’t even gotten all the boxes inside yet and you’re rushing her off to her first shift.”
“The girl needs a kick in the ass, Ben. I won’t have her living in my house rent-free again. She is expected to contribute.” Ruth was never shy about saying hurtful things in front of her daughter.
Character
This post uses character components
Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated they live in Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language ocean. A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary regelialia. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Even the all-powerful Pointing has no control about the blind texts it is an almost unorthographic life One day however a small line of blind text by the name of Lorem Ipsum decided to leave for the far World of Grammar. The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way. When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then…
Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated they live in Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language ocean. A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary regelialia. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Even the all-powerful Pointing has no control about the blind texts it is an almost unorthographic life One day however a small line of blind text by the name of Lorem Ipsum decided to leave for the far World of Grammar. The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way. When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then
Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated they live in Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language ocean. A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary regelialia. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Even the all-powerful Pointing has no control about the blind texts it is an almost unorthographic life One day however a small line of blind text by the name of
I go where I love and where I am loved HD
Lorem Ipsum decided to leave for the far World of Grammar. The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way. When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then
Test Story
One subtitle one
“Where do you want this box to go?”
Colby Callahan barely heard her brother’s question. She was lost in her own thoughts, staring at the childhood home that she swore she would never go back to.
“Hey,” Greg repeated, “Are you there? Where do you want this box?”
“My bedroom I guess” said Colby, snapping back into reality.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of space for it,” Greg smirked, “Mom and Dad never changed your room into a home gym like they wanted to. They knew you’d be moving back in soon.”
Colby gave her brother a nasty look. “Shut up” she told him.
She knew he was right, though. They kept her room exactly as it was two years ago when she went to college because they never believed she would finish. And they were right, she didn’t. Colby hated giving her parents the gratification of being right about her, but it wasn’t the first time.
Her whole life, Colby handed her parents one disappointment after another. She got kicked out of her private elementary school when she punched a boy on the kickball field for calling her “ugly”. She spent most of her formative years rebelling against her parents, her school, and basically any other force that was trying to make her “behave” like a well-brought up young lady. Then, at 22 years old, after waiting tables for 4 years and living with her parents, she decided to do something with her life. Colby applied to the University of Miami to pursue an engineering degree. To her and everyone else’s surprise, she was accepted.
But now, two short years later, she sits staring at her parent’s home back in Clearwater. How could this happen again? Why couldn’t she just pull herself together and make something of her life? Where does she go from here? These questions assaulted Colby’s thoughts the entire time we was carrying boxes filled with her mediocre possessions back into the home that she was so sure was not hers anymore.
“You should see if Texas Roadhouse will hire you back”, Colby’s mom, Ruth, said in a disappointed tone. “You are going to have to find some way to pay us rent.”
Ruth was always hyper-critical of Colby. A traditional woman, Ruth values normalcy; a nice house with a white picket fence and matching shutters, a husband who works full time as a kitchen appliance salesman, and two smart, well behaved children. She always resented the fact that she only got one of the two.
“Give her some time to settle in, Ruth” Benjamin, Colby’s father, chimed in, “We haven’t even gotten all the boxes inside yet and you’re rushing her off to her first shift.”
“The girl needs a kick in the ass, Ben. I won’t have her living in my house rent-free again. She is expected to contribute.” Ruth was never shy about saying hurtful things in front of her daughter.
Colby wanted to give a snarky reply, but what’s the use. Those kinds of remarks won’t stop, especially now that she has another failed venture under her belt.
Benjamin Callahan was a gentle man. He had a soft spot for his only daughter; unlike his wife, he didn’t take satisfaction in being right about her failure. He desperately wanted her to succeed, but when she didn’t, he wasn’t too surprised. Still, Ben feels the need to protect his daughter, even if it’s from the words of his own wife.
“She will do just fine,” Benjamin retorted, “she knows what is expected.”
“She knew what was expected of her in college too but she still couldn’t manage to pass” Greg said as he lifted another box to bring inside.
Greg was the antithesis of Colby. He was intelligent; not that Colby wasn’t, but he knew how to use his intelligence to survive in the real world, a skill Colby had not yet mastered. Greg graduated at the top of his class in high school, without incident. He achieved a law degree from Columbia Law last spring and was now in the process of buying a home down the street from his parents. To Ruth and Benjamin, Greg was their golden child. He was the standard to which Colby had been judged all her life – and he knew it.
What neither Greg nor Ruth and Benjamin knew was that Colby did not fail out of college. She was a straight A student on her way to a 4.0 GPA. Leaving college was never about the grades for her, that was only a story that she told her family. She knew they would never forgive her for dropping out of college because engineering didn’t make her happy. It didn’t leave her feeling fulfilled or enthusiastic about her future, so she left. It was better that her parents think she just couldn’t make the cut, rather than that she could, and she chose not to.
“I’m right here, guys” Colby muttered in a quiet, somber voice as she picked up another box.
Two subtitle two
In the coming weeks, Colby managed to stay relatively under her parent’s radar. As advised by her mother, she was able to get her serving job back, and it was almost like the last two years hadn’t even happened. The dust had settled, and everything was business as usual in the Callahan household.
Arriving at her shift on Tuesday night, Colby immediately noticed a strange vibe in the restaurant. The place was completely dead, which wasn’t unusual for a Tuesday, but her coworkers would normally be hard at work preparing the restaurant for the dinner rush – not tonight. Everyone had a strange, glazed look in their eyes, as if a spirit had walked into the door and asked for a table for three.
“What’s going on?” Colby asked her coworker, Christy. “What’s up with the energy in here right now?”
Christy was hesitant to answer. It was almost as if the words to describe what she saw were escaping her. “It’s Adam. He’s in the hospital.”
“Adam? Oh god, what did he do to himself now?” Colby knew that Adam, another server, was famous for being clumsy and visiting the ER every so often after an accident on the job, but it was never as serious as this seemed to be.
“No, Colby, you don’t understand,” She shuttered, “something happened. Adam was… attacked.”
Colby was taken back by how Christy seemed to choke out that word – attacked. She waited for Christy to continue.
After a pause, Christy started. “It was during the lunch shift. Adam noticed a man just kind of wandering aimlessly around the parking lot. He was chasing birds and squirrels and stuff… so weird. There were no managers in yet so Adam decided to go out and ask this guy what his deal was, if he needed help, whatever, you know?”
Christy’s voice got high. It was obvious she was on the verge of tears again, but she collected herself and continued.
“The guy bit him, Colby. I don’t know why, he just… he bit him. Took a huge chunk out of his arm, and he wouldn’t stop. Adam ran towards us, screaming like crazy… he came back into the restaurant, and we locked the doors. The guy was chasing after him! He didn’t stop banging at the door until we all went into the back room where he couldn’t see us. We called 911 and they took Adam in an ambulance.”
Colby couldn’t gather her thoughts quick enough to reply. Adam got bit? What? Apparently her face said it all, because Christy just shook her head as if to say she understood what Colby was feeling, before she burst into tears again and came in for a hug.
Finally, Colby found her voice again. “Did someone call the police? Did they find the guy?”
“We don’t know,” Christy replied, “the police said they would look for the guy, but they were so vague and weird about it… like they were hiding something that they knew and we didn’t.”
“That can’t be,” Colby uttered, “I’m sure they were just shocked by the whole thing. We all are.”
“Yeah… probably. Well, Angela called corporate and asked if we could close the restaurant for the night after all this, give people a chance to calm down. They said no. Can you believe that?”
“Yeah,” Colby laughed, “I can.”
The two shared a chuckle, and went on with the night.
Three subtitle three
“Hey, wake up.”
“What?”
“Wake up! We’re going outside.”
Colby opened her eyes to see Greg sitting at the foot of her bed.
“It’s my day off,” she told him, “go away.”
“Come on, I want to talk to you. Let’s go.”
Colby begrudgingly got out of her bed and got dressed to go for a walk. It was a cool autumn day, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t glad to finally get to see the orange foliage in the daytime, thanks to all the night shifts she had been working – even if she was forced to see it at eight in the morning.
Greg wasted no time getting to the point – he never did. “I wanted to talk to you about your future.”
“What future” Colby said flatly.
“Come on, don’t be like that. We both know you can’t live with mom and dad for the rest of your life. You need a plan. One that you can actually succeed at.”
Colby ignored the dig, looking at her feet and kicking acorns along the way. She was silent.
“There’s an opening at my firm for a secretary. I know it’s not ideal, and you will be forced to wear work-appropriate clothing…”
Another dig.
“…but I think it would be good for you.”
Colby didn’t hesitate with her reply. “You know me, Greg. I screw everything up. The whole place will burn down if you allow me to file documents for you.”
“I can’t believe you’re not even willing to-“
Greg cut himself off and stopped walking. It took Colby a moment to realize he had stopped. She looked up from her feet to see what had stopped him short.
A man was on his knees, in front of what looked to be the body of a neighborhood dog. Both were covered in blood.
Greg leaned in and whispered to Colby, “What is he doing? Do you think he’s okay?”
Colby said nothing. She stood, watching the man tear the dog apart. He was eating it. Instantly, she remembered what happened to Adam.
“We need to go home, now” She warned.
“What? No! I think he needs our help. It looks like his dog was hit by a car. Sir! Are you okay? Should I call someone? Sir!”
“Greg, shut up. We have to go, now.”
Colby didn’t know what instinct she was feeling, but she knew that they have to escape this situation – and fast.
Greg ignored her. He jogged toward the man. “Sir, did your dog get hit? Is he alive?”
The man slowly turned his head toward Greg. His eyes were milky and white, absent of color. His skin was pale, almost rotted. He was missing an ear.
Before Greg could react, the man was on his feet. He lunged at Greg. Wide-eyed, greg backpedaled out of the man’s reach. He pleaded with the man to stop.
Suddenly a rush came over Colby. Her heart began to beat and her mind raced, giving her directions to save her brother. She bursted into a sprint toward the man, grabbing a rake from the yard the man had slain the dog on. Colby ran up to the man from behind and hit the man as hard as she could in the head with the rake, while simultaneously screaming to Greg to run home. The spears of the rake went through the man’s skull – she didn’t mean to puncture him in such a way, but it felt as though his skull was soft and easy to pierce, as if he had been dead for some time before the blow. She let go of the rake, as both he and it fell to the ground. Greg took her advise and sped off, and she followed after him.
The two got back to the Callahan residence and slammed the door.
Before they could speak about what happened, Benjamin hurriedly approached them. “Are you two okay? Has anyone bitten you?”
Greg was confused by the question, but Colby knew what he was asking.
“Bitten? What are you talking about? Colby just killed a guy!”
Colby and Ben then shared a look, conveying that they both understood what Colby just did – and why.
“She didn’t kill him, son. He was already dead.”
At that moment Greg noticed his mother, crying in front of the television in the living room. He could hear the reporter detailing other instances similar to what they just saw. He pushed by his father to wrap his mother up in a hug and watch the news coverage. Together they listened to the newscaster struggle to explain what was happening.
It would seem as though the dead have risen up to eat the living. There are countless reports coming in of folks checking on their neighbors, only to be attacked by a corpse attempting to eat their flesh. The military has deployed almost all of the troops from all branches stationed in the continental United States to cities and towns all over the country in an attempt to contain this epidemic. Please, do not leave your homes. Do not let anyone inside your house. Stay calm. The military will be coming to save you shortly.
Four subtitle four
They never came.
Three months came and went without any sign of military intervention. Colby knew better than to believe that her family would be saved, anyway. They were on their own from the beginning. The Callahan’s had survived by rationing what food they had left in their house, and scavenging around the area. Colby did all of the scavenging – no one else was capable of doing it without incident. Ironically, it seemed as though the natural progression of the situation had put Colby in a leadership position. She had an undeniably instinct about how to keep herself and her family alive, and her parents had grown to look to her for guidance.
Greg, however, was a different story. Jealousy had overcome him; the leadership role had been his since he reached adulthood. In an attempt to usurp power from his sister, Greg had been constantly undermining her decisions for the past three months – on some occasions, at incredible risk to the group.
1900
“Okay,” Colby addressed her family, “we’re running low on water. As soon as the sun comes up we need to go down to the quarry. Greg, come with me. It’s a long walk, no one should be walking that far alone.”
“Mom and dad should come too. The more people we have to carry water back the better. We won’t have to make the trip as often.” Colby shot Greg a look for his suggestion – he knew their parents would not do well with such a long, tiring trip.
1925
“It’s best that you and I go alone. We’re faster.” Colby replied definitively. Her tone indicated that this would be the end of the discussion. Greg said nothing.
At 6:05 in the morning, the sun rose, and with it, Colby. She had gotten in the habit of getting up early since the world had ended. These days it seemed as though the days were shorter than ever before, now that survival was at stake. She grabbed her pack full of survival gear, put her dagger in her holster, and headed outside to wait for Greg. To her surprise, her parents stood and Greg stood waiting for her instead.
“Greg, we agreed-“
“They’re coming” he interrupted.
“No.”
Greg turned around and motioned for his parents to walk with him, ignoring his sister’s command. Colby was toward the end of her rope with his behavior. She begrudgingly made her way to the front of the group, enraged at Greg once again.
The majority of the seven mile trip spent in silence. By early afternoon, they reached the quarry. Having already developed an effective system to extract water from the quarry with little risk, Colby explained to her parents.
“We want to avoid getting in the water at all costs, we don’t know what is in there and we don’t want to find out. Taking turns dipping the jugs into the water off of that narrow ledge is the safest way to do this. We will carry the water home and boil it to get rid of any bacteria that may be in it.”
“Not fast enough.”
Colby was surprised at how easily three words had lit a fire inside her stomach. Furious, she wiped around to Greg.
“Safety is the number one priority, Greg. Or do you want this family to die?”
“The more time we spend getting the water the earlier we will get back. I won’t have you getting us all killed in the dark when we don’t get back in time. It’s time someone put you in your place.” Greg’s eyes did not leave Colby’s the entire time he spoke.
“My place,” she said, rage enveloping her voice, “is as the leader of this group. You have no idea what the hell you’re doing. I won’t let you make any more stupid decisions, that’s all over.”
Silence. Greg’s eyes narrowed on her. Neither of them moved or blinked for several moments. Suddenly, he grabbed his mother’s arm so hard she instinctively shrieked. He dragged her into the shallow water with him.
“Come on. We’re getting water – the right way.”
1950
“Please, Greg, stop, you’re hurting-“ Ruth was interrupted by her own stumble and she tripped and fell into the water.
Before Colby had the chance to physically take over the situation, she was drowned out by the screams of her mother. A sight that she had been fighting against for months was suddenly happening right in front of her – a corpse was buried in the silt, and when Ruth landed on it, it latched onto her arm. Colby watched as a living dead monster consumed her mother’s bicep.
Again, her instincts took over. Colby jumped into the water, drove her dagger through the corpse’s skull, and dragged her mother out of the quarry. By now Ruth had passed out from the shock of what had happened to her.
“Dad!” She screamed. “Hatchet – NOW!”
Benjamin stumbled through his pack to find the hatchet and give it to Colby. There was only one way to stop the infection; she had to cut off her mother’s arm. Colby raised the hatchet, pausing only for a moment to grasp the severity of what she was about to do, and finally brought it down as hard as she could just below Ruth’s shoulder.
“We have to get her indoors, somewhere with clean sheets… We… We need to keep the wound covered…” It was hard to stay strong after having done what she just did.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” an all too familiar voice echoed, “you just disfigured our mother, you’re a psychopath!”
1975
Out of patience, and out of time, Colby wiped the tears from her face, incidentally covering her face in blood. She rose to her feet and faced her brother. They shared a fiery gaze. Greg snapped. He came at Colby, tackling her to the ground. He began punching her over and over again. Colby held her own, and began choking her brother. She had no intention of killing him, but she couldn’t stop herself – this was a long time coming. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greg grasp his knife from its holster on his hip. He took it out and swung it at her, aiming for her head, but slicing the back of her shoulder instead.
Colby now had no choice. Her own brother had gotten his mother bitten, and was now actively trying to kill her. She reached for her dagger. With Greg pinned to the ground, she put her hand on his forehead, shoved the back of his head into the dirt, and drove her dagger through his temple. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he realized what had happened. As quickly as it began, it was over. Greg was dead. Colby had murdered her own brother.
Benjamin watched the entire situation unravel in front of his eyes, helpless to stop neither his wife, nor his children, defend themselves against the attacks that had transpired. He didn’t know whether to continue tending to his wife’s wound, or go to his son who lay dead on the ground only a few feet away. He stayed in place, silently sobbing, thanking God that his wife hadn’t seen what just happened.
Colby stared blankly at her brother’s lifeless body. For a moment, it felt as though she was in a dream. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t considered taking out the largest threat to the group, her own brother – but she doubted it would get to that point. Until now.
Covered in blood and dirt, Colby stood up. She choked, “we have to dress her wound. Let’s go.”
Wordless, Benjamin nodded his head, still in tears. He and Colby lifted Ruth up, and silently headed toward the nearest town.
TinyHouse 2
Andrew and Gabriella Morrison live in Oregon and have two teenage kids, 18-year-old Paiute and 14-year-old Terra. They made the decision to downsize their home four years ago. They now live in a 207-square-foot house with an additional 110 square feet of sleeping lofts. Although their son, Paiute, no longer lives at home, Terra lives in the tiny house full time with her parents. The Morrisons both work in straw bale construction, and run the website Strawbale.com.
TinyHouse 1
Transitioning from their 1,900-square-foot home into a 207-square-foot tiny house
Continue readingMap Sample
Orono, in Penobscot County, lies on the west side of the Penobscot River, and adjoins Bangor on the western part of each. On the north it is bounded by Oldtown, south by Veazie and Bangor, west by Glenburn and east by Bradley. The river separates it from the last. The European and North American Railway passes through the town, connecting above with the Piscataquis branch. The powers are on the Penobscot and a tributary on the western “chute” of it, called Stillwater River. This stream receives the two streams of Birch and Pushaw Streams, the last being the outlet of Pushaw Lake on the north-western border. The area of this and connected lakes is about 12 square miles. The surface is generally quite even. The land along the Penobscot is very productive, but the quality deteriorates as it recedes from the river. A large proportion of the people arc engaged in agriculture. The village is at the mouth of the Stiliwater River. There are two considerable falls on this river in the town, and successive falls amounting to 31 feet on the western channel of the Penobscot between Ayer’s Island and the village, known as “Ayer’s Falls.” The mills upon the privilege are known as the “Basin Mills.” On this power are mills containing eight single saws, four gangs, two lath, two clapboard, one shingle, two rotary saws and a machine-shop. On the powers on Stiliwater River were (according to Well’s Water. Power of Maine), twenty-two singie saws, ten gangs, and five rotary saws; and twelve lath, three shingle and four clapboard mills, and two planing-machines, one machine-shop and one grist-mill. There are also a grist-mill and a match-factory. There is still a vast amount of unused water-power in the town. The Orono National Bank has a capital of $50,000. The Orono Savings Bank, at the opening of the last fiscal year held in deposits and profits $33,455.16. The village has something of the clutter usual to lumber towns, yet the houses are generally neat and attractive, and even elegant in some cases; while the streets are beautified by large numbers of elms and maples.
Orono was settled in 1774 by Jeremiah Colburn and Joshua Ayers, the State of Massachusetts being then owner of the township. John Marsh soon after settled on an island near the site of the pmesent village, from whom it bore the name of Marsh Island. The first white woman in the place was Miss Betsey Colburn, who came in 1774. The McPheters, Whites and Spencers were also early settlers. About 1808 came John Bennoch, a native of Scotland, and Andrew Webster, father of the late Col. E. Webster. These were the most active, enterprising lumber-men on the rIver, and had a large share in founding the present prosperity of the town. The plantation name was Stillwater. The present name is that of a distinguished chief of the Tarratine or Penobscot Indians, who dwelt here at the penod of the Revolution, rendering much service to the patriots. It was incorporated March 12, 1806, and then included the territory which now constitutes Oldtown. The latter was set off in 1840. The soil of this town consists of clay and sandy barns, and is very productive.
Hon. Israel Washburn, formerly a member of the national congress and governor of Maine, was subsequently a citizen of Orono. The Congregationalists, Methodists, Universalists and Catholics each have a church in the town. The number of public schoolhouses is eleven, and the value of the school property is $12,100. The village schools are graded, and include a good high school. The State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts is located about one mile from the village on the east bank of the Stiliwater River in a beautiful and commanding situation. The design of this institution is to give the young men of the State the advantages of a liberal education, by affording the student opportunity of applying practically the principles he learns in the classroom, and by his labor in this application to defray a portion of his expenses. The educational qualifications required for admission are such as might be obtained in any district school. The college has five courses, viz. :—in Agriculture, Civil Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Chemistry, and in Science and Literature. Full courses in any of these entitles a graduate to tha Bachelor’s Degree in that department. Three years after graduation, on presentation of the usual testimonials of proficiency, a full Degree is conferred. The number of students in 1880 was upwards of 100. It is a valuable institution to the people of Maine and deserves well at their hands. The valuation of Orono in 1870 was $523,888. In 1880 it was $512,624. The rate of taxation is 22 mills on a dollar. The population in 1870 was 2,888. In 1880 it was 2,245.
Orono, in Penobscot County, lies on the west side of the Penobscot River, and adjoins Bangor on the western part of each. On the north it is bounded by Oldtown, south by Veazie and Bangor, west by Glenburn and east by Bradley. The river separates it from the last. The European and North American Railway passes through the town, connecting above with the Piscataquis branch. The powers are on the Penobscot and a tributary on the western “chute” of it, called Stillwater River. This stream receives the two streams of Birch and Pushaw Streams, the last being the outlet of Pushaw Lake on the north-western border. The area of this and connected lakes is about 12 square miles. The surface is generally quite even. The land along the Penobscot is very productive, but the quality deteriorates as it recedes from the river. A large proportion of the people arc engaged in agriculture. The village is at the mouth of the Stiliwater River. There are two considerable falls on this river in the town, and successive falls amounting to 31 feet on the western channel of the Penobscot between Ayer’s Island and the village, known as “Ayer’s Falls.” The mills upon the privilege are known as the “Basin Mills.” On this power are mills containing eight single saws, four gangs, two lath, two clapboard, one shingle, two rotary saws and a machine-shop. On the powers on Stiliwater River were (according to Well’s Water. Power of Maine), twenty-two singie saws, ten gangs, and five rotary saws; and twelve lath, three shingle and four clapboard mills, and two planing-machines, one machine-shop and one grist-mill. There are also a grist-mill and a match-factory. There is still a vast amount of unused water-power in the town. The Orono National Bank has a capital of $50,000. The Orono Savings Bank, at the opening of the last fiscal year held in deposits and profits $33,455.16. The village has something of the clutter usual to lumber towns, yet the houses are generally neat and attractive, and even elegant in some cases; while the streets are beautified by large numbers of elms and maples.
Orono was settled in 1774 by Jeremiah Colburn and Joshua Ayers, the State of Massachusetts being then owner of the township. John Marsh soon after settled on an island near the site of the pmesent village, from whom it bore the name of Marsh Island. The first white woman in the place was Miss Betsey Colburn, who came in 1774. The McPheters, Whites and Spencers were also early settlers. About 1808 came John Bennoch, a native of Scotland, and Andrew Webster, father of the late Col. E. Webster. These were the most active, enterprising lumber-men on the rIver, and had a large share in founding the present prosperity of the town. The plantation name was Stillwater. The present name is that of a distinguished chief of the Tarratine or Penobscot Indians, who dwelt here at the penod of the Revolution, rendering much service to the patriots. It was incorporated March 12, 1806, and then included the territory which now constitutes Oldtown. The latter was set off in 1840. The soil of this town consists of clay and sandy barns, and is very productive.
Hon. Israel Washburn, formerly a member of the national congress and governor of Maine, was subsequently a citizen of Orono. The Congregationalists, Methodists, Universalists and Catholics each have a church in the town. The number of public schoolhouses is eleven, and the value of the school property is $12,100. The village schools are graded, and include a good high school. The State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts is located about one mile from the village on the east bank of the Stiliwater River in a beautiful and commanding situation. The design of this institution is to give the young men of the State the advantages of a liberal education, by affording the student opportunity of applying practically the principles he learns in the classroom, and by his labor in this application to defray a portion of his expenses. The educational qualifications required for admission are such as might be obtained in any district school. The college has five courses, viz. :—in Agriculture, Civil Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Chemistry, and in Science and Literature. Full courses in any of these entitles a graduate to tha Bachelor’s Degree in that department. Three years after graduation, on presentation of the usual testimonials of proficiency, a full Degree is conferred. The number of students in 1880 was upwards of 100. It is a valuable institution to the people of Maine and deserves well at their hands. The valuation of Orono in 1870 was $523,888. In 1880 it was $512,624. The rate of taxation is 22 mills on a dollar. The population in 1870 was 2,888. In 1880 it was 2,245.