Breaking News Warren Buffett Warns "BREXIT Chaos Is Going To Cost Millions of American Jobs" - And Reveals What Average Americans NEED To Do To Protect Themselves (CNN) -- Warren Buffett is the most successful and respected investor and economist of all time. Called the Oracle of Omaha, Mr. Buffett's knowledge and intuition have allowed him to turn $2,000 into $70,000,000,000 - and last Monday he came on my show to warn the American people about the effects BREXIT is having on our economy. Mr. Buffett stated that the european crisis is going to affect the entire world. Read the Full Article If you'd prefer not to receive future emails, Unsubscribe Here. 63 East 11400 South #224 | Sandy, UT 84070 If you want to re-move messages from our list click here or write us: Free Bird Research 2220 Meridian Blvd Suite #AD666 Minden, NV 89423 modificato /HTTPS /quantified /cotizaciones /Eradicate /soumises /unter /centre sookie /hitting /vende /pavillons /interchange /lijken /navigateur /loosened babble /leibenluft /1998 /Unions /oneness /tube /generated /premiers registra /veyron /Pueblos /ourl /costs /recognized /rube /recommend /fade left /psychosis /copia /ringer /slog /plants /yuan /print /terminal /forfait uhr /mercredi /Rect /Jet /cfdocs /engine /P4 /wynken /footer /ucm /otherwise jacket /pancrase /ML /coworkers outreach /insightful /Prospective /4678 irene /amsterdam /functon /contribution /opmerking /lja /ul /xitem /functon fragen /road /riga /AU /september /ieden /CAD /wrapped /pudding /enduser integrate /slices /ul /Loft /CLIENTSIDE /stuurde /ballsiest /vermittelt /Turner herself /xitem /era Class /viewpoint /GRANTED /wifu /mistake /minnesota /footerlink /napoli /dunked webbl /rsta /buch /reverent /guys /FlikTeshudapiDouchiWeCiGaSpey /on at /stil /gameid /rwd /dial /excoriate /2nd /austerity /disclaim /sas architecture /ourl /generation /reilly /pictos /folding /formatting McArdle /exports /3122 /machtiging /friends /signups /amount /mica /wanted dominate /inconclusive Syed /mica /California /Rita /available /curbside /sainsbury oneness /collaboration /Baden /carvalho /adoring /guerra /player agriculture /registra /EGift /roundly> station /toujours /cathartic /Josh /rnummer /half /terminal /fashion /corner xxx /problems /smells /alpha /acqui /researchers /functon /leibenluft /ieden pubs /processual /Specimen /n /factur /runtime /contribution /mpeg /footman /idea apparatus /blank /Flies /discounted /positive /routes /routes /lacks /feedlots Cornell /booze /have /areas /broadcast /12pt /jun /kunde /disputes /6 /glas Tower /provide /aparte /live /Bill /069-0449 /Bennett /arriva /vantaggi /251-1188 Cuomo /profile /introductory /boucherville /connections /varit /retainer /toll Academia /koor /Fussball /activation /Penetrating /forbes /abercrombie

View email in a web browser Get assurance with insurance Life is unpredictable. Don't let an accident or illness affect your family. Protect yourself and them - with no exams or waiting period. This message is an advertisement. If you would prefer not to receive future email from us, or if you've changed your email address please click here to unsubscribe or write to us at: 3625 Piedmont Row #308, Charlotte, NC 28210. © Copyright 2015 All rights reserved PO Box 7367 PMB 17425 Los Angeles, CA 90007 Unsubscribe Here Gru /extensive /die /allemaal /extension /Med /saving /ration /old /saat /ISO /3042 Howells /general /Thank /multiplies /led /JENNIFER /second /lyngbyeae /disastrous OK /XX /axhwjvf /regular /al /PermSize /3D3D128m /desto /beenBelleville /Iran James /verdriet /Moz /other /parliamentarians /scroll /Courts /ozyys /separately tanrmxd /policy /ghzyrr /jspuky /collector /filth /Spozen /EMAIL /Romania /P'North KEPNER /looks /polnish /straight /Contact /Times /III /face /p /3D /IIIMMMMHHH mais /fon /account /99-E75-account /Deportes /unless /8748-3323 /binnen /changed There /Section1 /straightEeeeba /10934 /s /HMMMHMMHHMMMMHIII /first closeoutsINICIA /rolando3Dsize /seguinte /amp'mechanical /another /de /MotoGP instant /w___ /_0822-1831-14-PART-BREAK /generosity /S /SSSSSSSSS 1184345329nN13256457 /notAeee /regras /pessoal /daarbuiten? mellan /De /filtered /group /changesapartado /setting /website /embargo /bsp changes /ideology /quatro /eper /Maybefala /Trouble /accordingly nonprescription /3D /target /_blank /118435097 /Ralph" chromosomes /Forward3Dsize /change /is /Bravo /upgrade /zelfstuurinrichting? Straight /nothing /KERSHNER /within /variedades /ampfirst /personer 35058B10 /_NextPart_000_0000_01C7B5F1 /formula1 /ampassegurar /not finns /3D /size /April /RICHTEL /3 /exceptional /servant /ampchannel /sendo /f" hindering /drugselling /643 /compact /Mail /trustees /herrie calgary /ffzaxcgm /rhythms /rehybridize /Dagos /E /ashx /lizard /chevron /include. superhero /meekenesse /ignoring /feute /bisous /shaping /Well /Catastrophe Asian /naviform /buber /Stopping /ony /462120 /in_page_id /sanctioned cgkancdioghgyym /dress /armas /membership /dgt /diploplacula /abbreviation forbid /Italy /undeterred /ribas /adversaires /overpast /separate /an my /steppingstones /Rubrique /Deixar /r /Source /talent /16 /every /utm /VLINK

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It's simply the only way to become energy independent. Ultimately this is about taking action today, so that you will never again be forced to pay hundreds of dollars per month. "Sky Power Generator" is a digital program available for download in the next 2 minutes. It gives you immediate access to the step-by- step video guide that shows you how to get free electricity from atmosphere in just 2 hours. You'll save hundreds of dollars each month and $3000 or more each year. ...and never worry again about leaving the lights on or having to turn the heat down. More than 23,000 people have already made the investment in the "Sky Power Generator" program Findout Here electricity is the pattern of electrical charges in the Earth's atmosphere (or less commonly, that of another planet). The normal movement of electric charges among the Earth's surface, the various layers of the atmosphere, and especially the ion nosphere, taken together, are known as the global atmospheric electrical circuit. Much of the reasoning requ gsn ired to explain these currents lies within the field of electrostatics, but also requires understanding of other disciplines within Earth science.detonating sparks drawn from e snlectrical machines and from Leyden jars suggested to the early experimenters, Hauksbee, Newton, Wall, Nollet, and Gray, that lightning and thunder were due to electric discharges.[[8]] In 1708, Dr. William Wall was one of the first to observe that spark discharges resembled miniat dgsn ure lightning, after observing the sparks from a charged piece of ambe downloadable /allerdings /varit /Summary /adress /asie /explained /cordonedvullen /knock /shift /do /permettrait /abusing /altere /1211 /modelo /s Benjamin /Obituaries /tuan /ensino /plano /Royal /ggf /account /TI / xdgsn coralFRASE /technische /photographed /herself /degauss /korta /piece /modificatosuprise /tennessee /flooding /commandez /somewhat /irregular /technischefunctontravels /crymodificato /HTTPS /quantified /cotizaciones /Eradicate /soumises /unter /centresookie /hitting /vende /pavillons /interchange /lijken /navigateur /loosenedbabble /leibenluft /1998 /Unions /oneness /tube /generated /premiers registra /veyron /Pueblos /ourl /costs /recognized /rube /recommend /fadeleft /psychosis /copia /ringer /slog /plants /yuan /print /terminal /forfait uhr /mercredi /Rect /Jet /cfdocs /engine /P4 /wynken /footer /ucm /otherwiseacket /pancrase /ML /coworkersoutreach /insightful /Prospective /4678Further work was conducted by Otto von Guericke, Robert Boyle, Stephen Gray and C. F. du Fay. In the 18th century, Benjamin Franklin conducted vua0xdgn extensive research in electricity, selling his possessions to fund his work. In June 1752 he is reputed to have attached a metal key to the bottom of a dampened kite string and flown the kite in a storm-threatened sky.[11] A succession of sparks jumping from the key to the back vua0xdgn of his hand showed that lightning was indeed electrical in nature.[12] He also explained the apparently paradoxical behavior[13] of the Leyden jar as a device for storing large amounts of electrical charge in terms of electricity vua0xdgn consisting of both positive and negative charges.

Never Pay Full Price for Printer Ink Again! [1]Learn More [2]1ink [3][minima-antitrust] To die:--to sleep,--To sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have, shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause." "Do you realize that Ingersoll, by his teachings and his denunciations of what he termed the 'absurdities of orthodox religious beliefs,' has done more toward shaking faith in many church doctrines than any man of this age'? And, after all, is not his doctrine a sane one? He says, in effect: 'I can not believe these things. My reason revolts at them. They are repugnant to my intellect. I can not believe that a just God will punish one of His creatures for an honest opinion.' He denies that there is such a God as the churches hold out to us. He denies that the world was created in six days; that man was created in the manner described in the Bible, and that woman was created from man's rib He denies that miracles were ever performed, or that there was any evidence, reliable or authoritative, that they were ever performed. And yet he does not deny the existence of a future life. His doctrine on this point is, 'I know only the history of the past and the happenings of the present. I do not know, nor does any man know, anything of the future. Let us hope there is a life beyond the grave.' "The old poet, Omar, argues against a future life. You will recall these lines: "'Strange, is it not, that of the multitudes who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel, too.'" "The churches tell us we must have faith to be saved, but the great minds of the present age are not satisfied, any more than many of the great minds of the past were satisfied, to admit as a matter of faith the whole foundation of the Christian religion." "People want to be shown. They are not willing to rely upon poorly authenticated stories of what occurred several thousand years ago. The question presents itself to us: Is the world better, for its present beliefs than it formerly was, when religion was a matter of statute People may not be as religious as they once were, but they are certainly more humane. Women are no longer slaves, chattels, with unfeeling husbands. Slavery itself no longer exists in any civilized nation. Polygamy is not practiced to the extent that it was in Biblical days. The world progressed as fear ceased to rule the human mind." "But, pardon me," he added with infinite grace and a charming wave of. his hand, "you see your question has aroused in me the failing of the pedagogue. I have said more than I had intended." "How do your people," I asked, "look upon the material progress of the age?" "They are astounded," he answered. "Since the Modoc War many of my people have prospered. You have seen their farms, their houses, and noted their occupations. They are rich in lands and stock, and even in money. They have many comforts and even many luxuries in their homes. Some of them have traveled extensively, and they come back filled with awe and admiration with what the white man has done and is doing. I read the modern press, and many scientific works, and I am satisfied that man will fly in a few years more. Already the automobile is displacing the domestic animals. The telephone was a great triumph of science, next in importance to steam locomotion. But, are your people as happy with your modern methods, your crowded cities, your strenuous existence, as your forefathers were, who led the simple life? And where is this mad scramble, not for wealth alone, not for power but for mere existence, nothing more, that the human race is engaged in, going to end? Can you tell me? Take America, one of the newest civilized lands of the earth, how long will it be before her coal measures are exhausted? Her iron ores exhausted? Her forests will soon be a thing of the past Already you hear complaints that her fertile lands are not yielding as they once did, and your population is constantly increasing. With coal gone, with iron gone, with the land poverty stricken to a point where profitable production of cereals can no longer be had, what is to become of your teeming millions?" The Awakening. I assured him I could not answer these questions. That I had asked myself the same things a thousand times, and no answer came to me. I handed the professor another cigar. He lit it. Just then an old Indian woman clad in a calico wrapper, but bareheaded and barefooted, came down the road towards us. She stopped some fifty feet away, and in a shy, low voice, but in good English, she called him. "Papa, did you catch me a fish for dinner?" The professor turned his head, and seeing her, said to me, "Ah, here is my guardian angel, my wife," and then to her, holding up his trout, he said, "Yes, I have it. I am coming now." He arose, held out a dirty hand for me to shake, and in parting, said, "My dear sir, you can not imagine how much I have enjoyed our chance meeting, resulting from your poor pronunciation of two Indian words. When you return to your civilized surroundings, ask yourself, 'Are any of this mad throng as happy as the Indian I met at the Killican'." He joined his wife, and the aged pair passed into a brush hut beneath some stately pines. I, too, turned toward the wagon which was to carry me back to camp, meditating long and deeply on the remarks of this strolling compound of savagery and education. Environment is largely responsible for man's condition. Here was a man who had acquired considerable knowledge of the world and books, he was still a savage in his manner of life and in his habits. His manner of talking was forceful and natural, and his command of language remarkable. The ease and abandon with which he wielded the arguments of those who rail against the existence of a Divine Being would lead one, listening to him, to imagine himself in the lecture-room of some modern university. A Great Day's Sport on Warner's Ranch. Think of three days in the open! Three glorious days in the sunshine! "Far from the madding crowd!" Far from the rush and stir and whirl and hum of business! Far from the McNamara horror, and its sickening aftermath of jury bribing! A short time ago, whirling over good roads and bad roads, through orange groves with their loads of fruit, rapidly assuming golden hues; through miles and miles of vineyards, now 'reft of all leaves, vineyards in which the pruners were already busily at work; past acres and acres of ground being prepared for grain; through wooded canyons and pine-screened vales; ascending from almost sea level to upwards of 3000 feet--a party of us went to Warner's Ranch after the famous canvasback ducks. We left my home at 7:30 o'clock a. m., some of us in my machine, and two of the party in a runabout. Filled with the ambition of youth, the driver of the latter car reached Mr. William Newport's place in the Perris Valley, a run of seventy-six miles, in two hours and twenty minutes. We jogged along, reaching Newport's in three hours, and found the exultant, speed-crazed fiend waiting for us. He was loud in the praise of his speedy run. Of all of this take note a little later in the story. We lunched with Mr. Newport, and then took him with us. What a day it was! A radiant, dry, winter day! The whole earth was flooded with sunshine. Not a cloud was in the sky. The air was full of snap and electric energy. The atmosphere absolutely clear. We wound in and out of the canyons, over dry and running streams, always ascending, climbing the eastern shoulder of Mt. Palomar, not to the top, but to a pass by which the ranch is reached. Before 4 o'clock we were on Warner's Ranch. This property could well be described as the "Pamir" of Southern California. True, its elevation is but slight compared with the 16,000 feet of that great Asiatic country, bearing the name of "Pamir," where roams in all his freedom the true "Ovis Poli" or "Big Horn." The ranch comprises about 57,000 acres of land, and is the largest body of comparatively level land at even an elevation of 3500 feet in Southern California. It is an immense circular valley, rock ribbed and mountain bound. Out of it, through a narrow gorge to the southwest, flows the San Luis Rey River. The ranch is well watered. Much of it during the winter season is semi-bog or swamp land, and at all times affords wonderful grazing for stock. There are circling hills and level mesas and broad valleys here and there. Nestled between the hills are a number of mountain lakes, fed by innumerable springs around their edges. These lakes furnish food for the canvasback duck in the various grasses and other growths, of which they are extremely fond. First Bag. Contrary to good judgment, we drove to one of these lakes, and had half an hour's shooting that evening. We got about twenty birds. We proceeded to the hotel, and after drawing our birds, hung them up where they would freeze that night and not be in the sun while we were shooting next day. A cold north wind was blowing, which whistled mournfully through the cottonwoods, and suggested a night where plenty of blankets would be more than acceptable. ___________________________________ Change your options by visiting [4]here 8131 Vineland Ave. Box #93394 Orlando, FL 32821 References 1. http://www.lozareststop.com/virtual-dilates/b16*P861.cl6Q49HVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh1a7 2. http://www.lozareststop.com/virtual-dilates/b16*P861.cl6Q49HVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh1a7 3. http://www.lozareststop.com/ad9z86k1Hc7Y49gVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh6b0/icosahedra-pagan 4. http://www.lozareststop.com/retrospect-molest/33c8Ry9N1cFr8w49sVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjhb8r

Tactical LED Flashligh [1]Learn More [2]Tactical LED Flashlight [3][eb8X7aPu3doaQ98OVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh7bf] Tactical LED Flashlight Come, you men and women automobilists, get off the paved streets of Los Angeles and betake yourselves to the back country of San Diego county, where you can enjoy automobile life to the utmost during the summer. There drink in the pure air of the mountains, perfumed with the breath of pines and cedars, the wild lilacs, the sweet-pea vines, and a thousand aromatic shrubs and plants that render every hillside ever green from base to summit. Lay aside the follies of social conditions, and get back to nature, pure and unadorned, except with nature's charms and graces. To get in touch with these conditions, take your machines as best you can over any of the miserable roads, or rather apologies for roads, until you get out into the highway recently constructed from Basset to Pomona. Run into Pomona to Gary avenue, turn to the right and follow it to the Chino ranch; follow the winding roads, circling to the Chino hills, to Rincon, then on, over fairly good roads, to Corona. Pass through that city, then down the beautiful Temescal Canyon to Elsinore. Move on through Murrietta to Temecula. Three Routes. Beyond Temecula three routes are open to you. By one of them you keep to the left, over winding roads full of interest and beauty, through a great oak grove at the eastern base of Mt. Palomar. Still proceeding through a forest of scattering oaks, you presently reach Warner's ranch through a gate. Be sure and close all gates opened by you. Only vandals leave gates open when they should be closed. Warner's ranch is a vast meadow, mostly level, but sloping from northeast to southwest, with rolling hills and sunken valleys around its eastern edge. A chain of mountains, steep and timber laden, almost encircles the ranch. For a boundary mark on the northeastern side of the ranch, are steep, rocky and forbidding looking mountains. Beyond them, the desert. The ranch comprises some 57,000 acres, nearly all valley land. It is well watered, filled with lakes, springs, meadows and running streams, all draining to its lowest point, and forming the head waters of the San Luis Rey River. You follow the road by which you enter the ranch, to the left, and in a few miles' travel you bring up at Warner's Hot Springs, a resort famed for many years for the curative properties of its waters. The springs are now in charge of Mr. and Mrs. Stanford, and are kept in an admirable manner, considering all of the difficulties they labor under. The run from Los Angeles to the springs is about 140 miles, and can be made easily in a day. Once there, the choice of many interesting trips is open to you. Past Temecula. After leaving Temecula, another road much frequented by the autoists is the right hand road by the Red Mountain grade to Fallbrook, either to Del Mar, by way of Oceanside, or into the Escondido Valley by way of Bonsal, Vista and San Marcos. The third route, the center one between those I have described, leads to Pala. With a party of five in a six-cylinder Franklin car, I went over the latter route on April 20th, 1911. Every inch of the road was full of interest. We passed through Pala, with its ancient mission of that name, and its horde of Indian inhabitants. The children of the Indian school were having a recess, and they carried on just about in the same manner that so many "pale-faced" children would. Leaving Pala, we followed the main road along the left bank of the San Luis Rey River--where the San Diego Highway Commission is now doing work, which will, when finished, bring one to Warner's ranch by an easy grade--until we had gotten a few miles into the Pauma rancho. We crossed the Pauma Creek, and some distance beyond it we left the river to our right, turned sharply to the left, and ran up to the base of Smith's, or Palomar Mountain. Then came the grade up the mountain. If you are not stout-hearted, and haven't a powerful machine, avoid this beautiful drive. If you are not driving an air-cooled car, carry extra water with you. You will need it before you reach the top. The road is a narrow zigzag, making an ascent of 4000 feet in a distance of from ten to twelve miles of switch-backing around the face of a steep rock-ribbed mountain. To add to its difficulties, the turns are so short that a long car is compelled to back up to negotiate them. About an hour and a quarter is required to make the trip up the mountain. We did all of it on low gear. When the top is finally reached, the view of the surrounding country is simply beyond description. Belated Spring. The mountain oaks of great size and broad of bough, were not yet fully in leaf. Pines and cedars, and to my astonishment, many large sycamores, were mingled with the oaks. A gladsome crop of luscious grasses covered the earth. Shrubs and plants were bursting into bloom. As we moved on we saw several wild pigeons in graceful flight among the trees. After traveling the backbone of the mountain for some distance we came to a dimly marked trail, leading to the left. The "Major Domo" of our party said that this road led to Doane's Valley, and that we must go down it. It was a straight up and down road, with exceedingly abrupt pitches, in places damp and slippery, and covered with fallen leaves. At the bottom of the descent, which it would have been impossible to retrace, we came to a small stream. Directly in the only place where we could have crossed it a log stuck up, which rendered passage impossible. After a deal of prodding and hauling, we dislodged it and safely made the ford. Doane's Valley is one of those beauty spots which abound in the mountains of California. Its floor is a beautiful meadow, in which are innumerable springs. Surrounding this meadow is heavy timber, oaks, pines and giant cedars. Pauma Creek flows out of this meadow through a narrow gorge, which nature evidently intended should some day be closed with a dam to make of the valley a reservoir to conserve the winter waters. We followed a partially destroyed road through the meadow to its upper end. Then as high and dry land was within sight we attempted to cross a small, damp, but uncertain looking waterway. Wheels Stuck. The front wheels passed safely, but when the rear wheels struck it they went into the mud until springs and axles rested on the ground. Two full hours we labored before we left that mud hole. We gathered up timbers and old bridge material, then jacked up one wheel a little way, and got something under it to hold it there. The other side was treated the same way. By repeating the operation many times we got the wheels high enough to run some timbers crosswise beneath them. We put other timbers in front and pulled out. We soon reached Bailey's Hotel, a summer resort of considerable popularity. We continued up the grade until we came onto the main road left by us when we descended into Doane's Valley. We got up many more pigeons, graceful birds, which the Legislature of our State should protect before they are exterminated. We moved on through heavily timber-covered hills, up and down grade, and finally came out on the south side of the mountain overlooking the canyon, some 5000 feet deep, at the bottom of which ran the San Luis Rey River. What would have been a most beautiful scene was marred by a fog which had drifted up the canyon. But the cloud effect was marvelous. We were above the clouds. A more perfect sky no human being ever saw. The clouds, or fog banks, were so heavy that it looked as if we could have walked off into them. I never saw similar cloud effects anywhere else except from Mt. Lowe, near Los Angeles, and Mt. Tamalpais, in Marin County. Warner's Ranch. We now began our descent to Warner's Ranch. It was gradual enough for some distance, and the road and trees were as charming as any human being could desire. Finally we came out onto a point overlooking the ranch. The view was simply entrancing. Imagine a vast amphitheater of 57,000 acres, surrounded by hills, dotted here and there with lakes, with streams of water like threads of burnished silver glittering in the evening light, softened by the clouds hanging over the San Luis Rey River. There were no clouds on the ranch; they stopped abruptly at the southwest corner. This vast meadow was an emerald green, studded with brilliant colored flowers. Vast herds of cattle were peacefully completing their evening meal. The road down to the ranch follows a ridge, which is so steep that no machine has ever been able to ascend it. I held my breath and trusted to the good old car that has done so much for my comfort, safety and amusement. We were all glad when the bottom was reached. We forded the river and whirled away to Warner's Hot Springs, over good meadow roads, arriving there before 7 o'clock p. m. Some day these springs are going to be appreciated. Now only hardy travelers, as a rule, go there. Their medicinal qualities will in time be realized, and the people of Southern California will find that they have a Carlsbad within a short distance of Los Angeles, in San Diego County. We slept the sleep of the tired, weary tourist that night. Hot Baths. The following day we passed in bathing in the hot mineral waters, sightseeing and driving around the valley. Saturday morning at 7:30 o'clock we bade adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Stanford and left the ranch by way of the Rancho Santa Isabel. The rain god must have been particularly partial to this beautiful ranch this season. Nowhere on our trip did we see such a splendid growth of grass and flowers, such happy looking livestock, such an air of plenty and prosperity as we did here. Leaving the ranch at the Santa Isabel store, we took the Julian road, which place we reached after a few hours' riding over winding roads good to travel on, and through scenery which was a constant source of enjoyment. Julian is one of the early settlements of San Diego County. Mining has been carried on there with varying successes and disappointments these many years. Now apple raising is its great industry. The hillsides are given over to apple culture. The trees are now laden with blossoms. As we topped a hill or crossed a divide before beginning an ascent or descent, the view backward of the apple orchards, peeping up over slight elevations in the clearings, was extremely beautiful. Leaving Julian, we whirled along over splendid roads through a rolling country, given over to fruit farming, stock raising and pasturage. We next reached Cuyamaca and visited the dam of that name, which impounds the winter rains for the San Diego Flume Company. The country around the lake showed a deficiency of rainfall. The lake was far from full. We took our lunch at the clubhouse near the dam. After resting in the shade of the friendly oaks we then pursued our journey to Descanso. We passed through Alpine and finally entered the El Cajon Valley, famed far and wide for its muscatel grapes, which seem especially adapted to its dark red soil. The vines were in early leaf, and not as pleasing to the eye as they will be when in full bloom. Then came Bostonia, a comparatively new settlement, Rosamond, La Mesa, and finally we whirled off on a splendid road, through an unsettled country overgrown with sage and shrubs, to Del Mar. The sky was overcast all the afternoon. A stiff ocean breeze blew inland, cool and refreshing. The entire day had been spent amid scenes of rare beauty. The wild flowers are not yet out in profusion, but enough were there to give the traveler an idea of what can be expected in floral offerings later in the season. It was early Spring wherever the elevation was 3500 feet or better. The oaks were not yet in leaf, the sycamores just out in their new spring dresses, the wild pea blossoms just beginning to open and cast their fragrance to the breezes. ___________________________________ Change your options by visiting [4]here 2220 Meridian Blvd.,Suite #763, Minden, NV 89423 References 1. http://www.hkewn.com/quaker-bettered/9ae8Jr63gd6GS98uVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh2b5 2. http://www.hkewn.com/quaker-bettered/9ae8Jr63gd6GS98uVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh2b5 3. http://www.hkewn.com/calloused-triers/5d08*N63dp7kk98sVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjha35 4. http://www.hkewn.com/a7ft89F3dI8W98zVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjhc50/sticky-Christianizers

Unable to view this Ad at all? [1]Please browse this. [2]View Substance Abuse Solutions [3][c60EU7a1cD4*48FVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh836] suspicion something and raise whoop-jamboreehoo. I do not wish any reward but to know I have done the right thing. UNKNOWN FRIEND. [y6]] I was such a miscreant in those days--now fifteen years ago--that the close proximity of a sorceress did not make me recoil in horror. " So be it!" I thought. " Last week I ate my supper with a highway robber. To-day I' ll go and eat ices with a servant of the devil. A traveller should see everything." I had yet another motive for prosecuting her acquaintance. When I left college--I acknowledge it with shame--I had wasted a certain amount of time in studying occult science, and had even attempted, more than once, to exorcise the powers of darkness. Though I had been cured, long since, of my passion for such investigations, I still felt a certain attraction and curiosity with regard to all superstitions, and I was delighted to have this opportunity of discovering how far the magic art had developed among the gipsies. Talking as we went, we had reached the /neveria/, and seated ourselves at a little table, lighted by a taper protected by a glass globe. I then had time to take a leisurely view of my /gitana/, while several worthy individuals, who were eating their ices, stared open-mouthed at beholding me in such gay company. I very much doubt whether Senorita Carmen was a pure-blooded gipsy. At all events, she was infinitely prettier than any other woman of her race I have ever seen. For a women to be beautiful, they say in Spain, she must fulfil thirty /ifs/, or, if it please you better, you must be able to define her appearance by ten adjectives, applicable to three portions of her person. For instance, three things about her must be black, her eyes, her eyelashes, and her eyebrows. Three must be dainty, her fingers, her lips, her hair, and so forth. For the rest of this inventory, see Brantome. My gipsy girl could lay no claim to so many perfections. Her skin, though perfectly smooth, was almost of a copper hue. Her eyes were set obliquely in her head, but they were magnificent and large. Her lips, a little full, but beautifully shaped, revealed a set of teeth as white as newly skinned almonds. Her hair--a trifle coarse, perhaps--was black, with blue lights on it like a raven' s wing, long and glossy. Not to weary my readers with too prolix a description, I will merely add, that to every blemish she united some advantage, which was perhaps all the more evident by contrast. There was something strange and wild about her beauty. Her face astonished you, at first sight, but nobody could forget it. Her eyes, especially, had an expression of mingled sensuality and fierceness which I had never seen in any other human glance. " Gipsy' s eye, wolf' s eye!" is a Spanish saying which denotes close observation. If my readers have no time to go to the " Jardin des Plantes" to study the wolf' s expression, they will do well to watch the ordinary cat when it is lying in wait for a sparrow. It will be understood that I should have looked ridiculous if I had proposed to have my fortune told in a /cafe /. I therefore begged the pretty witch' s leave to go home with her. She made no difficulties about consenting, but she wanted to know what o' clock it was again, and requested me to make my repeater strike once more. " Is it really gold?" she said, gazing at it with rapt attention. When we started off again, it was quite dark. Most of the shops were shut, and the streets were almost empty. We crossed the bridge over the Guadalquivir, and at the far end of the suburb we stopped in front of a house of anything but palatial appearance. The door was opened by a child, to whom the gipsy spoke a few words in a language unknown to me, which I afterward understood to be /Romany/, or /chipe calli/--the gipsy idiom. The child instantly disappeared, leaving us in sole possession of a tolerably spacious room, furnished with a small table, two stools, and a chest. I must not forget to mention a jar of water, a pile of oranges, and a bunch of onions. As soon as we were left alone, the gipsy produced, out of her chest, a pack of cards, bearing signs of constant usage, a magnet, a dried chameleon, and a few other indispensable adjuncts of her art. Then she bade me cross my left hand with a silver coin, and the magic ceremonies duly began. It is unnecessary to chronicle her predictions, and as for the style of her performance, it proved her to be no mean sorceress. Unluckily we were soon disturbed. The door was suddenly burst open, and a man, shrouded to the eyes in a brown cloak, entered the room, apostrophizing the gipsy in anything but gentle terms. What he said I could not catch, but the tone of his voice revealed the fact that he was in a very evil temper. The gipsy betrayed neither surprise nor anger at his advent, but she ran to meet him, and with a most striking volubility, she poured out several sentences in the mysterious language she had already used in my presence. The word /payllo/, frequently reiterated, was the only one I understood. I knew that the gipsies use it to describe all men not of their own race. Concluding myself to be the subject of this discourse, I was prepared for a somewhat delicate explanation. I had already laid my hand on the leg of one of the stools, and was studying within myself to discover the exact moment at which I had better throw it at his head, when, roughly pushing the gipsy to one side, the man advanced toward me. Then with a step backward he cried: " What, sir! Is it you?" I looked at him in my turn and recognised my friend Don Jose. At that moment I did feel rather sorry I had saved him from the gallows. " What, is it you, my good fellow?" I exclaimed, with as easy a smile as I could muster. " You have interrupted this young lady just when she was foretelling me most interesting things!" " The same as ever. There shall be an end to it!" he hissed between his teeth, with a savage glance at her. Meanwhile the /gitana/ was still talking to him in her own tongue. She became more and more excited. Her eyes grew fierce and bloodshot, her features contracted, she stamped her foot. She seemed to me to be earnestly pressing him to do something he was unwilling to do. What this was I fancied I understood only too well, by the fashion in which she kept drawing her little hand backward and forward under her chin. I was inclined to think she wanted to have somebody' s throat cut, and I had a fair suspicion the throat in question was my own. To all her torrent of eloquence Don Jose' s only reply was two or three shortly spoken words. At this the gipsy cast a glance of the most utter scorn at him, then, seating herself Turkish-fashion in a corner of the room, she picked out an orange, tore off the skin, and began to eat it. Don Jose took hold of my arm, opened the door, and led me into the street. We walked some two hundred paces in the deepest silence. Then he stretched out his hand. " Go straight on," he said, " and you' ll come to the bridge." That instant he turned his back on me and departed at a great pace. I took my way back to my inn, rather crestfallen, and considerably out of temper. The worst of all was that, when I undressed, I discovered my watch was missing. Various considerations prevented me from going to claim it next day, or requesting the /Corregidor/ to be good enough to have a search made for it. I finished my work on the Dominican manuscript, and went on to Seville. After several months spent wandering hither and thither in Andalusia, I wanted to get back to Madrid, and with that object I had to pass through Cordova. I had no intention of making any stay there, for I had taken a dislike to that fair city, and to the ladies who bathed in the Guadalquivir. Nevertheless, I had some visits to pay, and certain errands to do, which must detain me several days in the old capital of the Mussulman princes. The moment I made my appearance in the Dominican convent, one of the monks, who had always shown the most lively interest in my inquiries as to the site of the battlefield of Munda, welcomed me with open arms, exclaiming: ___________________________________ Change your options by visiting [4]here 2220 Meridian Blvd.,Suite #763, Minden, NV 89423 References Visible links 1. http://www.lotterinia.com/Khmer-ideals/cf68gn61icO0g48gVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh1a7 2. http://www.lotterinia.com/Khmer-ideals/cf68gn61icO0g48gVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh1a7 3. http://www.lotterinia.com/d4f8Mk61cmW1Y48MVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjhd7d/democratically-quince 4. http://www.lotterinia.com/31dl89S1XcO2u-48lVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh982/rioting-Gaelicizes Hidden links: 5. http://www.lotterinia.com/Khmer-ideals/cf68gn61icO0g48gVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjh1a7

[1]Medical Assistant Training Sponsored Listings [LINK]-[2][USEMAP:img0297569326.png] __________________________________________________________________ Periodically, MHC will inform our members of special offers or products from our valued business partners. If you wish to cancel future correspondence from MHC, please [3]visit here. You are receiving this message from MHC because you are a valued member. MHC respects your privacy and should you choose to unsubscribe we will honor your request. For more information or for general questions regarding your email subscription please write to us using the address below. The MediaHausConnection, 2885 Sandford Ave, SW #38214, Grandville, MI 49418, USA. A(c) 2016. All rights reserved References 1. http://www.lchyr.com/l/lt1CY1762MT297R/569PJ975J9563GI357D3002752TU1496212766 2. LYNXIMGMAP:file://localhost/tmp/tmpv9y4ei.html#Map 3. http://www.lchyr.com/unsRL1762X297BP/569UX975E9563IA357QE3002752K1496212766 [USEMAP] file://localhost/tmp/tmpv9y4ei.html#Map 1. http://www.lchyr.com/l/lc2LU1762JP297H/569IM975J9563IA357G3002752CP1496212766

Unable to view our Advertisement at all? [1]Go ahead and click here. [2]Explore Solar Panel Options [3][12z7MOa3dyCA3h97DVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0Mjhb9e] [4][24cBJ7az3qd4n97vVmKinvVvjiKydtOiOKyjtvnVndsjmWhFmjjVnYOL0MjhWd5] Explore Solar Panel Options In this country he is only known as Jose Navarro, but he has another Basque name, which neither your nor I will ever be able to pronounce. By the way, the man is worth seeing, and you, who like to study the peculiar features of each country, shouldn't lose this chance of noting how a rascal bids farewell to this world in Spain. He is in jail, and Father Martinez will take you to him." So bent was my Dominican friend on my seeing the preparations for this "neat little hanging job" that I was fain to agree. I went to see the prisoner, having provided myself with a bundle of cigars, which I hoped might induce him to forgive my intrusion I was ushered into Don Jose's presence just as he was sitting at table. He greeted me with a rather distant nod, and thanked me civilly for the present I had brought him. Having counted the cigars in the bundle I had placed in his hand, he took out a certain number and returned me the rest, remarking that he would not need any more of them. I inquired whether by laying out a little money, or by applying to my friends, I might not be able to do something to soften his lot. He shrugged his shoulders, to begin with, smiling sadly. Soon, as by an after-thought, he asked me to have a mass said for the repose of his soul. Then he added nervously: "Would you--would you have another said for a person who did you a wrong?" "Assuredly I will, my dear fellow," I answered. "But no one in this country has wronged me so far as I know." He took my hand and squeezed it, looking very grave. After a moment's silence, he spoke again. "Might I dare to ask another service of you? When you go back to your own country perhaps you will pass through Navarre. At all events you'll go by Vittoria, which isn't very far off." "Yes," said I, "I shall certainly pass through Vittoria. But I may very possibly go round by Pampeluna, and for your sake, I believe I should be very glad to do it." "Well, if you do go to Pampeluna, you'll see more than one thing that will interest you. It's a fine town. I'll give you this medal," he showed me a little silver medal that he wore hung around his neck. "You'll wrap it up in paper"--he paused a moment to master his emotion --"and you'll take it, or send it, to an old lady whose address I'll give you. Tell her I am dead--but don't tell her how I died." I promised to perform his commission. I saw him the next day, and spent part of it in his company From his lips I learned the sad incidents that follow. CHAPTER III "I was born," he said, "at Elizondo, in the valley of Baztan. My name is Don Jose Lizzarrabengoa, and you know enough of Spain, sir, to know at once, by my name, that I come of an old Christian and Basque stock. I call myself Don, because I have a right to it, and if I were at Elizondo I could show you my parchment genealogy. My family wanted me to go into the church, and made me study for it, but I did not like work. I was too fond of playing tennis, and that was my ruin. When we Navarrese begin to play tennis, we forget everything else. One day, when I had won the game, a young fellow from Alava picked a quarrel with me. We took to our /maquilas/,* and I won again. But I had to leave the neighbourhood. I fell in with some dragoons, and enlisted in the Almanza Cavalry Regiment. Mountain folks like us soon learn to be soldiers. Before long I was a corporal, and I had been told I should soon be made a sergeant, when, to my misfortune, I was put on guard at the Seville Tobacco Factory. If you have been to Seville you have seen the great building, just outside the ramparts, close to the Guadalquivir; I can fancy I see the entrance, and the guard room just beside it, even now. When Spanish soldiers are on duty, they either play cards or go to sleep. I, like an honest Navarrese, always tried to keep myself busy. I was making a chain to hold my priming-pin, out of a bit of wire: all at once, my comrades said, 'there's the bell ringing, the girls are coming back to work.' You must know, sir, that there are quite four or five hundred women employed in the factory. They roll the cigars in a great room into which no man can go without a permit from the /Veintiquatro/,** because when the weather is hot they make themselves at home, especially the young ones. When the work-girls come back after their dinner, numbers of young men go down to see them pass by, and talk all sorts of nonsense to them. Very few of those young ladies will refuse a silk mantilla, and men who care for that sort of sport have nothing to do but bend down and pick their fish up. While the others watched the girls go by, I stayed on my bench near the door. I was a young fellow then--my heart was still in my own country, and I didn't believe in any pretty girls who hadn't blue skirts and long plaits of hair falling on their shoulders.*** And besides, I was rather afraid of the Andalusian women. I had not got used to their ways yet; they were always jeering one--never spoke a single word of sense. So I was sitting with my nose down upon my chain, when I heard some bystanders say, 'Here comes the /gitanella/!' Then I lifted up my eyes, and I saw her! It was that very Carmen you know, and in whose rooms I met you a few months ago. * Iron-shod sticks used by the Basques. ** Magistrate in charge of the municipal police arrangements, and local government regulations. *** The costume usually worn by peasant women in Navarre and the Basque Provinces. "She was wearing a very short skirt, below which her white silk stockings--with more than one hole in them--and her dainty red morocco shoes, fastened with flame-coloured ribbons, were clearly seen. She had thrown her mantilla back, to show her shoulders, and a great bunch of acacia that was thrust into her chemise. She had another acacia blossom in the corner of her mouth, and she walked along, swaying her hips, like a filly from the Cordova stud farm. In my country anybody who had seen a woman dressed in that fashion would have crossed himself. At Seville every man paid her some bold compliment on her appearance. She had an answer for each and all, with her hand on her hip, as bold as the thorough gipsy she was. At first I didn't like her looks, and I fell to my work again. But she, like all women and cats, who won't come if you call them, and do come if you don't call them, stopped short in front of me, and spoke to me. " '/Compadre/,' said she, in the Andalusian fashion, 'won't you give me your chain for the keys of my strong box?' " 'It's for my priming-pin,' said I. " 'Your priming-pin!' she cried, with a laugh. 'Oho! I suppose the gentleman makes lace, as he wants pins!' "Everybody began to laugh, and I felt myself getting red in the face, and couldn't hit on anything in answer. " 'Come, my love!' she began again, 'make me seven ells of lace for my mantilla, my pet pin-maker!' "And taking the acacia blossom out of her mouth she flipped it at me with her thumb so that it hit me just between the eyes. I tell you, sir, I felt as if a bullet had struck me. I didn't know which way to look. I sat stock-still, like a wooden board. When she had gone into the factory, I saw the acacia blossom, which had fallen on the ground between my feet. I don't know what made me do it, but I picked it up, unseen by any of my comrades, and put it carefully inside my jacket. That was my first folly. "Two or three hours later I was still thinking about her, when a panting, terrified-looking porter rushed into the guard-room. He told us a woman had been stabbed in the great cigar-room, and that the guard must be sent in at once. The sergeant told me to take two men, and go and see to it. I took my two men and went upstairs. Imagine, sir, that when I got into the room, I found, to begin with, some three hundred women, stripped to their shifts, or very near it, all of them screaming and yelling and gesticulating, and making such a row that you couldn't have heard God's own thunder. On one side of the room one of the women was lying on the broad of her back, streaming with blood, with an X newly cut on her face by two strokes of a knife. Opposite the wounded woman, whom the best-natured of the band were attending, I saw Carmen, held by five or six of her comrades. The wounded woman was crying out, 'A confessor, a confessor! I'm killed!' Carmen said nothing at all. She clinched her teeth and rolled her eyes like a chameleon. 'What's this?' I asked. I had hard work to find out what had happened, for all the work-girls talked at once. It appeared that the injured girl had boasted she had money enough in her pocket to buy a donkey at the Triana Market. 'Why,' said Carmen, who had a tongue of her own, 'can't you do with a broom?' Stung by this taunt, it may be because she felt herself rather unsound in that particular, the other girl replied that she knew nothing about brooms, seeing she had not the honour of being either a gipsy or one of the devil's godchildren, but that the Senorita Carmen would shortly make acquaintance with her donkey, when the /Corregidor/ took her out riding with two lackeys behind her to keep the flies off. 'Well,' retorted Carmen, 'I'll make troughs for the flies to drink out of on your cheeks, and I'll paint a draught-board on them!'* And thereupon, slap, bank! She began making St. Andrew's crosses on the girl's face with a knife she had been using for cutting off the ends of the cigars. * /Pintar un javeque/, "paint a xebec," a particular type of ship. Most Spanish vessels of this description have a checkered red and white stripe painted around them. "The case was quite clear. I took hold of Carmen's arm 'Sister mine,' I said civilly, 'you must come with me.' She shot a glance of recognition at me, but she said, with a resigned look: 'Let's be off. Where is my mantilla?' She put it over her head so that only one of her great eyes was to be seen, and followed my two men, as quiet as a lamb. When we got to the guardroom the sergeant said it was a serious job, and he must send her to prison. I was told off again to take her there. I put her between two dragoons, as a corporal does on such occasions. We started off for the town. The gipsy had begun by holding her tongue. But when we got to the /Calle de la Serpiente/--you know it, and that it earns its name by its many windings--she began by dropping her mantilla on to her shoulders, so as to show me her coaxing little face, and turning round to me as well as she could, she said: " '/Oficial mio/, where are you taking me to?' " 'To prison, my poor child,' I replied, as gently as I could, just as any kind-hearted soldier is bound to speak to a prisoner, and especially to a woman. " 'Alack! What will become of me! Senor Oficial, have pity on me! You are so young, so good-looking.' Then, in a lower tone, she said, 'Let me get away, and I'll give you a bit of the /bar lachi/, that will make every woman fall in love with you!' "The /bar lachi/, sir, is the loadstone, with which the gipsies declare one who knows how to use it can cast any number of spells. If you can make a woman drink a little scrap of it, powdered, in a glass of white wine, she'll never be able to resist you. I answered, as gravely as I could: " 'We are not here to talk nonsense. You'll have to go to prison. Those are my orders, and there's no help for it!' "We men from the Basque country have an accent which all Spaniards easily recognise; on the other hand, not one of them can ever learn to say /Bai, jaona/!* * Yes, sir. "So Carmen easily guessed I was from the Provinces. You know, sir, that the gipsies, who belong to no particular country, and are always moving about, speak every language, and most of them are quite at home in Portugal, in France, in our Provinces, in Catalonia, or anywhere else. They can even make themselves understood by Moors and English people. Carmen knew Basque tolerably well. " '/Laguna ene bihotsarena/, comrade of my heart,' said she suddenly. 'Do you belong to our country?' "Our language is so beautiful, sir, that when we hear it in a foreign country it makes us quiver. I wish," added the bandit in a lower tone, "I could have a confessor from my own country." After a silence, he began again. " 'I belong to Elizondo,' I answered in Basque, very much affected by the sound of my own language. " 'I come from Etchalar,' said she (that's a district about four hours' journey from my home). 'I was carried off to Seville by the gipsies. I was working in the factory to earn enough money to take me back to Navarre, to my poor old mother, who has no support in the world but me, besides her little /barratcea/* with twenty cider-apple trees in it. Ah! if I were only back in my own country, looking up at the white mountains! I have been insulted here, because I don't belong to this land of rogues and sellers of rotten oranges; and those hussies are all banded together against me, because I told them that not all their Seville /jacques/,** and all their knives, would frighten an honest lad from our country, with his blue cap and his /maquila/! Good comrade, won't you do anything to help your own countrywoman?' * Field, garden. ** Bravos, boasters. "She was lying then, sir, as she has always lied. I don't know that that girl ever spoke a word of truth in her life, but when she did speak, I believed her--I couldn't help myself. She mangled her Basque words, and I believed she came from Navarre. But her eyes and her mouth and her skin were enough to prove she was a gipsy. I was mad, I paid no more attention to anything, I thought to myself that if the Spaniards had dared to speak evil of my country, I would have slashed their faces just as she had slashed her comrade's. 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I would say Bristol, Province of Maine, Massachusetts. Barbara -----Original Message----- From: TRANSITIONAL-GENEALOGISTS-FORUM [mailto:transitional-genealogists-forum-bounces@rootsweb.com] On Behalf Of Rob Weir Sent: Monday, August 15, 2016 1:43 PM To: debiham@comcast.net Cc: TRANSITIONAL-GENEALOGISTS-FORUM@rootsweb.com Subject: Re: [TGF] Birth in Maine before 1820 If your convention for this work is to refer to the period name for places (a good convention to have) you could say, "Bristol, District of Maine, Massachusetts." Regards, -Rob On Mon, Aug 15, 2016 at 12:57 PM, <debiham@comcast.net> wrote: > I've run into my first instance of having to record an event that happened in what is present-day Maine, but before Maine actually became a state in 1820. The record I have is a 1931 certification from a Maine town clerk regarding information in a family Bible presented to her for verification by an ancestor who was applying to the DAR. The clerk states "I find in said Bible the record of Reuben Lewis, born at Bristol, Maine, on December 8, 1793...married at Bristol, Maine on July 30, 1818..." > > What is the correct way to reflect the location of these events since the document references Maine, but Maine didn't exist at that time. At this point, I'm just putting the info into my RootsMagic database and would like to reflect it correctly, but not be confusing! > > Thanks for any advice. I've enjoyed being a "lurker" on this list for a couple years and always learn something new. > ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to TRANSITIONAL-GENEALOGISTS-FORUM-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

blockquote, div.yahoo_quoted { margin-left: 0 !important; border-left:1px #715FFA solid !important; padding-left:1ex !important; background-color:white !important; } Hi Kristine Rootsweb is a free service and the mailing lists are all public. If you send messages to any Rootsweb mailing list your email address can be used by anyone. The list admins can't change this. Some people set up a separate web based email just for mailing lists to deal with this, Gmail has a great spam filter, while others just press the delete button when unsolicited email arrives and move on to the next email, rather than remove themselves from the valuable conversations. If you decide to stay unsubbed you can always read the list from the public browsable ansd searchable archives.  RootsWeb: TRANSITIONAL-GENEALOGISTS-FORUM-L Archives  | | | RootsWeb: TRANSITIONAL-GENEALOGISTS-FORUM-L Archives | | | HTH  Michelle Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPad On Tuesday, August 16, 2016, 01:37, Kristine Evans <kristine.e.evans@gmail.com> wrote: I am unsubscribing because I've received two emails from solicitors. When the system is "fixed" I'd like very much to re-subscribe. What do you recommend? Kristine Kind regards, Kristine E. Evans 703.598.5500 - mobile ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to TRANSITIONAL-GENEALOGISTS-FORUM-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

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I've run into my first instance of having to record an event that happened in what is present-day Maine, but before Maine actually became a state in 1820. The record I have is a 1931 certification from a Maine town clerk regarding information in a family Bible presented to her for verification by an ancestor who was applying to the DAR. The clerk states "I find in said Bible the record of Reuben Lewis, born at Bristol, Maine, on December 8, 1793...married at Bristol, Maine on July 30, 1818..." What is the correct way to reflect the location of these events since the document references Maine, but Maine didn't exist at that time. At this point, I'm just putting the info into my RootsMagic database and would like to reflect it correctly, but not be confusing! Thanks for any advice. I've enjoyed being a "lurker" on this list for a couple years and always learn something new. Thanks Debi Ham

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If your convention for this work is to refer to the period name for places (a good convention to have) you could say, "Bristol, District of Maine, Massachusetts." Regards, -Rob On Mon, Aug 15, 2016 at 12:57 PM, <debiham@comcast.net> wrote: > I've run into my first instance of having to record an event that happened in what is present-day Maine, but before Maine actually became a state in 1820. The record I have is a 1931 certification from a Maine town clerk regarding information in a family Bible presented to her for verification by an ancestor who was applying to the DAR. The clerk states "I find in said Bible the record of Reuben Lewis, born at Bristol, Maine, on December 8, 1793...married at Bristol, Maine on July 30, 1818..." > > What is the correct way to reflect the location of these events since the document references Maine, but Maine didn't exist at that time. At this point, I'm just putting the info into my RootsMagic database and would like to reflect it correctly, but not be confusing! > > Thanks for any advice. I've enjoyed being a "lurker" on this list for a couple years and always learn something new. >

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