February 26, 2004

a need to read.

gwen, a sister of the heart, now has a blog. esin. go visit and be blessed, edified, etc.

Posted by hill at 09:23 PM | Comments (3)

February 24, 2004


student global impact.

pray for this summer. the possiblility of turkey. ten days. about $1600. pray my family would be willing.

email if you want more details.

Posted by hill at 09:11 PM | Comments (1)


i stumbled across an article written by a very godly man, pastor bixby. in it he enummerates his reasons why he won't go to see mel gibson's movie.

i would like to add a hearty amen to that. here is why.

i am a visual person. i see things and i find it hard to forget them, good or bad. i think the trap that we all could fall into is the trap of worshiping that image or the portrayal of Christ and leaving behind the real person of Christ. if i were to see that movie, i would forever think of that actor as my Lord. i would think of the atrocities rather than the purpose of His death. i would praise gibson for his stand rather than God's soverignty.

another reason i decided not to go see the movie is because of the hopelesness. it ends at the crucifixion. there is no resurection. a very tidy, catholic ending. i would agree with pastor bixby and praise the Lord if someone would come to him as a result of this movie, but knowing the purpose behind it--to further the catholic church--and knowing the lack of the resurection, i don't think i would be able to watch it.

praise the Lord that He is able to rise above mel gibson and further His work by His means. we need to remember that the Lord does not need mel gibson to get His word all over the world. God does not need the passion to tell men about Himself. but praise Him that He is able to water seeds planted by this movie.

Posted by hill at 09:09 PM | Comments (5)


my first try....

Posted by hill at 03:50 PM | Comments (2)

February 22, 2004

an especially green day...

the grass is greener today.

the sky is especially blue today.

the river is very big and pretty today.

the leaves on the trees are coming out and i saw a dogwood blooming today.

the colors are especially vibrant today.

i think it is cause it is my birthday.


Posted by hill at 08:12 AM | Comments (5)

February 19, 2004

not an idle wish.

last year we had a farm. a nice farm with a big barn. the community was all farmers. tall big men with literally red necks, overalls, the tall, stiff brimmed bright green john deer hats, and rocky boots. most of them had smile lines around their eyes. their hands were cracked and permanently dirty from the years of working in good, black, ohio dirt. they were men who knew how to work. men who knew suffering and inconsistences.

they also knew where to get a good breakfast. marcy's diner.

marcy was a town that sported a diner, a 2-way stop and a baptist church on the corner. if you blinked you missed marcy, and the best greasy spoon in the whole world. it was one of those places where the cigarette smoke was so thick that you could literally run in there and run back out and smell like grease and cigarette smoke all day. but they had the biggest, the best, and the heartiest breakfasts on that side of the ohio river for $2.95.

the clientele are all farmers. in their usual garb, chatting away about grain prices, best breed of cattle, and the farmers almanac for the month. dad and i would go to marcy's for breakfast about once a month, sometimes more sometimes less. when we would pull up in our white 1998 volvo we would be sorely out of place. i would look too conspicuous because i was the only one in the place who had showered.

my family lived in the area for nine years. people at marcy's knew us by our first names, but we were forever the "city slickers" because we had a white volvo and a 1995 ford winstar. that threw us out of the loop.

so how does one adapt? how does one fit it with the farmers. i found that the key was a red, diesel, heavy duty truck. every car parked in that lot was a red pickup truck.

i developed a love for trucks. diesel trucks. every time we would come to a stop light and would be in front of or behind one, i would roll down my window and just listen to the beautiful sound of a diesel engine.

yesterday i was in my car and i felt the ground shake turned to my left and saw the most beautiful diesel truck sitting next to me. the idling engine of a diesel truck is my most favorite sound in the world. and every time i hear it, i just have to smile and think of those farmers back in ohio.

Posted by hill at 09:34 AM | Comments (1)

February 14, 2004

out of the silent planet.

when reading out of the silent planet this summer i kept forgetting the word's meanings till i came across this.

i have been meaning to post this for some time and just got around to it when i picked up the third book in the space trilogy.

instead of flipping back and forth in the book, i found this to be very helpful. if you haven't read the books, i highly recommend them. i can't say they are my favorites cause i couldn't choose which of lewis's books are my favorite. it is like picking out your favorite sunset.


There was originally one common speech for all rational creatures of the planetary system except earth, where it was lost because of the fall.This speech is known as Hlab-Eribol-ef-Cordi.Now there is no human language in the world descended from it.But it is the language of the hrossa (Hressa-Hlab), of Perelandra, and of Numinor.It was known in fragments by old magicians of the Atlantean Circle, who repeated it to initiates.

The words of Old Solar are polysyllabic and sound as if they are not “words at all but present operations of God, the planets, and the Pendragon.”For this is the language spoken before the Fall.The meanings were not given to the syllables by chance, skill, or tradition but “truly inherent in them…This was Language herself.”Thus the names Lewis uses for the planets, except Thulcandra, are said to be their real names.

Lewis says there is no obvious connection between phonetic elements of Old Solar and actual language.However, he was familiar with Anglo-Saxon, Norse, Greek, Hebrew, and Latin.Lewis also felt fantasy names should be beautiful, suggestive, and strange.“Spelling counts” as much as sound.He also admitted that he liked to play with syllables and fit them together by ear to see if he could come up with pleasing new words with emotional, not intellectual, suggestiveness.


Lewis noted that use of the words “har” (mountains) and “sorn/seroni,” which declined like “hoken” in Arabic, and “handramit” which resembles “handhramaut” in Arabic, are accidental and show how hard it is to invent something that does not already exist.

All three Malacandrian hnau speak the same language--the speech of the hrossa, but also speak their own, less ancient tongues at home.


Very similar to Old Norse with its initial h; h disappears after c.Has suffixes and prefixes.

Has no words for forgive, shame, fault.Speech cannot be translated into English.

Hrossa have “furry” names.

Ahihraexclamation (proclaimed when Jupiter rises)

Bent - evil

Cordi - field

Crahlast - part of a poem

Ef - of

Eribol arbol (variation)

Handraland - earth (element)

Handramitlow - ground, watered country, gorge, canyon

Harandrahigh - ground

Hlab - language

Hieri - Hyoi’s wife

Hlunthelinecrave - something wrongly

Hman/hmana - man

Hnakra/hneraki - aquatic sea monster

Hnau/naurational - beings with spirit

Hnohra - gray-muzzled, venerable hross who teaches Ransom Old Solar

Hnoo - hross who dips Weston’s head in water

Honodraskud - edible pink weed on handramit

Hressa - Hlab hrossan language

Hrikkishe - hross (cub) who talks to an eldil

Hrinha - hross in charge of ferry to Meldilorn

Hross/hrossa(feminine form hressni) - one of three intelligent races on Malacandra

Hru - blood (Arbol hru: gold)

Hyahi - Hyoi’s brother

Hyoi - first hross to meet Ransom; murdered by Weston and Devine

Pfifltriggi - one of three intelligent races on Malacandra
Punt - kill
Punti - slayers
Sorn/seroni - one of three intelligent races on Malacandra

Thulc - silent

Unrendi - Maleldil a blessing

Whin - hross who hunts hnakra with Hyoi and Ransom

Wondelone - to long for something such as joy; Sehnsucht


Pfifiltriggian language is reminiscent of Turkish or Eastern.Myths of Australian aborigines give similar names, such as Kilpuruna, Purukupali, and Wuriupranala.Pfifltriggi speak mainly through their art.Their names are as follows:

Firikitelkilain charge of cisterns at Meldilorn
Kanakaberalkacarves Ransom’s picture in stone



Surnibur is a relatively modern speech, developed probably within our Cambrian period.It is “big sounding,” can be translated, and has a different vocabulary than hrossan.Typical names are:

Augray sorn who takes Ransom to Meldilorn

*from A Far-Off Country

Sammons, Martha C.A Far-Off Country.Maryland: University Press of America, 2000

from http://campus.kcc.edu/faculty/cstarr/sPACE%20tRILOGY%20website/oldsolar/oldsolar.htm

Posted by hill at 02:53 PM | Comments (0)


"It is not for nothing that you are named Ransom," said the Voice.

And he knew that this was no fancy of his own. He knew if for a very curious reason--because he had known for many years that his surname was derived not from ransom but from Randolf's son. It would never have occurred to him thus to associate the two words. To connect the name Ransom with the act of ransoming would have been for him a mere pun. But even his voluble self did not now dare to suggest that the Voice was making a play upon words. All in a moment of time he percieved that what was, to human philologists, a merely accidental resemblance of two sounds, was in truth no accident. The whole distinction between things accidental and things designed, like the distinction between fact and myth, was purely terrestrial. The pattern is so large that within the little frame of earthly experience there appear pieces of it between which we can see no connection, and other pieces between which we can. Hence we rightly, for our use, distinguish the accidental from the essential. But step outside that frame and the distinction drops down into the void, fluttering useless wings. He had been forced out of the frame, caught up into the larger pattern. He knew now why the old philosophers had said that there is no such thing as chance of fortune beyond the Moon. Before his Mother had born him, before his ancestors had been called Ransoms, before ransom had been the name for a payment that delivers, before the world was made, all these things had so stood together in eternity that the very significance of the pattern at this point lay in their coming together in just this fashion. And he bowed his head and groaned and repined against his fate--to be still a man and yet to be forced up into the metaphysical world, to enact what philosophy only thinks.

"My name also is Ransom," said the Voice.

It was some time before the purport of this saying dawned upon him. He whom the other worlds call Maleldil, was the world's ransom, his own ransom, well he knew. But to what purpose was it said now? Before the answer came to him he felt its insufferable approach and held out his arms before him as if he could keep it from forcing open the door of his mind. But it came. So that was the real issue. If he now failed, this world also would hereafter be redeemed. If he were not the ransom, Another would be. Yet nothing was ever repeated. Not a second crucifixion: perhaps--who knows--not even a second Incarnation...some act of even more appalling love, some glory of yet deeper humility. For he had seen already how the pattern grows and how from each world it sprouts into the next through some other dimension. The small external evil which Satan had done in Malacandra was only as a line: the deeper evil he had done in Earth was as a square: if Venus fell, her evil would be a cube--her Redemption beyond conceiving. Yet redeemed she would be. He had long known that grate issues hung on his choice; but as he now realised the true width of the frightful freedom that was being put into his hands--a width to which all merely spatial infinity seemed narrow--he felt like a man brought out under naked heaven, on the edge of a precipice, into the teeth of a wind that came howling from the Pole. He had pictured himself, till now, standing before the Lord, like Peter. But it was worse. He sat before Him like Pilate. It lay with him to save or to spill. His hands had been reddened, as all men's hands have been, in the slaying before the foundation of the world; now, if he chose, he could dip them again in the same blood. "Mercy," he groaned; and then, "Lord, why me?" But there was no answer.

--Perelandra by C.S. Lewis--

Posted by hill at 01:21 PM | Comments (0)

February 13, 2004

clouds on earth.

i played with bubbles tonight. like bubble-bath bubbles. i was thrown back to childhood. i built tunnels and sculpted the bubbles into masterpieces.

i made caves and paths thru the bubbles and strangely wanted to see what was around the bend. i started thinking that it looked strangely like a scene from "out of the silent planet". all white and undiscernable, and yet beautiful and everything unique.

call me odd, but it was fun.

Posted by hill at 08:57 PM | Comments (0)

February 07, 2004

an encouragement.

i type an entry. something that is fun for me. something i want to share with others. no one answers. dissapointing.

then two names post comments out of the blue. people actually read my blog. people i don't know that did.

makes me smile.

thank you.

Posted by hill at 12:59 AM | Comments (4)

February 05, 2004

delightful dickens.

i have never read dickens. but recently picked up nicholas nickleby cause i liked the look of the book. (which that is another whole blog entry. how i pick out books. rather odd, but it works for me!)

the dickens characters are so colorful and diverse. and if you think of the names that he names them and see how he spells the name, it is amazing how much like the character the name is.

if you have watched/read our mutual friend, mr. headstone. humorous thing about this is that he proposes to lizzy in a graveyard. i would highly reccomend that movie. as endorsement for it, dr. horton on the bju english faculty says that it is the only movie that he has seen that is actually better than the book. high praise indeed!

but back to nicholas nickleby. i would suggest you read it. get a taste for dickens. very worth your time.

Posted by hill at 02:13 PM | Comments (0)

February 04, 2004

my favorite russian fairytale.

Fenist the Bright Falcon
A Russian Tale


Once upon a time there lived a peasant. His wife died and left him three daughters. The old man wanted to hire a servant-girl to help about the house, but his youngest daughter Maryushka said:
"Don't hire a servant, Father, I shall keep house alone."

And so his daughter Maryushka began keeping house, and a fine housekeeper she made. There was nothing she could not do, and all she did she did splendidly. Her father loved Maryushka dearly and was glad to have such a clever and hard-working daughter. And how lovely she was! But her two sisters were ugly creatures, full of envy and greed, always paint-ed and powdered and dressed in their best. They spent all day putting on new gowns and trying to look better than they really were. But nothing ever pleased them long -- neither gowns, nor shawls, nor high-heeled boots.

Now, one day the old man set out to market and he asked his daughters:

"What shall I buy you, dear daughters, what shall I please you with?"

"Buy us each a kerchief," said the two elder daughters. "And mind it has big flowers on it done in gold."

But his youngest daughter Maryushka stood silent, so the father asked her:

"And what would you like, Maryushka?"

"Dear Father, buy me a feather of Fenist the Bright Falcon."

By and by the father came back with the kerchiefs, but the feather he had not found.

After a while the man went to market again.

"Well, daughters, make your orders," said he.

And the two elder daughters replied eagerly: "Buy each of us a pair of silver-studded boots."

But Maryushka said again: "Dear Father, buy me a feather of Fenist the Bright Falcon."

All that day the father walked about the market and bought the boots, but the feather he could not find. And so he came back without it.

Very well, then. He set out on his way to the market for the third time and his elder daughters asked him: "Buy us each a new gown."

But Maryushka said again: "Dear Father, buy me a feather of Fenist the Bright Falcon."

All that day the father walked about the market, but still no feather. So he drove out of town, and who should he meet on the way but a little old man.

"Good day, Grandfather!"

"Good day to you, my dear man. Where are you bound for?"

"Back to my village, Grandfather. And I don't know what to do. My youngest daughter asked me to buy her a feather of Fenist the Bright Falcon, but I haven't found it."

"I have the feather you need; it is a charmed one, but I see you are a good man, so you shall have it, come what may."

The little old man took out the feather and gave it to the girl's father, but it looked quite ordinary, so the peasant rode home and he thought: "What good can it be to my Maryushka?"

In a while the old man came home and gave the presents to his daughters. And the two elder ones tried on their new gowns and kept laughing at Maryushka:

"Silly you were, and silly you are! Stick it in your hair now -- won't you look fine with it!"

But Maryushka made no answer, she just kept away from them. And when the whole house was asleep, she cast the feather on the floor and said softly: "Come to me, dear Fenist, Bright Falcon, my cherished bridegroom!"

And there came to her a youth of wondrous beauty. Towards morning he struck the floor and became a falcon. And Maryushka opened the window and the falcon soared up into the blue sky.

And so for three nights she made him welcome. By day he flew about in the blue heavens as a falcon; at nightfall he came back to Maryushka and turned into a handsome youth.

But on the fourth day the wicked sisters caught sight of them and went and told their father.

"Dear daughters," said he, "better mind your own business."

"All right," thought the sisters, "we shall see what comes next." And they stuck a row of sharp knives into the window-sill and hid by watching.

And after a while the Bright Falcon appeared. He flew up to the window, but could not get into Maryushka's room. So he fluttered and fluttered there, beating against the pane, till all his breast was cut by the blades. But Maryushka slept fast and heard nothing. So at last the falcon said:

"Who needs me, will find me, but not without pains. You shall not find me till you wear out three pairs of iron shoes, and break three iron staffs, and tear three iron caps."

Maryushka heard this and she sprang from her bed to the window. But the falcon was gone, and all he left on the window was a trace of red blood. Maryushka burst into bitter tears, and the little tear-drops washed off the trace of red blood and made her still prettier.

And then she went to her father and said to him: "Do not chide me, Father, but let me go on my weary way. If I live to see you, I shall, but if I do not, then so must it be."

The man was sorry to part with his sweet daughter, but at last he let her go.

So Maryushka went and ordered three pairs of iron shoes, three iron staffs, and three iron caps. And off she set on her long weary way to seek her heart's desire Fenist the Bright Falcon. She walked through open fields, she went through dark forests and she climbed tall mountains. The little birds cheered her heart with merry songs, the brooks washed her white face, and the dark woods made her welcome. And no one could do harm to Maryushka, for all the wild beasts -- grey wolves, brown bears and red foxes -- would come running out towards her. At last one pair of iron shoes wore out, one iron staff broke and one iron cap was torn.

And Maryushka came to a glade in the woods and she saw a little hut on hen's feet spinning round and round.

"Little hut, little hut," said Maryushka, "turn your back to the trees and your face to me, please. Let me in to eat bread within."

The little hut turned its back to the trees and its face to Maryushka, and in she went. And there she saw Baba-Yaga, the witch with a broom and a switch, a bony hag with a nose like a snag.

Baba-Yaga caught sight of Maryushka and growled: "Ugh, ugh, Russian blood, never met by me before, now I smell it at my door. Who comes here? Where from? Where to?"

"Granny dear, I am looking for Fenist the Bright Falcon."

"It's a long way off, pretty maid! You will have to pass through the Thrice-Nine Lands to the Thrice-Ten Kingdom to find him. A wicked sorceress, the queen there, has charmed him with a magic drink and made him marry her. But I shall help you. Here, take this silver saucer and golden egg. When you come to the Thrice-Ten Kingdom get hired as a servant to the Queen. After the day's work is done, take the silver saucer and put the golden egg on it. It will start to roll about all by itself. Should they want to buy it, do not sell it -- ask them to let you see Fenist the Bright Falcon."

Maryushka thanked Baba-Yaga and went off. The woods became darker, and she got too frightened to move, when all of a sudden there came a Cat. It jumped up to Maryushka and it purred: "Have no fear, Maryushka, it will be still worse farther on, but go on and on and do not look back."

And the Cat rubbed against her feet and was gone, while Maryushka went farther. And the deeper she went into the woods the darker it grew. She walked and she walked, till her second pair of iron shoes wore out, her second iron staff broke and her second iron cap got torn. And soon she came to a little hut on hen's feet with a strong fence all round and terrible glowing skulls on the pales.

Maryushka said: "Little hut, little hut, turn your back to the trees and your face to me, please. Let me in to eat bread within."

The little hut turned its back to the trees and its face to Maryushka, and Maryushka went in. And there she saw Baba-Yaga, the witch with a broom and a switch, a bony hag with a nose like a snag.

Baba-Yaga caught sight of Maryushka and she growled:

"Ugh, ugh, Russian blood, never met by me before, now I smell it at my door. Who comes here? Where from? Where to?"

"I want to find Fenist the Bright Falcon."

"And have you been to my sister?"

"Yes, Granny dear, I have."

"All right, then, my beauty, I shall help you. Take this gold needle and silver frame. The needle works all by itself and embroiders red velvet with silver and gold. Should they want to buy it, do not sell it -- ask them to let you see Fenist the Bright Falcon."

Maryushka thanked Baba-Yaga and went on her way. It crashed and it banged and it whistled in the forest, and a weird light shone from the skull, hanging round. How terrible it was! But suddenly up ran a Dog:

"Bow-wow, Maryushka, have no fear, darling, it will be still worse, but you go on and never look back."

So it spoke and was gone. Maryushka went on and on, and the woods got darker, scratching her knees and catching at her sleeves. But Maryushka walked and walked and never looked back.

How long she walked is hard to say, but the third pair of iron shoes wore out, the third iron staff broke and the third iron cap was torn. And she came to a glade in the forest and saw a little hut on hen's feet with a tall paling all round and glowing horse skulls on the pales.

Then said Maryushka: "Little hut, little hut, turn your back to the trees and your face to me, please."

The hut turned its back to the trees and its face to Maryushka, and in she stepped. And there she saw Baba-Yaga, the witch with a broom and a switch, a bony hag with a nose like a snag.

Baba-Yaga saw Maryushka and she growled: "Ugh, ugh, Russian blood, never met by me before, now I smell it at my door. Who comes here? Where from? Where to?"

"I'm looking for Fenist the Bright Falcon, Granny!"

"It is no easy task to find him, my beauty, but I shall help you. Here, take this silver distaff and this gold spindle. Hold the spindle in your hands and it will spin all by itself and the thread will come out all gold."

"Thank you, Granny."

"All right, save your thanks until afterwards, and now listen to me. Should they want to buy the gold spindle, don't sell it, but ask them to let you see Fenist the Bright Falcon."

Maryushka thanked Baba-Yaga and went on her way. And it roared and rumbled and whistled in the forest. The owls wheeled round, the mice crawled out of their holes and rushed straight to Maryushka. Then all of a sudden a Grey Wolf ran up to her and said:

"Have no fear, Maryushka. Get on my back and never look behind."

So she sat on the Wolf's back and off they flashed out of sight. They passed wide steppes and velvet meadows, they crossed honey rivers with custard banks and they climbed tall mountains that touched the clouds. On and on raced Maryushka till she reached a crystal palace with a carved porch and fancy windows. And there was the Queen herself looking out of a window.

"Well," said the Wolf, "we've come, Maryushka. Climb down from my back and get hired as a servant at the palace."

Maryushka climbed off, took her bundle and thanked the Wolf. Then she went up to the Queen and bowed.

"I beg your pardon," she said, "I don't know your name; aren't you in need of a servant-girl?"

"Yes," said the Queen, "it is long I have looked for a servant, but the one I need must be able to spin, weave and embroider."

"All that I can do," said Maryushka.

"Then come in and set to work."

And so Maryushka became a servant-girl. She worked all the day until night-time, and then she took out her golden egg and silver saucer and said:

"Roll about, golden egg, on your silver saucer, show me my Fenist dear."

And the golden egg rolled about till Fenist the Bright Falcon appeared before her. Maryushka gazed and gazed at him and her tears ran fast.

"Fenist, my Fenist, why have you left poor me to shed tears without you?"

And the Queen overheard her and said: "Maryushka, sell me your silver saucer and golden egg."

"No," replied Maryushka, "they are not to be sold, but you may have them free if you let me see Fenist the Bright Falcon."

The Queen thought for a while and then she said:

"All right, let it be so. To-night, when he falls asleep, I will let you see him."

So when night came, Maryushka went to his bedroom and saw Fenist the Bright Falcon. Her darling lay fast asleep and could not be awakened. She looked and she looked and she could not look enough, and she kissed him on his sweet mouth, and she pressed him to her white bosom, but her darling slept on and did not awaken. Morning set in, but still Maryushka could not rouse her beloved.

All that day she worked and in the evening took her silver frame and gold needle. And as it sewed, Maryushka kept saying:

"Get embroidered, little towel, get embroidered, little towel, let my Fenist the Bright Falcon wipe his face."

The Queen overheard her and asked:

"Maryushka, sell me your silver frame and gold needle."

"Sell I will not," replied Maryushka, "but you may have them free if you let me see Fenist the Bright Falcon."

The Queen thought hard, but at last she said: "All right, let it be so. Come and see him to-night."

Night came on, and Maryushka entered the bedroom and she saw her Fenist the Bright Falcon lying fast asleep.

"O my Fenist, Bright Falcon, arise, wake up!"

But her Fenist slept on as fast as ever, and Maryushka could not wake him up, try as she might.

At daybreak Maryushka set to work and took out her silver distaff and golden spindle. And the Queen saw her and began asking her to sell them. But Maryushka replied:

"Sell them I will not, but you may have them for nothing if only you let me see Fenist the Bright Falcon."

"All right," said the other and she thought to herself: "She won't wake him up anyhow."

Night drew on and Maryushka entered the bedroom, but Fenist lay as fast asleep as ever.

"O my Fenist, Bright Falcon, arise, wake up!"

But Fenist slept on and would not awaken.

Maryushka tried and tried again to wake him, but she could not. And soon it would be morning. So Maryushka burst out weeping and she said:

"Dearest Fenist, arise and open your eyes, look at your Maryushka, press her close!"

And a hot tear fell from Maryushka's eyes on the bare shoulder of Fenist and burnt it. Fenist the Bright Falcon stirred and he opened his eyes and saw Maryushka. And then he took her in his arms and kissed her.

"Can it be you, my Maryushka? So you have worn out three pairs of iron shoes and broken three iron staffs and torn three iron caps? Cry no more. Let us go home, now."

And they started getting ready for the homeward journey. But the Queen noticed it and she bade her trumpeters spread the news of her husband's betrayal through all the towns of the land.

And the princes and merchants of her land came together to hold council and decide how to punish Fenist the Bright Falcon.

And then Fenist the Bright Falcon stood up and said: "Who do you think is the real wife, the one who loves me truly or the one that sells and betrays me?"

Everyone had to agree that only Maryushka was fit to be his wife.

After that they went back to their own land. And they had a grand feast there, and all the guns fired and all the trumpets blew at their wedding. And the feast they had was so grand, it is still remembered. And they both lived happily ever afterwards.

Posted by hill at 03:11 PM | Comments (5)