From professional translators, enterprises, web pages and freely available translation repositories.
[narrator] Once upon the last day
of a golden summer,
there was a boy... and bear.
The boy, whom we shall meet in
a moment, was called Christopher Robin.
The bear was called Winnie the Pooh.
And together they had many
grand adventures in a remarkable place
called the Hundred Acre Wood.
But the grandest and most extraordinary
of all their adventures
was still to begin.
T oday, I believe, is a good day
for being Pooh.
And here, I should say,
is a good place for being Pooh.
Any reason that I think of
is a good one for being Pooh.
But the very best reason of all is...
[boy] Pooh Bear.
...being with my very best friend,
You are just in time
for the best part of the day.
What part is that?
The part when you and me...
there's something I have to tell you.
Is it something nice?
Then it can wait.
It can? For how Iong?
For ever and ever.
# For ever and ever
# Is a very long time, Pooh
[chuckles] # Forever isn't long at all
# When I'm with you [laughs]
# I wanna call your name forever
# And you will always answer forever
# And both of us will be
Forever you and me
# For ever and ever
# I wanna stay like this forever
# If only I could promise forever
# Then we could just be we
# Forever you and me
[both] # For ever and ever
# For ever and ever
# Is a very long time, Pooh
# Forever isn't long at all, Christopher
# When I'm with you
# I wanna be with you forever
[echoes] # I want you right here
beside me forever
# One thing you should know
# No matter where I go
# We'll always be together
# For ever and ever #
[narrator] And so they stayed together,
doing all the things
a boy and a bear could do.
And when the day began to end,
Christopher Robin had quite forgotten
he still had something to tell Pooh.
[Christopher] Pooh Bear,
there's one thing we didn't do today.
[Pooh] And what thing might that be?
[Christopher] Uh... nothing.
what exactly is "doing nothing"?
Well, I'm told it means
going along, Iistening to
all of the things you can't hear,
and not bothering.
It's when people say
"What are you two doing?"
And we say "Oh, nothing."
And we do it.
This is sort of a nothing thing
we're doing right now.
I wish it could Iast forever.
Well, then we must do it again tomorrow.
And the tomorrow after.
And the tomorrow following that.
Pooh Bear,... what if... some day...
there came a tomorrow
when we were apart?
As Iong as we're apart together
we shall certainly be fine.
[chuckles] Yes, yes, of course.
But if we weren't together?
If I were somewhere else?
[chuckles] But you really couldn't be,
as I would be quite Iost without you.
Who would I call...
...on those days
when I'm just not strong enough,
or brave enough?
And who would I ask for advice
when I didn't know which way to turn?
We... We simply wouldn't be.
If ever there's a tomorrow
when we're not together,
there's something you must remember.
[yawns] And what might that be,
You're braver than you believe,
and stronger than you seem,
and smarter than you think.
[chuckles] Oh, that's easy.
We are braver than a bee,
and, uh, Ionger than a tree,
and taller than a goose.
Or was that a moose?
No, silly old bear.
You're braver than you believe,
and stronger than you seem...
and smarter than you think.
But the most important thing is...
even if we're apart...
I'II always be with you.
I'II always be with you.
[echoing] AIways be with you.
Braver than our beans.
Longer when we gleam.
Hum dee duh de dum.
Hm dee duh-duh dee.
Hello, Christopher Robin.
I can't seem to remember the...
To remember the, uh,...
It is. It's the first day of autumn.
A time of hot-chocolaty mornings
and toasty-marshmallow evenings.
And best of all.... Ieaping into Ieaves.
Oh, someone's Ieft a honey pot.
AII alone and Ionely.
[groans] With no one to care for it.
I should take it.
AIthough it might belong to someone.
Though, just as easily not.
Think, think. Think.
I believe when a question becomes
I should ask my very good friend...
[echoing] Christopher Robin.
Are you here?
Are you there?
Are you... anywhere?
Piglet! Christopher Robin is gone.
Why, Piglet, whatever are you doing...
I'm doing just what Christopher Robin
said I should do.
I'm going to Iook my fear of heights
right in the face and conquer it.
That is, if it doesn't conquer me first.
Are you Iooking for him, too?
Hiya, Pooh! [chuckles]
- What's up?
- Hello, Tigger.
Piglet... is up.
Oh, relax, Piglet, old pal.
There's no difference between plunging
1 0,000 feet to the jagged rocks below
and tumblin' out of bed.
Why, sure! [Iaughs]
Except for the splat at the end
they're practic'Iy similar.
CIutched in the throes of terror, eh?
Well, I guess I just better
bounce up there and get him down.
Stand back, this is gonna take
a world's record bounce.
What's the matter with you?
Being a second-rate bouncer
is not what tiggers Iike best.
It doesn't matter
if you think you're not ripe.
This is Rabbit's garden, and Rabbit
does his harvesting by the book.
As it clearly says
in the official almanac,
"Today is... [clears throat]
the first day of fall
following the Iast day of summer."
Oh, yes, the rutabaga in the back row,
[Pooh] Hello, Rabbit.
Not much of a house.
Just right for not much of a donkey.
Easy come,... easy go.
Excuse me, Rabbit,...
but would you happen to have a...
a, um,... Christopher Robin about you?
No! I haven't seen him.
- He isn't where he should be.
- And wasn't where we were.
- And seems not to be anywhere...
...where he can tell me
whose honey this is.
Well, it isn't mine.
And I don't have time. It's harvest day!
Says so in the book!
I have carrots to cut, pumpkins to pick,
peas to pluck!
Well, of course it's mine.
It's got my name scribbled all over it.
T-I double g...
Tiggers do not Iike honey.
It isn't mine.
Then again, few things are.
[grunts and groans]
If only I could find Christopher Robin.
He could tell me whose it is.
Why don't you check the note
and find out?
Why, Rabbit, how clever of you.
I'II just read it.
if I could.
Perhaps you can, Rabbit.
[harrumphs] I could read this
with my eyes closed.
It says... [clears throat]
Well, I could have read it
if Tigger hadn't bounced me so.
"Dear Pooh" it begins.
"Worry about me."
"I'm going far away."
"Help!" And the note is signed
[chuckles] Oh, Christopher Robin.
Gone far away?
Oh, what a frightful thought.
Wait! Why? When?
Who authorized it?
Where will we get the strength...
to go on without him?
[Pooh] Christopher Robin.
My very best best friend.
It simply cannot be.
Whatever will I do?
I wonder, Pooh, if... if perhaps
u-u-until Christopher Robin gets back...
um... I might possibly be your...
best best friend.
And when Piglet gets sick of you...
[sobs] we can take over.
Oh, thank you.
But you already are
the very best of my best friends.
You see, you and I can do anything.
But only Christopher Robin and I
Poor guy. His very Iittle brain
is half gone with grief.
Ah-ha! I've discovered where he went.
An O, another O, and...
[gasps] Oh, my.
What is it, Owl? Where is it?
Somewhere bad, I fear.
On a scale of one to ten...
It's not good.
He has gone to S-C-H-O-O-L.
What sort of place is that?
Well, from the very sound of it,
one can tell it's a most forbidding
and faraway place.
Then we must help Christopher Robin.
Help him get back... to here.
Then it's a quest, is it? [Iaughs]
That's the spirit.
Hoo, the nobility of it.
A Iong and dangerous journey
through the Great Unknown.
Of course, you'II need a map.
Oh, Owl,... you wouldn't suppose
we'd meet any, uh...
Oh, thank you, I nearly forgot.
Herds of Heffalumps.
Down here I fancy, in the... southeast
corner of the far west portion.
W-w-what about W-w-woozles?
- Hoo-hoo, just a dozen or three.
Here, there and yonder.
Not to mention the fabled... [chuckles]
Oh, come, come, come.
Without a monster or two
it's hardly a quest.
Merely a gaggle of friends
Hoo-hoo-hoo, how I envy you.
Not everyone has the chance
to face the unspeakable terrors
of the Great Unknown.
# Today's the day
# In only a matter of moments
You'll all be on your way
# What lurks around the corner
Not a soul can say
# But I can guess
# More or less
# Hidden dangers, great duress
# Ah, the moment of glory
Is close at hand
# Hoo-wee, it's gonna be grand
# Adventure is a wonderful thing
# Pack only the essentials
I'll tell you what to bring
# Your strength, your nerve
Your hearts, your wits
# And for skullasaurus attacks
# Adventure is a hoot and a half
# You'll face unearthly dangers
And look at them and laugh
# The claws, the teeth
The chase, the thrill
# You'll never want to come home
Maybe you never will
# That's the beauty of adventure
It's strictly sink or float
# It runs you till you're ragged
Then it grabs you by the throat
# You'll struggle to survive
Although the chances are remote
# Hoo-hoo, lucky you
Wish I was coming too
# Adventure is a wonderful thing
I almost forgot the very best part.
You not only save your friend from
the most dangerous place, namely Skull,
but from the most dangerous part
of the most dangerous place.
The eye of the skull itself.
# And you, General Pooh
# Off you go
Marching high and low
# Your friend waits at the end
# Right here
# Take a look
The map is perfectly clear
# With your excellent sense of direction
You've nothing to fear
# Through the quicksand and the chasms
# Tempting fate and fighting spasms
# Dodging avalanching boulders
# Christopher Robin's fate
Rests completely on your shoulders, Pooh
# It's up to you
# That's the beauty of adventure
# The trembling and the dread
# I can't think of another thing
I'd rather do instead
Perhaps you could join us?
# No, no, you go ahead
# Hoo-hoo, lucky you
Tally-ho and toodle-oo
# Ready now? Noble chin
Chest out, tummy in
# Make a fracas, have a fling
# Drop a postcard, give a ring
# Get the lead out, time to swing
# Whoop-de-doo and ba-da-bing
# Is a wonderful thing #
I salute you. And those of you doomed
to never return, I salute you twice.
[narrator] And so Pooh and his friends
into... well, that part
of the Hundred Acre Wood
which Owl called the "Great Unknown. "
It was the start of their quest
for Christopher Robin.
They would find him, Owl said,
if they could get through the woods.
For the woods, Owl said,
were filled with Heffalumps...
and... who knew how much worse?
"The Upside Down Rock."
"If you've made it this far...
you're where... monsters... are."
What was that?
Sounded too hungry for a Heffalump.
Too plump for a Jagular.
I'd say it's a... big old...
buggy-eyed, saber-toothy skullasaurus.
- Which way do we run?
- Where do we hide?
What's the shortest shortcut home?
I believe... that way is a good way.
AIthough, this way could be better.
[Tigger] Give me a break!
- If not over here.
- [all scream]
AIthough... [chuckles] there
might be particularly pleasant as well.
We're getting nowhere fast, Pooh,
and that just won't do.
A Ieader must be someone Ieaderly,
- [Iouder growling]
Anyone with half a set of smarts
can see we Iose the beast
by cutting across this Iovely meadow.
And a Iovely meadow it is.
[gasps] Why, Iook.
Is that a golden dahlia-daffodilus?
Rare for this Iocation.
What exactly is this Iocation, Rabbit?
And might it be nearer Christopher Robin
Why, we're right here,
on course, of course.
Where else w-would we be?
Owl, where are we?
"Nice peeceful spot!" Ha! Indeed!
- Oh, d-d-dear.
This is not the place for a small
and frightfully fearful animal...
such as myself.
Thanks for noticing.
Yes, well, uh,
precisely why I chose it.
No skullasauruses would dare
follow us in here. [chuckles]
Piglet! Come back!
I can't Iose you, too.
- [butterfly squeaks]
- [Pooh] Oh, my, my.
I believe you've made a friend, Piglet.
[chuckles] I believe you're right, Pooh.
And another, it seems.
And also that one.
And that one, too,... as well.
And he, or her.
And her, and him.
And they, and them.
Face it, Piglet, old pal,
you're just plain popular.
Some piglets have it,...
some donkeys don't.
Why, I believe, Piglet, they want
to take you home with them.
It's very kind of them, I'm sure,
but I already have a home.
I wouldn't if I couldn't, but I can't.
Jump, Piglet. We'II catch you,
Iikely as not.
I would if I could,
but they won't Iet me.
Perhaps you can ask your friends
to bring you back.
But I don't know which way back is.
[chuckles] It's down here.
I'm afraid I'm too afraid to Iook.
Oh, if only Christopher Robin was here.
Piglet, that's it.
He said all I have to do
is remember that you are...
bigger than a big Ieaf...
I mean, uh,
bolder when you're not green.
Is any of this making you feel
any Iess afraid, Piglet?
I'm afraid not, Pooh.
How to get a piglet down
who is very... up.
[Pooh] Oh, bother.
E-excuse me, b-but is that you, Pooh?
Yes, Piglet, it is.
Might we be coming down soon?
I believe so, Piglet.
Uh, how soon?
That's throwin' your weight around,
Imagine, being outnumbered
by those buggy boys a zillion to one.
What a guy.
Brave indeed. Now if you don't mind,
Rustopher Crobbin, is this way.
Are you all right, Piglet?
Yes, Pooh. Thank you.
Saving me was very brave of you.
But you're brave, too, Piglet.
Oh, what thing is that?
I'm not sure, Piglet.
Oh, if only I could remember.
[narrator] This way and that way
the map led them,
to all the places
Christopher Robin wasn't.
But to none of the places he was.
And still Rabbit refused to realize the
map didn't know which way it was going.
So we first head east by south,
then south by east.
Of course, minus the magnetic variation,
plus the wind drift.
We clearly go...
I wonder if those
rather forbidding Iooking things
might be the Forbidden Mountains,
where Christopher Robin is.
[Piglet] You're right, Pooh.
[Tigger] You found 'em, Buddy Bear.
The way to there is over here.
But, Rabbit, isn't that them,
Now, which are you going to believe,
this official map or your own eyes?
Look for yourself
and you'II see we're right on course.
It's all right there in black and white.
Why would anyone want to wander around
wondering which way to go
when they have a map to follow?
# A map is not a guess
An estimation or a hunch
# A feeling or a foolish intuition
# A map is a dependable, unwavering
# Inarguably accurate portrayer
# Of your position
# Never trust your ears,
your nose, your eyes
# Putting faith in them is most unwise
# Here's a phrase you all must memorize
# "In the printed word
is where truth lies "
Y es, but, Rabbit...
# Never trust your tummies,
your tails or toes
# You can't learn a thing
from any of those
# Here's another fact I must disclose
# From the mighty pen true wisdom flows
# If it says so
# Then it is so
# If it is so, well, so it is
# A thought's not fit to think
till it's printed in ink
# Then it says so
So it is
Y es, but I think...
# Never trust that thing
between your ears
# Brains will get you nowhere fast
# Haven't had a need for mine in years
# On the page is where the truth appears
# If it says so
Then it is so
# If it is so
So it is
# A thought's not fit to think
Till it's printed in ink
# Never differ from or doubt it
- # Or go anywhere without it
# Thank goodness we've got this
# So we don't need to fret about it
# If it says so
# So it is #
[shrieks] Oh, no! The map!
Get the map! With only half a map
we're... we're Iess than nowhere.
After that map!
I got it!
Don't have it.
I had it!
I don't have it now.
I want it again. I got it!
I ain't got it. I don't have it.
I got it! Wait, I'II get it...
No! I don't... I have it!
I wonder what's causing
this tail to fail.
Maybe it just doesn't
have what it takes.
Tigger, of all the safer places to be...
I don't think this is one.
- You could fall.
Well, you know what they say.
What doesn't bounce up
has got to fall down.
Uh... there's no time for this.
We've had too many delays.
So you just bounce out of there
[Iaughs] No way.
The wind isn't right.
But there isn't any wind.
OK, OK, you've got me. [sobs]
The truth is... [whimpers]
my tail... just doesn't have...
Don't worry, Tigger,
Christopher Robin said
I just have to remember you're...
taller than a beam.
Or was it "slower than whipped cream?"
Do you feel any bouncier now?
Perhaps your tail just needs a hand.
Could you... bounce up this far?
Ooh. How about now?
No, no, no. Thanks for trying.
I'm goin' out the way I came in.
A second-rate bouncer.
Um... Uh, Tigger.
Look at the biceps on that bear.
I don't deserve to dangle
from the same precipice.
What's Donkey Boy saying?
I said "Ouch."
Now, don't worry, Piglet, it's only me.
Now, don't worry, Piglet,
it's only Tigger and Rabbit and Eeyore.
The map! Whoo-hoo, we have it!
We can go now!
Worry now, Piglet,
it's the skullasaurus.
I know we went over this way...
And I came across...
But then I... I Iost my way over...
And if I don't... I know...
Might you know which way
Christopher Robin is from here, Rabbit?
Uh, well... Uh, I mean the...
There's this way, of course.
Not that it's the right way.
We obviously want to go this way.
Though that way's further than farther
and nearer than not.
AIthough we can't rule out this way.
Now, if Christopher Robin was here,
what would he say?
Well, he'd say...
"That Rabbit can't function
in this humidity."
"It's not his fault.
This fog isn't even on the map."
"And that... [sobs]
that Rabbit is just not smart enough
to know where to go
or... what to do."
Oh. Christopher Robin says
"At a time Iike this...
all I have to do is remember..."
But it's something Iike...
you're smarter when you're pink.
Does that help?
No. I don't know where we are
and where we aren't.
And I haven't known for hours.
[sighs] I've failed us all.
I believe I have as well.
Let's face it,
without Christopher Robin,
we don't have a chance
of finding Christopher Robin.
Perhaps we might rest in there
until this mist is mostly... mistless.
[Eeyore] End o
Sa sandaling unang sa huling araw ng isang ginintuang tag-init, nagkaroon ng isang batang lalaki ... at bear. Ang batang lalaki na ating masasalubong sa isang sandali, ay tinawag Christopher Robin. Magsilang ng sanggol ay tinawag Winnie ang puwe. At sama-sama sila'y nagkaroon ng maraming enggrandeng pakikipagsapalaran sa isang kapansin-pansin na lugar na tinatawag na ang Hundred Acre Wood. Ngunit ang grandest at pinaka-hindi pangkaraniwang ng lahat ng kanilang mga pakikipagsapalaran ay pa rin para magsimula. T oday, tingin ko, ay isang magandang araw para sa pagiging puwe.
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My personal response to the movie is that there should be more teachers like Mrs. Gruwell, with the determination and the will to teach no matter what the atmosphere of the classroom is or the attitude of the students. The teacher is the one that makes the difference in the classroom. I actually don’t relate to the movie but yes I have some friends that don’t take school seriously and think that the streets has them a better life.
In the movie I had three favorite characters, those where Mrs. Gruwell, Eva and the . I liked them because Mrs. Gruwell never gave up and even got divorced but never let down her students that really needed her. Eva changed her attitude from protecting her own to doing what is right no matter what. The choose to change his gang life in the streets to saying sorry and going back home with his mother.
Just like this kids made a really important transformation of their lifes, who don’t have nothing, they started having hope and realized that no matter how difficult life is there is always hope. The teachers can learn that no matter what is their situation in the classroom they are the ones that are capable of making a change. They just have to believe in themselves first and then do what ever it takes to make a difference.
Everybody should see this movie because it’s a movie that teaches a little bit of everything to all ages. From the students until the teachers a lesson its been sent by the drama of the story.
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Miles is a teenage boy who is the main character of this story. Miles is from Florida, where he was raised and has attended high school. He decided to go to a boarding school in Alabama : Culver Creek. Miles is the most important character in terms of developing the story, since he is not only the narrator, but the reader knows every single one of his thoughts and can understand every single one of his motives, actions and words. Miles, in Florida, was definitely not the popular type, or social in any way. He is not fond of social interactions, especially small talk. Miles would rather be reading biographies than socializing with others. Miles has a fascination with last words. His hobby is reading biographies, only to find out what the person’s last words were. Miles explains his love for last words by saying “But a lot of times, people die how they live. And so last words tell me a lot about who people were, and why they became the sort of people biographies get written about.” (Green 128). Miles is extremely scrawny and lacks muscle, and was exactly six feet tall. He’s not only scrawny, but he is also lanky. Not much is mentioned about Miles’ physical appearance, simply because his societal and psychological appearances are much more significative to who he truly is. Miles is not a very judgmental person. When he first meets Alaska, and she is telling the Colonel a story about a summer experience, Miles is captivated by her right away. Miles is a somewhat vulnerable character who often finds himself in hard situations because he is very confused and very insecure about himself. This is why he falls so easily for Alaska after she gives him the slightest bit of attention, because he is insecure and shy, and was not used to this type of attention back when he was in Florida. Miles is a very intellectual person who can analyze every situation and every single detail in order to truly understand it and the reasoning behind it. The Colonel and him get along very well, because the Colonel is a leader and is always sure of what he wants, which is the exact opposite of Miles. This goes to show that opposites attract, and they end up being extremely good friends. Miles is a follower, and not a leader. He is smart in his words but does not excel with his actions.
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A king and queen have three daughters. All three of the girls are attractive, but one of them is absolutely gorgeous – Psyche. People come from all around just to check out how beautiful Psyche is. All this adoration of Psyche gets totally out of hand; men start worshiping her as if she were a goddess and ignore the altars of the goddess of love and beauty, Venus (a.k.a. Aphrodite). Men even start saying that Psyche is more beautiful than Venus. (Uh-oh.) We bet you can guess who got mad about this. Yup, that's right – Venus. The goddess of love gets kind of hateful and orders her son, Cupid (a.k.a. Eros), to go and punish Psyche by making her fall in love with the ugliest thing around. Cupid sneaks into Psyche's bedroom to do his mother's bidding, but, when he sees how beautiful Psyche is, he gets all distracted and pricks himself with his own arrow. Cupid falls instantly in love with Psyche and leaves without doing what his mother told him to do. Psyche's life continues on as usual: everybody comes to gawk at how hot she is. However, since Venus has it in for her, nobody ever falls in love with Psyche. Psyche's two sisters end up getting married, but Psyche is stuck sitting alone in her room. Getting worried that they've made some god angry, Psyche's parents decide to go consult the oracle of Apollo about their daughter's future. The oracle tells them that Psyche is destined to marry a monster that neither god nor mortal can resist. Psyche's parents are instructed to leave her on a mountain to await her monstrous husband. They cry a lot about it, but they do it anyway. So, Psyche is chilling on top of the mountain, fully expecting something terrible to happen. Zephyr, the west wind, comes and lifts her, carrying the princess gently from the mountaintop down to a beautiful field of flowers. Psyche comes across an amazing castle and goes inside. The place is decked out with tons of treasure and priceless pieces of art. She hears voices that tell her that the palace and all the amazing stuff in it is hers. She's treated to a wonderful feast, complete with an invisible singing chorus for entertainment. Her husband-to-be comes to her that night in the darkness of her bedroom, so she can't see what he looks like. He tells her that she must never try to see what he looks like. She's cool with that for a while, but eventually she gets lonely since he only comes at night and because there are no other humans around. Psyche convinces her invisible husband to let her sisters come and visit her. He reluctantly agrees and has Zephyr float them down. Psyche's sisters get super-jealous about her incredibly posh lifestyle. They start interrogating her about who her husband is. At first, Psyche lies and says he's a handsome young man who spends all day hunting in the mountains. They don't buy it, though, and keep pumping her for information. Eventually, Psyche admits that she's never seen him and that he only comes at night. The jealous sisters remind Psyche of the prophecy that she would marry a monster, and they convince their sister that she has to see what her husband looks like. They advise her to wait until he's asleep, then stand over him with a lamp and a knife (in case he's a monster). That night she follows her sisters' advice and sees that her husband is none other than Cupid. Psyche is blown away by how ridiculously handsome her husband is. She's so distracted that she lets a drop of oil fall and burns his skin. Cupid wakes up and sees his wife standing there with the lamp and a knife. Furious, he flies out the window, telling Psyche that she'll never see him again. The beautiful palace disappears and Psyche is left all alone. Totally depressed, Psyche goes back to her sisters and tells them what happened. As if they hadn't already shown how totally awful they were, the sisters now go to the mountaintop thinking that one of them might take Psyche's husband for themselves. They jump off the mountain, expecting Zephyr to take them down. (No such luck.) The jealous sisters fall to their deaths on the rocks below. Meanwhile, Psyche wanders around trying to find Cupid. She ends up going to a temple of Ceres (a.k.a. Demeter), goddess of the harvest. The temple is a total wreck, so Psyche cleans it up. Ceres is impressed with Psyche's devotion. Psyche asks for some help. Ceres wishes she could give Psyche a hand, but the goddess says she can't go against Venus. Ceres advises Psyche to go to Venus and humbly beg for forgiveness. Psyche takes Ceres' advice and presents herself to Venus. Venus is still crazy mad and gives Psyche a tongue lashing, telling the girl that Cupid is still trying to recover from the burn that the oil gave him when it dripped on him. The goddess of love tells Psyche that she must prove herself worthy to be Cupid's wife by completing a task. Psyche is taken to a storehouse full of wheat, millet, barley, and all kinds of stuff that Venus uses to feed her pigeons. Psyche is ordered to organize all the different kinds of grain – the wheat with the wheat, the barley with the barley, etc. The job seems pretty much impossible, and, to make matters worse, Venus orders Psyche to get it done by evening. Cupid intervenes, however, and inspires a colony of ants to come out of the ground and help out Psyche. (Phew! We were worried that Rumpelstiltskin might show up.) The ants get the job done and disappear underground. Venus returns and tells Psyche that it doesn't count, because Psyche couldn't have done it by herself. The next day the goddess of love gives her daughter-in-law another task. Psyche must collect golden fleece from the back of every sheep in a herd that hangs out by a river. As she's about to cross the river, though, a river god warns Psyche that, if she tries it when the sun is rising, the human-hating rams will kill her. The helpful river god advises her to wait until the noontime sun makes the herd go chill out in the shade; then the rams won't mess with her. Psyche follows the river god's advice and safely collects the wool. Venus is still not satisfied, though, saying again that Psyche didn't do it on her own. Next, the love goddess orders Psyche to go down to the world of the dead and see Proserpine (a.k.a. Persephone), the queen of the underworld and wife of Pluto (a.k.a. Hades). Venus says she wants Psyche to bring a little bit of Proserpine's beauty back in a box. Psyche bravely heads off to find the underworld, but she's really upset this time – going to the land of the dead is beyond dangerous. How is Psyche supposed to get to the underworld? Is she supposed to kill herself? She seems to think so. Thankfully, before Psyche jumps off a cliff, she hears a voice (Cupid) that tells her how to pull it off. The voice tells her where there's a cave that leads down to the underworld, how to convince Charon (the ferryman) to take her there and back, and how to avoid Cerberus, the vicious three-headed dog who guards the underworld. Psyche makes it to Pluto and Proserpine's palace in the land of the dead and tells Proserpine that Venus wants to borrow a little beauty. A box is given to Psyche, and she's on her way. The voice warns Psyche not to open the box, no matter what she does, but Psyche's just so curious and can't help herself. The girl opens the box, thinking that, if she had a little of the beauty herself, then she'd truly be worthy of Cupid. Unfortunately, there's no beauty in the box at all, and when Psyche takes off the lid, she's plunged into a deep sleep, collapsing in the middle of the road. Cupid, who has finally recovered from his burn, flies to help his wife. He wakes her up with one of his arrows, and he points out that once again her curiosity has gotten her in trouble. Cupid tells her to take the box to Venus and to let him take care of the rest. He flies to Jupiter (a.k.a. Zeus), and he begs the king of the gods to help him and Psyche. Jupiter summons Venus and convinces her to chill out about the whole thing. Then he brings Psyche up to Mt. Olympus, the home of the gods, and gives her some ambrosia, which makes the girl immortal. At long last, Cupid and Psyche get to be together. Cupid and Psyche end up having a daughter together, named Voluptas (a.k.a. Hedone, sometimes translated as Pleasure).
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May Day Eve
By Nick Joaquin
The old people had ordered that the dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was almost midnight before the carriages came filing up the departing guests, while the girls who were staying were promptly herded upstairs to the bedrooms, the young men gathering around to wish them a good night and lamenting their ascent with mock signs and moaning, proclaiming themselves disconsolate but straightway going off to finish the punch and the brandy though they were quite drunk already and simply bursting with wild spirits, merriment, arrogance and audacity, for they were young bucks newly arrived from Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they had waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and swaggered and flirted all night and where in no mood to sleep yet--no, caramba, not on this moist tropic eve! not on this mystic May eve! --with the night still young and so seductive that it was madness not to go out, not to go forth---and serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in the Pasid! cried another; and gather fireflies! cried a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor for coats and capes, for hats and canes, and they were a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage rattled away upon the cobbles while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tile roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wile sky murky with clouds, save where an evil young moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable childhood fragrances or ripe guavas to the young men trooping so uproariously down the street that the girls who were desiring upstairs in the bedrooms catered screaming to the windows, crowded giggling at the windows, but were soon sighing amorously over those young men bawling below; over those wicked young men and their handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the moonlight that the girls were quite ravished with love, and began crying to one another how carefree were men but how awful to be a girl and what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the pigtail and chases them off to bed---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobble and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his great voice booming through the night, "Guardia serno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o.
And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said--for it was a night of divination, and night of lovers, and those who cared might peer into a mirror and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobble about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner while the girls climbing into four great poster-beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other and imploring the old woman not to frighten them.
"Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to sleep!"
"Go scare the boys instead, you old witch!"
"She is not a witch, she is a maga. She is a maga. She was born of Christmas Eve!"
"St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr."
"Huh? Impossible! She has conquered seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?"
"No, but I am seven times a martyr because of you girls!"
"Let her prophesy, let her prophesy! Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me."
"You may learn in a mirror if you are not afraid."
"I am not afraid, I will go," cried the young cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed.
"Girls, girls---we are making too much noise! My mother will hear and will come and pinch us all. Agueda, lie down! And you Anastasia, I command you to shut your mouth and go away!""Your mother told me to stay here all night, my grand lady!"
"And I will not lie down!" cried the rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. "Stay, old woman. Tell me what I have to do."
"Tell her! Tell her!" chimed the other girls.
The old woman dropped the clothes she had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes on the girl. "You must take a candle," she instructed, "and go into a room that is dark and that has a mirror in it and you must be alone in the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes and shy:
Mirror, mirror, show to me him whose woman I will be. If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will appear the face of the man you will marry." A silence. Then: "And hat if all does not go right?" asked Agueda. "Ah, then the Lord have mercy on you!" "Why." "Because you may see--the Devil!"
The girls screamed and clutched one another, shivering. "But what nonsense!" cried Agueda. "This is the year 1847. There are no devil anymore!" Nevertheless she had turned pale. "But where could I go, hugh? Yes, I know! Down to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is there now." "No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! You will see the devil!" "I do not care! I am not afraid! I will go!" "Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you mad girl!" "If you do not come to bed, Agueda, I will call my mother." "And if you do I will tell her who came to visit you at the convent last March. Come, old woman---give me that candle. I go." "Oh girls---give me that candle, I go."
But Agueda had already slipped outside; was already tiptoeing across the hall; her feet bare and her dark hair falling down her shoulders and streaming in the wind as she fled down the stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in one hand while with the other she pulled up her white gown from her ankles. She paused breathless in the doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, laughter, whirling couples, and the jolly jerky music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a weird cavern for the windows had been closed and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She crossed herself and stepped inside.
The mirror hung on the wall before her; a big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into leaves and flowers and mysterious curlicues. She saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small while ghost that the darkness bodied forth---but not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair were so dark that the face approaching in the mirror seemed only a mask that floated forward; a bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown forward by the white cloud of her gown. But when she stood before the mirror she lifted the candle level with her chin and the dead mask bloomed into her living face.
She closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. When she had finished such a terror took hold of her that she felt unable to move, unable to open her eyes and thought she would stand there forever, enchanted. But she heard a step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and instantly opened her eyes.
"And what did you see, Mama? Oh, what was it?" But Dona Agueda had forgotten the little girl on her lap: she was staring pass the curly head nestling at her breast and seeing herself in the big mirror hanging in the room. It was the same room and the same mirror out the face she now saw in it was an old face---a hard, bitter, vengeful face, framed in graying hair, and so sadly altered, so sadly different from that other face like a white mask, that fresh young face like a pure mask than she had brought before this mirror one wild May Day midnight years and years ago.... "But what was it Mama? Oh please go on! What did you see?" Dona Agueda looked down at her daughter but her face did not soften though her eyes filled with tears. "I saw the devil." she said bitterly. The child blanched. "The devil, Mama? Oh... Oh..." "Yes, my love. I opened my eyes and there in the mirror, smiling at me over my left shoulder, was the face of the devil." "Oh, my poor little Mama! And were you very frightened?" "You can imagine. And that is why good little girls do not look into mirrors except when their mothers tell them. You must stop this naughty habit, darling, of admiring yourself in every mirror you pass- or you may see something frightful some day." "But the devil, Mama---what did he look like?" "Well, let me see... he has curly hair and a scar on his cheek---" "Like the scar of Papa?" "Well, yes. But this of the devil was a scar of sin, while that of your Papa is a scar of honor. Or so he says." "Go on about the devil." "Well, he had mustaches." "Like those of Papa?" "Oh, no. Those of your Papa are dirty and graying and smell horribly of tobacco, while these of the devil were very black and elegant--oh, how elegant!" "And did he speak to you, Mama?" "Yes… Yes, he spoke to me," said Dona Agueda. And bowing her graying head; she wept.
"Charms like yours have no need for a candle, fair one," he had said, smiling at her in the mirror and stepping back to give her a low mocking bow. She had whirled around and glared at him and he had burst into laughter. "But I remember you!" he cried. "You are Agueda, whom I left a mere infant and came home to find a tremendous beauty, and I danced a waltz with you but you would not give me the polka." "Let me pass," she muttered fiercely, for he was barring the way. "But I want to dance the polka with you, fair one," he said. So they stood before the mirror; their panting breath the only sound in the dark room; the candle shining between them and flinging their shadows to the wall. And young Badoy Montiya (who had crept home very drunk to pass out quietly in bed) suddenly found himself cold sober and very much awake and ready for anything. His eyes sparkled and the scar on his face gleamed scarlet. "Let me pass!" she cried again, in a voice of fury, but he grasped her by the wrist. "No," he smiled. "Not until we have danced." "Go to the devil!" "What a temper has my serrana!" "I am not your serrana!" "Whose, then? Someone I know? Someone I have offended grievously? Because you treat me, you treat all my friends like your mortal enemies." "And why not?" she demanded, jerking her wrist away and flashing her teeth in his face. "Oh, how I detest you, you pompous young men! You go to Europe and you come back elegant lords and we poor girls are too tame to please you. We have no grace like the Parisiennes, we have no fire like the Sevillians, and we have no salt, no salt, no salt! Aie, how you weary me, how you bore me, you fastidious men!" "Come, come---how do you know about us?"
"I was not admiring myself, sir!" "You were admiring the moon perhaps?" "Oh!" she gasped, and burst into tears. The candle dropped from her hand and she covered her face and sobbed piteously. The candle had gone out and they stood in darkness, and young Badoy was conscience-stricken. "Oh, do not cry, little one!" Oh, please forgive me! Please do not cry! But what a brute I am! I was drunk, little one, I was drunk and knew not what I said." He groped and found her hand and touched it to his lips. She shuddered in her white gown. "Let me go," she moaned, and tugged feebly. "No. Say you forgive me first. Say you forgive me, Agueda." But instead she pulled his hand to her mouth and bit it - bit so sharply in the knuckles that he cried with pain and lashed cut with his other hand--lashed out and hit the air, for she was gone, she had fled, and he heard the rustling of her skirts up the stairs as he furiously sucked his bleeding fingers. Cruel thoughts raced through his head: he would go and tell his mother and make her turn the savage girl out of the house--or he would go himself to the girl’s room and drag her out of bed and slap, slap, slap her silly face! But at the same time he was thinking that they were all going to Antipolo in the morning and was already planning how he would maneuver himself into the same boat with her. Oh, he would have his revenge, he would make her pay, that little harlot! She should suffer for this, he thought greedily, licking his bleeding knuckles. But---Judas! He remembered her bare shoulders: gold in her candlelight and delicately furred. He saw the mobile insolence of her neck, and her taut breasts steady in the fluid gown. Son of a Turk, but she was quite enchanting! How could she think she had no fire or grace? And no salt? An arroba she had of it!
"... No lack of salt in the chrism At the moment of thy baptism!" He sang aloud in the dark room and suddenly realized that he had fallen madly in love with her. He ached intensely to see her again---at once! ---to touch her hands and her hair; to hear her harsh voice. He ran to the window and flung open the casements and the beauty of the night struck him back like a blow. It was May, it was summer, and he was young---young! ---and deliriously in love. Such a happiness welled up within him that the tears spurted from his eyes. But he did not forgive her--no! He would still make her pay, he would still have his revenge, he thought viciously, and kissed his wounded fingers. But what a night it had been! "I will never forge this night! he thought aloud in an awed voice, standing by the window in the dark room, the tears in his eyes and the wind in his hair and his bleeding knuckles pressed to his mouth.
But, alas, the heart forgets; the heart is distracted; and May time passes; summer lends; the storms break over the rot-tipe orchards and the heart grows old; while the hours, the days, the months, and the years pile up and pile up, till the mind becomes too crowded, too confused: dust gathers in it; cobwebs multiply; the walls darken and fall into ruin and decay; the memory perished...and there came a time when Don Badoy Montiya walked home through a May Day midnight without remembering, without even caring to remember; being merely concerned in feeling his way across the street with his cane; his eyes having grown quite dim and his legs uncertain--for he was old; he was over sixty; he was a very stopped and shivered old man with white hair and mustaches coming home from a secret meeting of conspirators; his mind still resounding with the speeches and his patriot heart still exultant as he picked his way up the steps to the front door and inside into the slumbering darkness of the house; wholly unconscious of the May night, till on his way down the hall, chancing to glance into the sala, he shuddered, he stopped, his blood ran cold-- for he had seen a face in the mirror there---a ghostly candlelight face with the eyes closed and the lips moving, a face that he suddenly felt he had been there before though it was a full minutes before the lost memory came flowing, came tiding back, so overflooding the actual moment and so swiftly washing away the piled hours and days and months and years that he was left suddenly young again; he was a gay young buck again, lately came from Europe; he had been dancing all night; he was very drunk; he s stepped in the doorway; he saw a face in the dark; he called out...and the lad standing before the mirror (for it was a lad in a night go jumped with fright and almost dropped his candle, but looking around and seeing the old man, laughed out with relief and came running.
"Oh Grandpa, how you frightened me. Don Badoy had turned very pale. "So it was you, you young bandit! And what is all this, hey? What are you doing down here at this hour?" "Nothing, Grandpa. I was only... I am only ..." "Yes, you are the great Señor only and how delighted I am to make your acquaintance, Señor Only! But if I break this cane on your head you maga wish you were someone else, Sir!" "It was just foolishness, Grandpa. They told me I would see my wife."
"Wife? What wife?" "Mine. The boys at school said I would see her if I looked in a mirror tonight and said: Mirror, mirror show to me her whose lover I will be.
Don Badoy cackled ruefully. He took the boy by the hair, pulled him along into the room, sat down on a chair, and drew the boy between his knees. "Now, put your cane down the floor, son, and let us talk this over. So you want your wife already, hey? You want to see her in advance, hey? But so you know that these are wicked games and that wicked boys who play them are in danger of seeing horrors?"
"Well, the boys did warn me I might see a witch instead."
"Exactly! A witch so horrible you may die of fright. And she will be witch you, she will torture you, she will eat
your heart and drink your blood!"
"Oh, come now Grandpa. This is 1890. There are no witches anymore."
"Oh-ho, my young Voltaire! And what if I tell you that I myself have seen a witch.
"Right in this room land right in that mirror," said the old man, and his playful voice had turned savage.
"Not so long ago. When I was a bit older than you. Oh, I was a vain fellow and though I was feeling very sick that night and merely wanted to lie down somewhere and die I could not pass that doorway of course without stopping to see in the mirror what I looked like when dying. But when I poked my head in what should I see in the mirror but...but..."
"And then she bewitch you, Grandpa!"
"She bewitched me and she tortured me. l She ate my heart and drank my blood." said the old man bitterly.
"Oh, my poor little Grandpa! Why have you never told me! And she very horrible?
"Horrible? God, no--- she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen! Her eyes were somewhat like yours but her hair was like black waters and her golden shoulders were bare. My God, she was enchanting! But I should have known---I should have known even then---the dark and fatal creature she was!"
A silence. Then: "What a horrid mirror this is, Grandpa," whispered the boy.
"What makes you slay that, hey?"
"Well, you saw this witch in it. And Mama once told me that Grandma once told her that Grandma once saw the devil in this mirror. Was it of the scare that Grandma died?"
Don Badoy started. For a moment he had forgotten that she was dead, that she had perished---the poor Agueda; that they were at peace at last, the two of them, her tired body at rest; her broken body set free at last from the brutal pranks of the earth---from the trap of a May night; from the snare of summer; from the terrible silver nets of the moon. She had been a mere heap of white hair and bones in the end: a whimpering withered consumptive, lashing out with her cruel tongue; her eye like live coals; her face like ashes... Now, nothing--- nothing save a name on a stone; save a stone in a graveyard---nothing! was left of the young girl who had flamed so vividly in a mirror one wild May Day midnight, long, long ago.
And remembering how she had sobbed so piteously; remembering how she had bitten his hand and fled and how he had sung aloud in the dark room and surprised his heart in the instant of falling in love: such a grief tore up his throat and eyes that he felt ashamed before the boy; pushed the boy away; stood up and looked out----looked out upon the medieval shadows of the foul street where a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage was rattling away upon the cobbles, while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tiled roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where an evil old moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable the window; the bowed old man sobbing so bitterly at the window; the tears streaming down his cheeks and the wind in his hair and one hand pressed to his mouth---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles, and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his voice booming through the night:
"Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o!"
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The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled the streets.
Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.
When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.
"It's all right, officer," he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like to make certain it's all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands--'Big Joe' Brady's restaurant."
"Until five years ago," said the policeman. "It was torn down then."
The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.
"Twenty years ago to-night," said the man, "I dined here at 'Big Joe' Brady's with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn't have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be."
"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven't you heard from your friend since you left?"
"Well, yes, for a time we corresponded," said the other. "But after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He'll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it's worth it if my old partner turns up."
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.
"Three minutes to ten," he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clock when we parted here at the restaurant door."__
"Did pretty well out West, didn't you?" asked the policeman.
"You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him."
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?"
"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he'll be here by that time. So long, officer."
"Good-night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.
"Is that you, Bob?" he asked, doubtfully.
"Is that you, Jimmy Wells?" cried the man in the door.
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's hands with his own. "It's Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I'd find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! --twenty years is a long time. The old gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?"
"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches."
"Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty."
"Doing well in New York, Jimmy?"
"Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; we'll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times."
The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other's face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
"You're not Jimmy Wells," he snapped. "Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a man's nose from a Roman to a pug."
"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man. "You've been under arrest for ten minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here's a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It's from Patrolman Wells."
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.
~"Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job.
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