ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Louis Lambert, by Honore de BalzacThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Louis LambertAuthor: Honore de BalzacTranslator: Clara Bell and James WaringRelease Date: October,1999  [Etext #1943]Posting Date: March 6, 2010Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOUIS LAMBERT ***Produced by John Bickers, and DagnyLOUIS LAMBERTBy Honore DeBalzacTranslated by Clara Bell and James Waring                              DEDICATION                "Et nunc et semper dilectoe dicatum."LOUIS LAMBERTLouis Lambert was born at Montoire, a little town in theVendomois,where his father owned a tannery of no great magnitude, and intendedthat his son should succeed him; but his precocious bent for studymodified the paternal decision. For, indeed, the tanner and hiswifeadored Louis, their only child, and never contradicted him in anything.At the age of five Louis had begun by reading the Old and NewTestaments; and these two Books, including so many books, had sealed hisfate.Could that childish imagination understand the mystical depths ofthe Scriptures? Could it so early follow the flight of the Holy Spiritacross the worlds? Or was it merely attracted by the romantic toucheswhich abound inthose Oriental poems! Our narrative will answer thesequestions to some readers.One thing resulted from this first reading of the Bible: Louis went allover Montoire begging for books, and he obtained them by thosewinningways peculiar to children, which no one can resist. While devotinghimself to these studies under no sort of guidance, he reached the ageof ten.At that period substitutes for the army were scarce; richfamiliessecured them long beforehand to have them ready when the lots weredrawn. The poor tanner's modest fortune did not allow of theirpurchasing a substitute for their son, and they saw no means allowed bylawfor evading the conscription but that of making him a priest; so,in 1807, they sent him to his maternal uncle, the parish priest of Mer,another small town on the Loire, not far from Blois. This arrangement atoncesatisfied Louis' passion for knowledge, and his parents' wish notto expose him to the dreadful chances of war; and, indeed, his taste forstudy and precocious intelligence gave grounds for hoping that he mightrise to highfortunes in the Church.After remaining for about three years with his uncle, an old and notuncultured Oratorian, Louis left him early in 1811 to enter the collegeat Vendome, where he was maintained at the cost ofMadame de Stael.Lambert owed the favor and patronage of this celebrated lady to chance,or shall we not say to Providence, who can smooth the path of forlorngenius? To us, indeed, who do not see below the surfaceof human things,such vicissitudes, of which we find many examples in the lives of greatmen, appear to be merely the result of physical phenomena; to mostbiographers the head of a man of genius rises above the herdassome noble plant in the fields attracts the eye of a botanist inits splendor. This comparison may well be applied to Louis Lambert'sadventure; he was accustomed to spend the time allowed him by his unclefor holidaysat his father's house; but instead of indulging, after themanner of schoolboys, in the sweets of the delightful _far niente_ thattempts us at every age, he set out every morning with part of a loafand his books, and wentto read and meditate in the woods, to escapehis mother's remonstrances, for she believed such persistent study to beinjurious. How admirable is a mother's instinct! From that time readingwas in Louis a sort of appetitewhich nothing could satisfy; he devouredbooks of every kind, feeding indiscriminately on religious works,history, philosophy, and physics. He has told me that he foundindescribable delight in reading dictionaries for lackof other books,and I readily believed him. What scholar has not many a time foundpleasure in seeking the probable meaning of some unknown word? Theanalysis of a word, its physiognomy and history, would be toLambertmatter for long dreaming. But these were not the instinctive dreams bywhich a boy accustoms himself to the phenomena of life, steels himselfto every moral or physical perception--an involuntary educationwhichsubsequently brings forth fruit both in the understanding and characterof a man; no, Louis mastered the facts, and he accounted for them afterseeking out both the principle and the end with the mother wit ofasavage. Indeed, from the age of fourteen, by one of those startlingfreaks in which nature sometimes indulges, and which proved howanomalous was his temperament, he would utter quite simply ideas ofwhich thedepth was not revealed to me till a long time after."Often," he has said to me when speaking of his studies, "often have Imade the most delightful voyage, floating on a word down the abyss ofthe past, like an insectembarked on a blade of grass tossing on theripples of a stream. Starting from Greece, I would get to Rome, andtraverse the whole extent of modern ages. What a fine book mightbe written of the life and adventures ofa word! It has, of course,received various stamps from the occasions on which it has served itspurpose; it has conveyed different ideas in different places; but is itnot still grander to think of it under the three aspects ofsoul,body, and motion? Merely to regard it in the abstract, apart from itsfunctions, its effects, and its influence, is enough to cast one intoan ocean of meditations? Are not most words colored by the idea theyrepresent?Then, to whose genius are they due? If it takes greatintelligence to create a word, how old may human speech be? Thecombination of letters, their shapes, and the look they give to theword, are the exact reflection, inaccordance with the character of eachnation, of the unknown beings whose traces survive in us."Who can philosophically explain the transition from sensation tothought, from thought to word, from the word to itshieroglyphicpresentment, from hieroglyphics to the alphabet, from the alphabet towritten language, of which the eloquent beauty resides in a seriesof images, classified by rhetoric, and forming, in a sense,thehieroglyphics of thought? Was it not the ancient mode of representinghuman ideas as embodied in the forms of animals that gave rise to theshapes of the first signs used in the East for writing down language?Thenhas it not left its traces by tradition on our modern languages,which have all seized some remnant of the primitive speech of nations,a majestic and solemn tongue whose grandeur and solemnity decreaseascommunities grow old; whose sonorous tones ring in the Hebrew Bible,and still are noble in Greece, but grow weaker under the progress ofsuccessive phases of civilization?"Is it to this time-honored spirit that we owethe mysteries lyingburied in every human word? In the word _True_ do we not discern acertain imaginary rectitude? Does not the compact brevity of its soundsuggest a vague image of chaste nudity and the simplicityof Truth inall things? The syllable seems to me singularly crisp and fresh."I chose the formula of an abstract idea on purpose, not wishing toillustrate the case by a word which should make it too obvious totheapprehension, as the word _Flight_ for instance, which is a directappeal to the senses."But is it not so with every root word? They are all stamped with aliving power that comes from the soul, and which they restoreto thesoul through the mysterious and wonderful action and reaction betweenthought and speech. Might we not speak of it as a lover who finds onhis mistress' lips as much love as he gives? Thus, by theirmerephysiognomy, words call to life in our brain the beings which theyserve to clothe. Like all beings, there is but one place where theirproperties are at full liberty to act and develop. But the subjectdemands a scienceto itself perhaps!"And he would shrug his shoulders as much as to say, "But we are too highand too low!"Louis' passion for reading had on the whole been very well satisfied.The cure of Mer had two or three thousandvolumes. This treasure hadbeen derived from the plunder committed during the Revolution in theneighboring chateaux and abbeys. As a priest who had taken the oath,the worthy man had been able to choose the bestbooks from among theseprecious libraries, which were sold by the pound. In three years LouisLambert had assimilated the contents of all the books in his uncle'slibrary that were worth reading. The process of absorbingideas by meansof reading had become in him a very strange phenomenon. His eye tookin six or seven lines at once, and his mind grasped the sense with aswiftness as remarkable as that of his eye; sometimes evenone word in asentence was enough to enable him to seize the gist of the matter.His memory was prodigious. He remembered with equal exactitude the ideashe had derived from reading, and those which had occurredto him inthe course of meditation or conversation. Indeed, he had every form ofmemory--for places, for names, for words, things, and faces. He notonly recalled any object at will, but he saw them in his mind,situated,lighted, and colored as he had originally seen them. And this power hecould exert with equal effect with regard to the most abstract effortsof the intellect. He could remember, as he said, not merely thepositionof a sentence in the book where he had met with it, but the frame ofmind he had been in at remote dates. Thus his was the singular privilegeof being able to retrace in memory the whole life and progress ofhismind, from the ideas he had first acquired to the last thought evolvedin it, from the most obscure to the clearest. His brain, accustomed inearly youth to the mysterious mechanism by which human facultiesareconcentrated, drew from this rich treasury endless images full of lifeand freshness, on which he fed his spirit during those lucid spells ofcontemplation."Whenever I wish it," said he to me in his own language, towhich a fundof remembrance gave precocious originality, "I can draw a veil overmy eyes. Then I suddenly see within me a camera obscura, where naturalobjects are reproduced in purer forms than those under whichthey firstappeared to my external sense."At the age of twelve his imagination, stimulated by the perpetualexercise of his faculties, had developed to a point which permitted himto have such precise concepts of thingswhich he knew only from readingabout them, that the image stamped on his mind could not have beenclearer if he had actually seen them, whether this was by a process ofanalogy or that he was gifted with a sort ofsecond sight by which hecould command all nature."When I read the story of the battle of Austerlitz," said he to me oneday, "I saw every incident. The roar of the cannon, the cries of thefighting men rang in my ears,and made my inmost self quiver; I couldsmell the powder; I heard the clatter of horses and the voices of men; Ilooked down on the plain where armed nations were in collision, just asif I had been on the heights ofSanton. The scene was as terrifying asa passage from the Apocalypse." On the occasions when he brought all hispowers into play, and in some degree lost consciousness of his physicalexistence, and lived on only by theremarkable energy of his mentalpowers, whose sphere was enormously expanded, he left space behind him,to use his own words.But I will not here anticipate the intellectual phases of his life.Already, in spite of myself,I have reversed the order in which I oughtto tell the history of this man, who transferred all his activities tothinking, as others throw all their life into action.A strong bias drew his mind into mystical studies."_Abyssusabyssum_," he would say. "Our spirit is abysmal and lovesthe abyss. In childhood, manhood, and old age we are always eager formysteries in whatever form they present themselves."This predilection was disastrous; ifindeed his life can be measured byordinary standards, or if we may gauge another's happiness by our own orby social notions. This taste for the "things of heaven," another phrasehe was fond of using, this _mensdivinior_, was due perhaps to theinfluence produced on his mind by the first books he read at hisuncle's. Saint Theresa and Madame Guyon were a sequel to the Bible; theyhad the first-fruits of his manly intelligence,and accustomed him tothose swift reactions of the soul of which ecstasy is at once the resultand the means. This line of study, this peculiar taste, elevated hisheart, purified, ennobled it, gave him an appetite for thedivinenature, and suggested to him the almost womanly refinement of feelingwhich is instinctive in great men; perhaps their sublime superiority isno more than the desire to devote themselves which characterizeswoman,only transferred to the greatest things.As a result of these early impressions, Louis passed immaculate throughhis school life; this beautiful virginity of the senses naturallyresulted in the richer fervor of hisblood, and in increased facultiesof mind.The Baroness de Stael, forbidden to come within forty leagues of Paris,spent several months of her banishment on an estate near Vendome. Oneday, when out walking, she meton the skirts of the park the tanner'sson, almost in rags, and absorbed in reading. The book was a translationof _Heaven and Hell_. At that time Monsieur Saint-Martin, Monsieur deGence, and a few other French or halfGerman writers were almost theonly persons in the French Empire to whom the name of Swedenborg wasknown. Madame de Stael, greatly surprised, took the book from him withthe roughness she affected in herquestions, looks, and manners, andwith a keen glance at Lambert,--"Do you understand all this?" she asked."Do you pray to God?" said the child."Why? yes!""And do you understand Him?"The Baroness was silent for amoment; then she sat down by Lambert, andbegan to talk to him. Unfortunately, my memory, though retentive, is farfrom being so trustworthy as my friend's, and I have forgotten the wholeof the dialogue exceptingthose first words.Such a meeting was of a kind to strike Madame de Stael very greatly;on her return home she said but little about it, notwithstanding aneffusiveness which in her became mere loquacity; but itevidentlyoccupied her thoughts.The only person now living who preserves any recollection of theincident, and whom I catechised to be informed of what few words Madamede Stael had let drop, could with difficultyrecall these words spokenby the Baroness as describing Lambert, "He is a real seer."Louis failed to justify in the eyes of the world the high hopes he hadinspired in his protectress. The transient favor she showed himwasregarded as a feminine caprice, one of the fancies characteristic ofartist souls. Madame de Stael determined to save Louis Lambert alikefrom serving the Emperor or the Church, and to preserve him for thegloriousdestiny which, she thought, awaited him; for she made him outto be a second Moses snatched from the waters. Before her departure sheinstructed a friend of hers, Monsieur de Corbigny, to send her Moses induecourse to the High School at Vendome; then she probably forgot him.Having entered this college at the age of fourteen, early in 1811,Lambert would leave it at the end of 1814, when he had finished thecourse ofPhilosophy. I doubt whether during the whole time he everheard a word of his benefactress--if indeed it was the act of abenefactress to pay for a lad's schooling for three years without athought of his future prospects,after diverting him from a career inwhich he might have found happiness. The circumstances of the time, andLouis Lambert's character, may to a great extent absolve Madame de Staelfor her thoughtlessness and hergenerosity. The gentleman who was tohave kept up communications between her and the boy left Blois just atthe time when Louis passed out of the college. The political events thatensued were then a sufficient excusefor this gentleman's neglect ofthe Baroness' protege. The authoress of _Corinne_ heard no more of herlittle Moses.A hundred louis, which she placed in the hands of Monsieur de Corbigny,who died, I believe, in 1812,was not a sufficiently large sum to leavelasting memories in Madame de Stael, whose excitable nature found amplepasture during the vicissitudes of 1814 and 1815, which absorbed all herinterest.At this time LouisLambert was at once too proud and too poor to go insearch of a patroness who was traveling all over Europe. However, hewent on foot from Blois to Paris in the hope of seeing her, and arrived,unluckily, on the very dayof her death. Two letters from Lambert tothe Baroness remained unanswered. The memory of Madame de Stael's goodintentions with regard to Louis remains, therefore, only in some fewyoung minds, struck, as minewas, by the strangeness of the story.No one who had not gone through the training at our college couldunderstand the effect usually made on our minds by the announcement thata "new boy" had arrived, or theimpression that such an adventure asLouis Lambert's was calculated to produce.And here a little information must be given as to the primitiveadministration of this institution, originally half-military andhalf-monastic, toexplain the new life which there awaited Lambert.Before the Revolution, the Oratorians, devoted, like the Society ofJesus, to the education of youth--succeeding the Jesuits, in fact, incertain of their establishments--thecolleges of Vendome, of Tournon,of la Fleche, Pont-Levoy, Sorreze, and Juilly. That at Vendome, like theothers, I believe, turned out a certain number of cadets for the army.The abolition of educational bodies, decreedby the convention, had butlittle effect on the college at Vendome. When the first crisis had blownover, the authorities recovered possession of their buildings; certainOratorians, scattered about the country, came backto the collegeand re-opened it under the old rules, with the habits, practices,and customs which gave this school a character with which I have seennothing at all comparable in any that I have visited since I leftthatestablishment.Standing in the heart of the town, on the little river Loire which flowsunder its walls, the college possesses extensive precincts, carefullyenclosed by walls, and including all the buildings necessaryforan institution on that scale: a chapel, a theatre, an infirmary,a bakehouse, gardens, and water supply. This college is the mostcelebrated home of learning in all the central provinces, and receivespupils from themand from the colonies. Distance prohibits any frequentvisits from parents to their children.The rule of the House forbids holidays away from it. Once entered there,a pupil never leaves till his studies are finished. Withthe exceptionof walks taken under the guidance of the Fathers, everything iscalculated to give the School the benefit of conventual discipline; inmy day the tawse was still a living memory, and the classical leatherstrapplayed its terrible part with all the honors. The punishmentoriginally invented by the Society of Jesus, as alarming to the moralas to the physical man, was still in force in all the integrity of theoriginal code.Letters toparents were obligatory on certain days, so was confession.Thus our sins and our sentiments were all according to pattern.Everything bore the stamp of monastic rule. I well remember, amongother relics of the ancientorder, the inspection we went through everySunday. We were all in our best, placed in file like soldiers to awaitthe arrival of the two inspectors who, attended by the tutors and thetradesmen, examined us from thethree points of view of dress, health,and morals.The two or three hundred pupils lodged in the establishment weredivided, according to ancient custom, into the _minimes_ (the smallest),the little boys, the middle boys,and the big boys. The division ofthe _minimes_ included the eighth and seventh classes; the little boysformed the sixth, fifth, and fourth; the middle boys were classed asthird and second; and the first class comprisedthe senior students--ofphilosophy, rhetoric, the higher mathematics, and chemistry. Each ofthese divisions had its own building, classrooms, and play-ground, inthe large common precincts on to which the classroomsopened, and beyondwhich was the refectory.This dining-hall, worthy of an ancient religious Order, accommodated allthe school. Contrary to the usual practice in educational institutions,we were allowed to talk at ourmeals, a tolerant Oratorian rule whichenabled us to exchange plates according to our taste. This gastronomicalbarter was always one of the chief pleasures of our college life. If oneof the "middle" boys at the head of histable wished for a helping oflentils instead of dessert--for we had dessert--the offer was passeddown from one to another: "Dessert for lentils!" till some other epicurehad accepted; then the plate of lentils was passed


<title>Alien 3 Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Alien 3 script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><meta name="keywords" content="Alien 3 script, Alien 3 movie script,Alien 3 film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW"><meta name=SubjectCONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet"type="text/css">

     <tdvalign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000">
The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)

 The web's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">            <tdwidth="180">
                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical<tralign="center">        #         A        B        C        <ahref="/alphabetical/D">D        E        F        G        H<tralign="center">         I        J        K        L        <ahref="/alphabetical/M">M        N        O        P        Q<tralign="center">         R        S        T        U        <ahref="/alphabetical/V">V        W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 ActionAdventure Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy Film-Noir
 <ahref="/genre/Horror">Horror Musical Mystery
 Romance <ahref="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

TV Transcripts
Futurama
 Seinfeld
 South Park
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 French scripts

MovieSoftware

 Rip from DVD
 <ahref="/software/rip-blu-ray">Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: The ForceAwakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <tdalign="center"><form class="yellbox" action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe"name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username" value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = ''; return;">Message</textarea>

 <buttononClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALL SCRIPTS

	<tdvalign="top">

 Alien III Screenplay by John Fasano     Story by Vincent Ward & John Fasano  FIRST DRAFT March 29, 1990"But how willyou die when your timecomes, Narcissus, since you have nomother?  Without a mother, one cannotlove.  Without a mother, one cannot die." - HesseALIEN IIITHE SCREEN IS BLACKA pinpoint of lightappears.Red.  An ember. Unseen BELLOWS blow.GLASS FURNACEThe embers glow.  Flame.The fire GROWS.A RIVER OF MOLTEN GLASSHeated by the furnace to over 1,300 degrees fahrenheit.White Hot.GLASS FACTORYFlickering flame casts dancing shadows on wooden walls.  Coarsely grained wood.  Moisture blasted out by years ofintense heat.  Timbers split.  Patched with new wood,it too nowold and dry.SMOKEBillows up the walls.Hangs as an angry, black cloud amongst the rafters and beams ofthe vaulted ceiling.  Almost obscures --A MANOn a narrow LEDGE, twenty feet about theGlassworks' floor. His clothing is Medieval.  A rough textured cassock. He is a MONK.LOUVERS are set into the wall.  He angles them open.The smoke begins to escape.The Monk turns, raises arms and LEAPS from hislofty perch --Gently gliding down to the floor with the aid of a FLOWING FOX --a primitive hand-held pulley that runs down a rope.He lands next to the glass furnace, surrounded by --MORE MONKSBy theirdress.  With Blowing Iron and Pontil.They blow and shape the molten glass.  Crack off the finishedpieces.  The old way.ONE PARTICULAR MONKBlack skinned, early fifties.Stirs his five foot long blowing iron inthe molten glass, buthe is watching something else.  It moves him to song.Lilting tenor lifts high into the air.This is BROTHER KYLE. BROTHER KYLE Well would he guess the ascending of the star, Wherein hispatient's fortunes settled were. He knew the course of every malady, Were it of cold or heat or moist or dry. Brother John, would-be Doctour of Physick.We see the object of his song:BROTHER JOHNNot yetforty.  Strong features, but fear behind the eyes.The fear that comes from a lack of inner confidence.A good face, nonetheless.He stirs a thick mixture in a mortar.Next to him another MONK sits holding his arm out infront ofhim, cassock sleeve rolled up, revealing a vicious BURN.        BROTHER KYLE Tend you quickly he will, with bottles from a shelf. But heals not, so easily, The ills which plague himself.Brother John stopsstirring.       BROTHER JOHN    (to Kyle) Enough.He scoops the salve out with his fingers and applies it to theBurned Monk's arm.  The Burned Monk INHALES sharpley as the coolmixture contacts the injuredarea.        BROTHER JOHN   (to the burned Monk) Relax.   (to Kyle) Put those lungs of yours to better use.      BROTHER KYLE Yes, Doc Tor.Kyle laughs, removes the blowing iron from the moltenglass --a BLOB of white hot glass hanging on the end.He rolls the blob on the Marver, a flat, polished piece of iron, then begins to blow a bottle shaped container. John wraps a fray-edged cloth bandage around theburn.      JOHN Keep this from getting wet.  Go home at late afternoon mealtime and don't come back to work today --      BURNED MONK But John --      JOHN I'll tell the Abbot.  Just resttoday. You're lucky you only burned yourself on the side of the furnace.  If some of that glass had gotten on your arm --He points to the top of his forearm.                 JOHN -- it would've burned clean throughto the other side.He mimes a drop down from the bottom of his arm.The Burned Monk shudders at the thought.  BELLS toll.              JOHN That's late afternoon.  Now get on. BURNEDMONK Thank you, John.  I --    JOHN You're welcome.  Go!The Burned Monk trundles off, injured arm against his chest.John gathers his mortar, pestle, and extra bandages into aburlap sack.  Kyle comesover.   KYLE Good work.   JOHN All right, but I'm no Father Anselm.     KYLE You're yourself, that's better...Kyle pushes him through the door...INTO THE HALLWAYThe Hallway isalive with cassocked monks.Their LOW CHANTING reverberates throughout the building.The wooden floorboards creak beneath their combined weights.This is obviously a MEDIEVAL MONASTERY... KYLE TheAbbot will be pleased. JOHN Don't. KYLE Don't what? JOHN Please don't tell him.  At least until I know if there's an infection. KYLE You want to be the Abbey's Physician, and youhaven't learned the first rule: Don't worry about the patient.John's face drops. KYLE I shouldn't have. Sorry.  Look, I know how you must -- JOHN You don't, but thanks anyway.AT THE END OFTHE HALLWAYA wide stairwell.  A constant stream of monks all moving downthe stairs.  Coming from floors above.  Headed for lunch.Kyle starts down.  John starts up -- KYLE Not coming down?JOHN I have someone waiting for me.Kyle disappears into the crowd.John moves up...THE STAIRWAYA river of brown cassocks running downstream.John is the only one moving against the flow.He exitsthe stairwell --ONE FLOOR UPA narrow corridor lined with doorways.John moves to one in particular.He doesn't even look as he grabs the door knob.This is his room.He opens the door --IN BROTHERJOHN'S ROOMAn old, worn out DOG lays in wait on an old, worn out cassockwhich is now serving as its bed.At the sight of John it stands. JOHN Come on, Mattias.The dog, MATTIAS, joins him in thehall.Monk and pet disappear up a flight of stairs. Past another dozen or so Monks who are on their way down.INT. LIBRARYA vast room filled with rows of wooden tables with low benchesbetween aisle afteraisle of floor-to-ceiling wooden shelvesjammed to capacity with BOOKS of all shapes and sizes.  Millionsof books, from the looks of it.From each book hangs a long CHAIN, long enough to allow the book to be carriedonly as far as the nearest table.A CORPULENT MONK - BROTHER PHILIPIn his fifties, and the Librarian by his stern affect, hisposition behind a broad, but also old oak desk, and the largeKEY hanging from hisbelt.  He watches the few stragglers returntheir chain bound volumes to the shelves and head for the door,then rises and joins them...IN THE CORRIDOR JUST OUTSIDE THE LIBRARYJohn leans against thewall as Philip exits.Mattias is nowhere to be seen.  PHILIP Brother John. JOHN Brother Philip. PHILIP Feeding the mind instead of the body again? JOHN My training has taught meto feed what's hungry.Philip pats his broad stomach and heads down the hallway. PHILIP As did mine.  As long as you're alone. Enjoy yourself -- and remember, no book leaves the library. JOHN Howcould I forget?  Have a good meal...John watches the corpulent librarian head down the stairs.When he's gone from sight John lifts the bottom of his cassockto reveal Mattias. JOHN Perfect.They move into thelibrary...THE MEDIEVAL SECTIONThe oldest books.John moves to the stacks.Mattias trots over to a particular bench and sits.This is his regular place.AT THE SHELVESJohn stands on toe tips toretrieve an ancient Tome.He runs his fingers over the familiar leather binding.A smile plays across his lips.He carries the book, places it on the edge of the table sothere is slack in the chain.Sits on the bench next to thedog.Clears his throat, opens the book, begins to read... John          (reading) In the year of our Lord 1348 I, Brother Gerhado of the Minorite Abbey helped bury the Abbot and my sixty fellow monks -- VOICEO/S Sometimes, I think you'd like that.John turns to find --THE ABBOTLeader of the monastery.  In his seventies but looks younger.His Cassock is adorned with a large, ornately carved, woodenCHAIN inplace of a rope belt.  He crosses to the table.John closes the book and stands, head bowed in respect. John Abbot, I -- I didn't think anyone would -- ABBOT Mind?  Just Philip, if he knew.  I passed him on theway up.  He said you'd come in alone.  I knew better.He scratches the back of Mattias' neck. ABBOT Hello, Mattias.  How are you, boy?The dog snuffles in response. ABBOT You know what Philip saysabout Mattias' hair and his breathing.  You'll have to take him out of here. JOHN He likes when I read to him and -- I can't --John looks down sheepishly.  Though nearly forty, he feelsalmost adolescent in thepresence of the Abbot.  The Abbot pulls a large key from his pocket. ABBOT     (smiles) Someone must have left this one unlocked. Take the book with you.He hands the key to John, who is shocked --this is agreat honor. JOHN Father, I --? ABBOT Kyle tells me you did a good job at the glassworks today. JOHN I'll reserve judgement until the patient lives.John crosses to the shelf and unlocks hisbook.He returns the key. ABBOT It will get easier.  Father Anselm was... an unexpected loss.  You'll do fine.The Abbot walks towards the door... ABBOT Just have it back before the end of lunch. Oh-- And I didn't see you in here. JOHN Thank you.       (to Mattias) Let's go upstairs, boy.John takes his book -- Moves to a spiral wooden staircase.Mattias at his heels.Goes UP --INTO THE BELLTOWERThe mechanics of the bell tower -- all ropes and wooden cogscast scary shadows.A doorway leads to --THE ROOF OF THE ABBEYThick with sandy dust.  The wood shows through thin patches.  WePULL BACK TO REVEAL what we think is the roof of the Abbeyis actually --THE SURFACE OF ARCEON - NIGHTThe door has opened onto the SURFACE OF A PLANTOID!The curving horizon broken only by thevery top of theAbbey bell tower poking through from the levels below.  SMOKE curls from vents set into the surface.Sunken areas of the planet's sirface are SEAS.This is ARCEON.An manmade orbiter.A shell oflightweight foamed steel, five miles in diameter.Constructed by The Company on Special Order with habitablelevel within finished in whatever material suits its end user.This orbiter, for reasons to be discovered later,has beensheathed in wood.JOHNWalks to the shore of an inland SEA.Sits on a bare patch of wood.  Looks up.His eyes grow accustomed to --THE NIGHT SKY - JOHN POVFreckled with tiny dots oflight.Stars.  Spread across the inky void.Bathe Arceon's surface with their celestial glow.John smiles at Mattias, breathes deep. The atmosphere up here is thinner, but fresher. He opens the book.Reads aloud --JOHN In the year of our Lord 1348 I, Brother Gerhado of the Minorite Abbey helped bury the Abbot and my sixty fellow monks, day by day, one by one, until I am the only one left.  I stayed as long as I could bearit, then with my dog -- Mattias lifts his ears at this part.  His favorite part. JOHN - fled.  I have put this to parchment lest this pestilence - this Black Death - stay my hand. (beat) This was finished by anotherhand...John closes the book.  Something catches his eye --Something among the myriad points of light in the sky.Millions of miles away:ONE OF THE STARSBrighter than the rest.  MOVING.Fast enough toleave a faint trail.Across the stars.  And down...A comet.John stands.  Watches --THE STARGrowing brighter.Drawing nearer.JOHNJoined by three other MONKS.They are older than he.The Four men


<title>12 Years a Slave Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="12 Years a Slave script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><meta name="keywords" content="12 Years aSlave script, 12 Years a Slave movie script, 12 Years a Slave film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><metahttp-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX,FOLLOW"><meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><linkhref="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)

 Theweb's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">            <tdwidth="180">
                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical<tralign="center">        #         A        B        C        <ahref="/alphabetical/D">D        E        F        G        H<tralign="center">         I        J        K        L        <ahref="/alphabetical/M">M        N        O        P        Q<tralign="center">         R        S        T        U        <ahref="/alphabetical/V">V        W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 ActionAdventure Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy Film-Noir
 <ahref="/genre/Horror">Horror Musical Mystery
 Romance <ahref="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

TV Transcripts
Futurama
 Seinfeld
 South Park
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 French scripts

MovieSoftware

 Rip from DVD
 <ahref="/software/rip-blu-ray">Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: The ForceAwakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <tdalign="center"><form class="yellbox" action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe"name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username" value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = ''; return;">Message</textarea>

 <buttononClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALL SCRIPTS

	<tdvalign="top">

                             12 YEARS A SLAVE                               Written by                              JohnRidley                              CARD: 1841                               FADE IN:                                   1 INT. TOWNHOUSE/STUDY - DAY 1           -EARLY APRIL, 1841-           We areclose on a PAIR OF BLACK HANDS as they open A           FINELY WRAPPED PACKET OF VIOLIN STRINGS.           WE CUT TO the hands stringing a VIOLIN. It's not a high           end piece, but it is quitenice.           WE CUT TO a wide shot of the study. Sitting in a chair           with violin in hand is SOLOMON NORTHUP; a man in his late           twenties. Everything about Solomon, his mien and manner,           isdistinguished. But he, too, seems a hardy individual.           Someone who has known manual labor in his time.           Solomon begins to lightly play his violin, as if testing           the strings, their tuning. Satisfied,Solomon begins to           play vigorously. As he does, we make a HARD CUT TO:                                    INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - EVENING           We come in on a lively affair. A dinner party isbeing           thrown within the confines of a fairly stately house. In           attendance are EIGHT COUPLES. All are WHITE and all are           FAIRLY YOUNG, in their early twenties. The men and women           aredressed in very fine attire. We should get the sense           that for the most part they are people of means.           The furniture has been set aside in the living room. At           the moment the couples are engaged inthe dancing of a           REEL.           The music they are dancing to is being played by Solomon,           having cut directly from the tune he was previously           playing. He plays with a light determination,and in no           way seems possessed with empty servitude.           Solomon concludes the reel, and the dancers break into           enthusiastic applause, which is followed by personal           thanks andcongratulations from all. It should be clear           that despite their respective races there is much           admiration and appreciation for Solomon's abilities.                                    INT. NORTHUPHOUSE/BEDROOM - MORNING           It is a Saturday morning. Clad in her finest attire is           ANNE; Solomon's wife, a few years younger than he. We           see also the Northup children: MARGARET who iseight, and           ALONZO who is five. They are handsome, and well groomed           kids. Anne straightens up the children. Shefinishes,                                                   (CONTINUED)          2.                         3 CONTINUED: 3           she rises up and stands behind them, almost as if           preparing to pose for aportrait.           They all wait a moment, then Solomon enters the foyer.           He stands and looks admiringly at his family. ADMIRINGLY           stressed. It isn't that he doesn't have love for them,           he does aswell. But in the moment, he truly admires his           greatest accomplishment: a family that is healthy and           well and provided for. He goes to his children, and           hands each a coin, then goes to Anne. Givesher a kiss           on the cheek. The children giggle at the sight.                                    EXT. STREET - DAY           Solomon and his family are out walking along the streets           and groves ofSaratoga.           The streets are well populated this morning with many           people out strolling. Most are WHITE, but there are           BLACKS as well. They are FREED BLACKS who mingle fairly           easily -though not always completely - with the whites.           We see, too, a few BLACK SLAVES who travel with their           WHITE MASTERS. These pairings are largely from the south           and - despite the fact the blacksare slaves - they are           not physically downtrodden, not field hands. They are           well dressed and "leading apparently an easy life" -           comparatively speaking - as they trail their masters.           As theywalk, Solomon and his family arrive to an           intersection well-worn and muddied from horse and cart           traffic. Solomon and his children easily jump across the           muck. Anne stands at the lip of thepuddle, calls for           Solomon to help her across.                          ANNE           Solomon...           Solomon, turning back to his wife with a broad smile           waving herforward:                          SOLOMON           Come, Anne. Jump.           The children, now smiling as well, egg their mother on.                          ALONZO MARGARET           Jump. You can make it.I've done it. You can make           it.                                                   ANNE           I will not ruin my dress. Catch           me!           Solomon moves close, holds out his arms. Yet, there's           still just abit of mischievousness in his eyes. Anne           gives her husband a lightly stern look to whichSolomon           replies.                                                   (CONTINUED)          3.                          SOLOMON           I will catch you, Anne.                          (BEAT)           Iwill.           Again, lightly stern:                          ANNE           You will.           And with that Anne takes the leap. Solomon catches her,           swings her around grandly and sets her down lightlyto           the delighted applause of the children. That done,           Solomon takes Anne's hand and leads her on.           As Solomon and his family make their way, among the           slaves on the street, we see one inparticular; JASPER.           As he trails his MASTER he can't help but note Solomon           and his family as they enter A STORE. His intrigue of           this most handsome and harmonious group shouldbe           obvious.           With his Master occupied, Jasper moves slyly toward the           STORE. Frozen on the spot, Jasper looks on admiringly.           Suddenly a voice barks out-           A VOICE(O.S.)           Jasper! Come on!                                    INT. STORE - LATER           We are inside the store of MR. CEPHAS PARKER; a white man           and a supplier of general goods. Solomon greetshim                          WITH:                          SOLOMON           Mr. Parker.                          PARKER           Mr. Northup. Mrs. Northup.           With money in hand the Northup childrenmove quickly           about the store looking for items to purchase.                                                   CONTINUED:           Anne looks over some silks and fabrics. Parker suggests                          TOSOLOMON:                          PARKER (CONT'D)           A new cravat, Solomon? Pure silk           by way of the French.                          SOLOMON           We are in need of a freshcarry           all for the Mrs's travels.                          PARKER           A year's passed? Off to Sandy           Hill?                          ANNE           I am.           Using a long pole, Mr. Parker fetches downa CARRY ALL           from an upper shelf.                          PARKER           Something to suit your style, but           sturdy enough for the forty miles           round trip.           Handing the Bag to Anne, she isimmediately taken by it.                          ANNE           It's beautiful.                          SOLOMON                          (CAUTIOUSLY)           At whatprice?                          ANNE           We will take it. Children, come           see what your father has just           purchased for me.           As the children run over - chattering excitedly about the           newgift - they RUN PAST JASPER who has quietly entered           the store.           At the checkout counter sits a portrait of WILLIAM HENRY           HARRISON, the edges draped in black crepe. Before the           book sits aLEDGER. Mr. Parker asks of Solomon:                          PARKER           If you would sign our condolence           book. My hope is to find a way to           forward it to the Widow Harrison.           Sad days forthe nation.                          SOLOMON           Yes, certainly. Poor Mrs. Harris           and her children. I hope brighter           timesahead.                                                   (CONTINUED)          4A.                         5 CONTINUED: (2) 5           Jasper looks scared, timid. It's as though he'd like to           engage, but isunsure of as to how. Noting Jasper, Parker                          SAYS:                          PARKER           A moment, sir, and you will be           assisted.                          SOLOMON           If wecould discuss the price...                                                                                (CONTINUED)          5.                         5 CONTINUED: (3)5                          PARKER           Forgive me, Mrs. Northup. A           customer waits. Welcome, sir.           To Jasper, with good nature:                          SOLOMON           Shop well, but mindyour wallet.                          PARKER           Ignore the gentleman's nonsense.           Now, may I interest you in a new           cravat? Pure silk by way of the--           Before Parker can finish, the door opens.It's Jasper's           Master, FITZGERALD. He's stern, clearly displeased.                          FITZGERALD           Jasper!                          (TO PARKER)           My regrets for theintrusion.                          SOLOMON           No intrusion.           Fitzgerald looks to Solomon. It is a cold glare as           though he wasn't speaking to, and has no interest in a           response from a blackman. Looking back to Parker:                          FITZGERALD           Good day, sir.                                                  6 6           INT. NORTHUP HOUSE/DINING ROOM -EVENING           Anne, busy in the kitchen, puts the final touches to the           meal, which is just about to begin. Solomon, in the           meanwhile, sits at the head of the table reading froma           NEWSPAPER. He reads to his children solemn news of the           funeral arrangements for the recently deceased President           Harrison.                          SOLOMON           "Thus has passed awayfrom earth           our late President."           Solomon starts from the top of the article.                          SOLOMON (CONT'D)           "During the morning, from sunrise,           the heavy bells had beenpealing           forth their slow and solemn toll           while the minute guns announced           that soon the grave would receive           its trust. Our city as well as           our entire nation has been called           toweep over the fall of a great           and good man. One who was by the           wishes of a large majority of our                          (MORE) (CONTINUED)          5A.                         6CONTINUED: 6                          SOLOMON (CONT'D)           people raised to fill the highest           place of trust within their gift.           William Henry Harrison."           A long moment of quiet, the


<title>Meet John Doe Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Meet John Doe script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><meta name="keywords" content="Meet John Doescript, Meet John Doe movie script, Meet John Doe film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><metahttp-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX,FOLLOW"><meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><linkhref="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)

 Theweb's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">            <tdwidth="180">
                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical<tralign="center">        #         A        B        C        <ahref="/alphabetical/D">D        E        F        G        H<tralign="center">         I        J        K        L        <ahref="/alphabetical/M">M        N        O        P        Q<tralign="center">         R        S        T        U        <ahref="/alphabetical/V">V        W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 ActionAdventure Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy Film-Noir
 <ahref="/genre/Horror">Horror Musical Mystery
 Romance <ahref="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

TV Transcripts
Futurama
 Seinfeld
 South Park
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 French scripts

MovieSoftware

 Rip from DVD
 <ahref="/software/rip-blu-ray">Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: The ForceAwakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <tdalign="center"><form class="yellbox" action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe"name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username" value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = ''; return;">Message</textarea>

 <buttononClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALL SCRIPTS

	<tdvalign="top">

                                                                       MEET JOHNDOE                                                                  Written by Robert Riskin                                                    based on a story by Richard Connell and RobertPresnell                                                               Ext. Bulletin Office - Sidewalk.                                                              Close-up: Of a time-worn plaque against                          the side of abuilding. It reads:                                                                                THE BULLETIN                                                              "A free press for a freepeople."                                                              While we read this, a pair of hands                          come in holding pneumatic chisel which                          immediately attacks the sign. Asthe                          lettering is being obliterated,                                                               Dissolve to: Close-up: A new plaque                          on which the lettering has beenchanged                          to:                                                               THE NEW BULLETIN                                                              "A streamlined newspaper for astreamlined                          era."                                                               Cut to: Int. Bulletin outer office.                          Full shot: Of a mid-westernnewspaper                          office.                                                               Med. shot: At a door at which a sign-painter                          works. He is painting HENRY CONNELL's                          name onthe door. It opens and a flip                          office boy emerges. The painter has                          to wait until the door closes in order                          to resume hiswork.                                                               Full shot: Of the outer office. The                          activity of the office seems to suddenly                          cease, as all eyes are centered onthe                          office boy.                                                               Med. shotpanning: With the office boywho                          has a small sheet of paper in his hand.                          He walksjauntily to a desk, refers                          to his paper, points his finger to a                          woman, emits a short whistle through                          his teeth, runs a finger across his                          throat and jerkshis thumb toward managing                          editor's office. The woman stares starkly                          at him while her immediate neighbors                          look on with sympathy. The officeboy                          now goes through the same procedure                          with several other people. All watch                          him, terror written in their eyes.                                                                                Med. shot: Toward CONNELL's office door                          where painter works. It opens and three                          people emerge. Twomen and a girl. The                          girl is young and pretty. All three                          look dourful. The painter again has                          to wait for the door to shut before                          resuming his work. Thetwo men exit.                          The girl suddenly stops.                                                               Close shot: Of the girl. Her name is                          ANN MITCHELL. She stands,thinking,                          and then suddenly, impulsively, wheels                          around. Camera pans with her as she                          returns to CONNELL's office door, flings                          it open anddisappears. The painter                          remains poised with his brush, waiting                          for the door to swing back. There is                          a slight flash of resentment inhis                          eyes.                                                               Int. CONNELL's office. Full shot: CONNELL                          is behind his desk on which is a tray                          of sandwiches and aglass of milk, half                          gone. Near him sits POP DWYER, another                          veteran newspaperman. ANN crosses to                          CONNELL'sdesk.                                                               CONNELL                                                              (on phone)                                                              Yeh, D. B. Oh, justcleaning out the                          dead-wood. Okay.                                                               ? 580?                                                              ANN                                                              (supplicatingly)                                                              Look, Mr. Connell . . . Ijust can't                          afford to be without work right now,                          not even for a day. I've got a mother                          and two kid sisters to . ..                                                               Secretary enters. (Her name is Mattie.)                                                                                SECRETARY                                                              More good lucktelegrams.                                                              ANN                                                              Well, you know how it is, I, I've just                          got to keep working.See?                                                               CONNELL                                                              Sorry, sister. I was sent down here                          to clean house. I told yuh I can'tuse                          your column any more. It's lavender                          and old lace![1]                                                               (flicks dictographbutton)                                                              MATTIE                                                              (overdictograph)                                                              Yeah?                                                              CONNELL                                                              Send those otherpeople in.                                                              MATTIE                                                              (overdictograph)                                                              Okay.                                                              ANN                                                              I'll tell you what I'll do. Iget thirty                          dollars a week. I'll take twenty-five,                          twenty if necessary. I'll do anything                          yousay.                                                               CONNELL                                                              It isn't the money. We're after circulation.                          What we need is fireworks.People who                          can hit with sledge hammersstart arguments.                                                                                ANN                                                              Oh, I can do that. I know this town                          inside out. Oh, giveme a chance, please.                                                                                She can get no further, for several                          people enter. They are cowed andfrightened.                          ANN hesitates a moment, then, there                          being nothing for her to do, she starts                          to exit. She is stopped byCONNELL's                          voice.                                                               CONNELL                                                              All right, come in, come in! Come in!                                                                                (to Ann)                                                              Cashier's got yourcheck.                                                              (back to others)                                                              Who are these people? Gibbs, Frowley,                          Cunningham,Jiles                                                               (to Ann at door)                                                              Hey, you, sister!                                                              Annturns.                                                              ? 581 ?                                                              CONNELL                                                              Don't forget toget out your last column                          before you pick up your check!                                                               ANN's eyes flash angrily as she exits.                                                                                Int. Outer Office. Med. shot: ANN storms                          out. The painter again has to wait for                          the door to swing back tohim.                                                               Int. ANN's office. Full shot: ANN enters                          her office and paces around, furious.                          A man in alpaca sleeve-bandsenters.                          His name is JOE.                                                               JOE                                                              You're a couple o' sticks[2] shy in                          yourcolumn, Ann.                                                               ANN                                                              (ignores him, muttering . . .)                                                              Abig, rich slob like D. B. Norton buys                          a paperand forty heads arechopped                          off!                                                               JOE                                                              Did you get it,too?                                                              ANN                                                              Yeah. You, too? Oh, Joe . . . oh, I'm                          sorry darling . . . why don't wetear                          the building down!                                                               JOE                                                              Before you do, Ann, perhaps you'd


<title>L.A. Confidential Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="L.A. Confidential script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><meta name="keywords" content="L.A.Confidential script, L.A. Confidential movie script, L.A. Confidential film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><metahttp-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX,FOLLOW"><meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><linkhref="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)

 Theweb's largest
movie script resource!

           Search IMSDb
<form method="post" action="/search.php">            <tdwidth="180">
                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">                <input type="submit" value="Go!"name="submit">
	</form>

Alphabetical<tralign="center">        #         A        B        C        <ahref="/alphabetical/D">D        E        F        G        H<tralign="center">         I        J        K        L        <ahref="/alphabetical/M">M        N        O        P        Q<tralign="center">         R        S        T        U        <ahref="/alphabetical/V">V        W        X        Y        <ahref="/alphabetical/Z">Z

Genre
 ActionAdventure Animation
 Comedy Crime <ahref="/genre/Drama">Drama
 Family Fantasy Film-Noir
 <ahref="/genre/Horror">Horror Musical Mystery
 Romance <ahref="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi Short
 Thriller War <ahref="/genre/Western">Western

  Sponsor

TV Transcripts
Futurama
 Seinfeld
 South Park
 Stargate SG-1
 Lost
 The 4400

International
 French scripts

MovieSoftware

 Rip from DVD
 <ahref="/software/rip-blu-ray">Rip Blu-Ray

Latest Comments
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10
Star Wars: The ForceAwakens10/10
Batman Begins9/10
Collateral10/10
Jackie Brown8/10

Movie Chat
 <tdalign="center"><form class="yellbox" action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe"name="yellform">  <input type="hidden" name="sub_username" value="imsdb"> <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = '';return;">
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = ''; return;">Message</textarea>

 <buttononClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"></button> <button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="returnclearMessageBox();">Yell !</button>
</form>

      ALL SCRIPTS

	<tdvalign="top">

   <title>"L.A. Confidential", by Brian Helgeland</title><bodybgcolor="#FFFFFF">
                             L.A. CONFIDENTIAL                                    by                              Brian Helgeland                     Based on the novel by JamesEllroy                                                 November 16, 1995                                                 Minor Revisions        FADE IN:        OVER the opening strains of "I LOVE YOU, CALIFORNIA," a        MONTAGE:  amixture of headlines, newsreel footage and        live action.  Economy Booming!  Postwar Optimism!  L.A.:        City of the Future!  But most prominent amongthem:        GANGLAND!  Police photographers document crime scenes.        The meat wagon hauls ex-button men to the morgue.  Where        will it end?        EXT. L.A. SKYLINE -SUNSET        Palm trees in silhouette against a cherry sky.  City        lights twinkle.  Los Angeles.  A place where anything is        possible.  A place where dreams come true.  As the sky        darkens, triple-kleiglights begin to sweep back and        forth.        EXT. MANSION (HANCOCK PARK) - NIGHT        The KLEIG LIGHTS are out front.  Valets hurry to park a        line of elegantcars.                                MAYOR (V.O.)                  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you                  the future of Los Angeles!        INT. HANCOCK PARK MANSION - BALLROOM - NIGHT        TheMAYOR yanks a cloth to reveal a MODEL of L.A. criss-        crossed by an elaborate FREEWAY SYSTEM.  The CROWD oohs.        A COUNCILMAN claps.  A SOCIETY MATRON nods her approval.        PIERCE PATCHETT,50, tuxedoed, watches off to one side.        A behind-the-scenes power broker, Patchett exudes        authority much more so than the Mayor does.                                MAYOR                  The Arroyo Secofreeway is just                  the beginning.  We're planning                  freeways from Downtown to Santa                  Monica, from the South Bay to the                  San Fernando Valley.  Twenty                  minutes towork or play is the                  longest you'll have to travel.        More applause.  One REPORTER asks a little too loudly...                                REPORTER                  How many bodies you thinkMickey                  Cohen'll be able to hide in all                  that cement?        The Mayor wears a plastic smile, ignores it.        INT. THE MOCAMBO - NIGHT        A CLUB PHOTOGRAPHER pops snapshots, butthe real action        is on the floor where MICKEY COHEN does a wicked "Lindy        Hop" with THREE different GIRLS at once.  A fireplug of a        man, he hardly seems a public menace.  Nearby is his        bodyguardJOHNNY STOMPANATO.  Over it all:                                HUDGEONS (V.O.)                  Meyer Harris Cohen, Mickey C to                  his fans.  He's the big moocher,                  local L.A. color to thenth                  degree.  You know Mickey.  He runs                  dope, rackets and prostitution.                  He kills a dozen people a year.                  But who you may not know is                  bodyguard JohnnyStompanato.        His hair in a slick pompadour, Stompanato keeps an eye on        Cohen and comes onto a CIGARETTE GIRL at the same time.                                HUDGEONS (V.O.)                  Johnny'shandsome, ladies, but the                  real attraction is below the belt.                  Second only to Steve Cochran, he's                  sometimes known as 'Oscar' because                  of his AcademyAward-size                  appendage.        Mickey works a sweat on the dance floor.  A bottle of        champagne pops; Stompanato reacts, nearly draws a pistol        from his shoulder holster.  As he laughs athimself...        INT. HUSH-HUSH MAGAZINE OFFICE - DAY        Lurid page one headlines cover the wall where SID        HUDGEONS types.  The essence of sleaze, Sid is the        publisher-photographer-writerof Hush-Hush magazine and        keeper of inside dirt supreme.  As he continues...                                HUDGEONS (V.O.)                  Remember, dear readers, you heard                  it here first,off the record, on                  the Q.T. and very Hush-Hush.        INT. HANCOCK PARK MANSION - BALLROOM - NIGHT        The party continues.  The Mayor has moved off to the side        with thepower brokers.  Patchett is a presence.                                MAYOR                  We're selling an image, gentlemen.                  Beautifulweather.  Affordable                  housing.                         (re:  model)                  Trouble-free transportation.  And                  the best police department in the                  world to keep it allrunning                  smoothly.        EXT. STOREFRONT - NIGHT        A dozen people watch a display windoe TELEVISION as it        rolls the opening of the hit show "Badge of Honor."  Over        familiar THEMEMUSIC, "Sgt. Joe Reno" (actor BRETT CHASE)        walks the streets of Los Angeles.                                CHASE (V.O.)                  My name?  Joe Reno.  The city?                  Los Angeles.  A big town.  Fullof                  all sorts of people.  It's my job                  to help them.  I like what I do.                  I'm a cop.        INT. HANCOCK PARK MANSION - BALLROOM - NIGHT        The Mayorcontinues.                                MAYOR                  But with a second rate Al Capone                  out there, L.A. looks like Chicago                  in the '30s.  Something has to be                  done.        AsPierce Patchett nods sagely.        INT. OLYMPIC AUDITORIUM - NIGHT        Wrestler GORGEOUS GEORGE primps and poses before flatten-        ing an opponent with a drop kick.        INT. MOVIETHEATER - NIGHT        An enthusiastic crowd adjusts their 3-D glasses.        EXT. COHEN MANSION (BEVERLY HILLS) - DAY        In monogrammed silk pajamas, Mickey Cohen answers the        door, hispet BULLDOG Mickey Jr. at his feet.  The police        are waiting.  REPORTERS' flashbulbs pop.                                POLICE OFFICER                  Mr. Cohen, you're underarrest.                                COHEN                  Bullshit.  What's the charge?                                POLICE OFFICER                  Non-payment of federal incometax.                                COHEN                  Bullshit.        EXT. GRAUMAN'S CHINESE - DAY        JOHN WAYNE gets his hand prints in the sidewalk.        EXT. WESTCHESTER BEANFIELD - DAY        MIGRANT WORKERS hurry to finish the harvest.  We PAN        TO CONSTRUCTION WORKERS who wait impatiently with bull-        dozers under a "Spirit of the Future" BANNER.  As the        lastpicker leaves the field, the bulldozers move in,        leveling the bean rows to make way for a housing tract.        EXT. FEDERAL COURTHOUSE - STEPS - DAY        Flashbulbs pop as Mickey Cohen exits andstarts down        the steps.  Accompanied by his LAWYERS, bodyguard        Stompanato and mob lieutenants DEUCE PERKINS and NATE        JANKLOW, Cohen ignores REPORTERS'shouts.                                REPORTER                  How's your bullshit now, Mickey?!        As Cohen gets into a waiting car, the media turn their        attention to District Attorney ELLIS LOEW.  Asingularly        ambitious man, Loew loves the spotlight.                                LOEW                  Today is an auspicious one for the                  city of Los Angeles.  Mickey Cohen                  has just beensentenced to ten                  years in federal prison for                  failure to pay income tax.                  As the District Attorney for Los                  Angeles County, it is my pleasure                  to declare our greatcity                  organized crime free.  It is truly                  the dawning of a new day.        The SONG ENDS and so does the MONTAGE.        INT. PACKARD (ACROSS FROM BULLOCKS WILSHIRE) -NIGHT        December 24th.  Wendell "BUD" WHITE, 30, stares at the        enormous Christmas tree on the deco platform over        Bullocks' entrance.  An LAPD cop, Bud's rep as the        toughest man on theforce has been well earned.  In the        back seat, with cases of Walker Black and Cutty Sark, is        Bud's partner -- DICK STENSLAND.  Older, but also a tough        hump, "Stens" sucks on a pint of OldCrow.        The passenger door opens and Mickey Cohen bodyguard        Johnny Stompanato slides in.  Guinea handsome, Johnny        wears his curls in a tight pompadour.  With his boss        behind bars, he's out ofwork.  Bud just stares at him.                                STOMPANATO                  Officer White.  I heard you got a                  hard-on for wife beaters.                                BUD                  And youfuck people up for a                  living.  That don't make me you.                  Capisce, shitbird?        Stompanato smiles.  Nervous.  Through the window, Bud        watches a Salvation Army Santa palm coinsfrom a kettle.                                STENSLAND                  Bud ain't in the mood for small                  talk, Stompanato.                                STOMPANATO                  Look, Mickey C's doing timeand                  half the other guys who'd hire me                  are dead or left town.  I need                  money.  If your snitch-fund's                  green, I'll get you some fucking-A                  collars.        Impatient,Bud tugs at a finger, CRACKS a KNUCKLE.                                STOMPANATO                  There's this guy.  He's blond and                  fat, about forty.  Likes the                  ponies.  Been pimping his wifeto                  cover his losses.  Knocks her                  around to keep her in line.        Bud's eyes narrow at this last bit of info.  Stompanato        holds up a slip ofpaper.                                STOMPANATO                  I figure the address is worth                  twenty.        Bud digs into his wallet, pulls out twenty bucks,        exchanges it with Stompanato.  Stompanatosmiles smugly,        grabs a bottle of Scotch from the back.                                STOMPANATO                  Yuletide cheer, fellas.        Without warning, Bud grabs Stompanato's tie and yanks,        slamminghis forehead into the dash.                                BUD                  Happy New Year, greaseball.        EXT. 1486 EVERGREEN - NIGHT        A stucco job in a row of vet prefabs.  A neonSanta        sleigh has landed on the roof.  Through the front window,        we see a fat guy browbeating a woman.  Puff-faced, 35-        ish, she backs away as he rages at her.        The Packard pulls up outfront.  Stensland could care        less.                                STENSLAND                  Leave it for later, Bud.  We got                  to pick up the rest of the booze                  and get back to theprecinct.        Bud KILLS the IGNITION, picks up the radio.                                BUD                  Central, this is 4A-31.  Send a                  prowler to 1486 Evergreen.  White                  male in


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose in Bloom, by Louisa May AlcottThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Rose in Bloom       A Sequel to "Eight Cousins"Author: Louisa May AlcottPosting Date: December 31, 2008[EBook #2804]Release Date: September, 2001Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE IN BLOOM ***Produced by David ReedROSE IN BLOOMA Sequel to "Eight Cousins"By LouisaMay AlcottPrefaceAs authors may be supposed to know better than anyone else what theyintended to do when writing a book, I beg leave to say that there isno moral to this story. Rose is not designed for a model girl,and theSequel was simply written in fulfillment of a promise, hoping to affordsome amusement, and perhaps here and there a helpful hint, to otherroses getting ready to bloom.L. M. AlcottSeptember1876Contents     Chapter  1. Coming Home     Chapter  2.  Old Friends with New Faces     Chapter  3.  Miss Campbell     Chapter  4.  Thorns Among the Roses     Chapter  5.  Prince Charming     Chapter  6.  PolishingMac     Chapter  7.  Phebe     Chapter  8.  Breakers Ahead     Chapter  9.  New Year's Calls     Chapter  10.  The Sad and Sober Part     Chapter  11.  Small Temptations     Chapter  12.  At Kitty'sBall     Chapter  13.  Both Sides     Chapter  14.  Aunt Clara's Plan     Chapter  15.  Alas for Charlie!     Chapter  16.  Good Works     Chapter  17.  Among the Haycocks     Chapter  18.  Which WasIt?     Chapter  19.  Behind the Fountain     Chapter  20.  What Mac Did     Chapter  21.  How Phebe Earned Her Welcome     Chapter  22.  Short and SweetChapter 1 COMING HOMEThree young men stood together on awharf one bright October dayawaiting the arrival of an ocean steamer with an impatience which founda vent in lively skirmishes with a small lad, who pervaded the premiseslike a will-o'-the-wisp and afforded muchamusement to the other groupsassembled there."They are the Campbells, waiting for their cousin, who has been abroadseveral years with her uncle, the doctor," whispered one lady to anotheras the handsomest of theyoung men touched his hat to her as he passed,lugging the boy, whom he had just rescued from a little expedition downamong the piles."Which is that?" asked the stranger."Prince Charlie, as he's called a fine fellow,the most promising of theseven, but a little fast, people say," answered the first speaker with ashake of the head."Are the others his brothers?""No, cousins. The elder is Archie, a most exemplary young man. He hasjustgone into business with the merchant uncle and bids fair to be anhonor to his family. The other, with the eyeglasses and no gloves, isMac, the odd one, just out of college.""And the boy?""Oh, he is Jamie, the youngestbrother of Archibald, and the pet of thewhole family. Mercy on us he'll be in if they don't hold on to him!"The ladies' chat came to a sudden end just there, for by the timeJamie had been fished out of a hogshead, thesteamer hove in sight andeverything else was forgotten. As it swung slowly around to enter thedock, a boyish voice shouted, "There she is! I see her and Uncle andPhebe! Hooray for Cousin Rose!" And three smallcheers were given witha will by Jamie as he stood on a post waving his arms like a windmillwhile his brother held onto the tail of his jacket.Yes, there they were Uncle Alec swinging his hat like a boy, with Phebesmilingand nodding on one side and Rose kissing both hands delightedlyon the other as she recognized familiar faces and heard familiar voiceswelcoming her home."Bless her dear heart, she's bonnier than ever! Looks like aMadonnadoesn't she? with that blue cloak round her, and her bright hair flyingin the wind!" said Charlie excitedly as they watched the group upon thedeck with eager eyes."Madonnas don't wear hats like that. Rosehasn't changed much, but Phebehas. Why, she's a regular beauty!" answered Archie, staring with all hismight at the dark-eyed young woman with the brilliant color and glossyblack braids shining in the sun."Dear oldUncle! Doesn't it seem good to have him back?" was all Macsaid, but he was not looking at "dear old uncle" as he made the ferventremark, for he saw only the slender blond girl nearby and stretched outhis hands tomeet hers, forgetful of the green water tumbling betweenthem.During the confusion that reigned for a moment as the steamer settled toher moorings, Rose looked down into the four faces upturned to hers andseemedto read in them something that both pleased and pained her. Itwas only a glance, and her own eyes were full, but through the mist ofhappy tears she received the impression that Archie was about the same,that Machad decidedly improved, and that something was amiss withCharlie. There was no time for observation, however, for in a momentthe shoreward rush began, and before she could grasp her traveling bag,Jamie wasclinging to her like an ecstatic young bear. She was withdifficulty released from his embrace to fall into the gentler onesof the elder cousins, who took advantage of the general excitement towelcome both blooming girlswith affectionate impartiality. Then thewanderers were borne ashore in a triumphal procession, while Jamiedanced rapturous jigs before them even on the gangway.Archie remained to help his uncle get the luggagethrough the CustomHouse, and the others escorted the damsels home. No sooner were theyshut up in a carriage, however, than a new and curious constraint seemedto fall upon the young people, for they realized, allat once, thattheir former playmates were men and women now. Fortunately, Jamiewas quite free from this feeling of restraint and, sitting bodkinwisebetween the ladies, took all sorts of liberties with them andtheirbelongings."Well, my mannikin, what do you think of us?" asked Rose, to break anawkward pause."You've both grown so pretty, I can't decide which I like best. Phebe isthe biggest and brightest-looking, and I wasalways fond of Phebe, butsomehow you are so kind of sweet and precious, I really think I must hugyou again," and the small youth did it tempestuously."If you love me best, I shall not mind a bit about your thinkingPhebethe handsomest, because she is. Isn't she, boys?" asked Rose, with amischievous look at the gentlemen opposite, whose faces expressed arespectful admiration which much amused her."I'm so dazzled by thebrilliancy and beauty that has suddenly burstupon me, I have no words to express my emotions," answered Charlie,gallantly dodging the dangerous question."I can't say yet, for I have not had time to look at anyone. Iwill now,if you don't mind." And, to the great amusement of the rest, Mac gravelyadjusted his eyeglasses and took an observation."Well?" said Phebe, smiling and blushing under his honest stare, yetseeming not toresent it as she did the lordly sort of approval whichmade her answer the glance of Charlie's audacious blue eyes with a flashof her black ones."I think if you were my sister, I should be very proud of you, becauseyourface shows what I admire more than its beauty truth and courage,Phebe," answered Mac with a little bow full of such genuine respect thatsurprise and pleasure brought a sudden dew to quench the fire of thegirl's eyesand soothe the sensitive pride of the girl's heart.Rose clapped her hands just as she used to do when anything delightedher, and beamed at Mac approvingly as she said: "Now that's a criticismworth having, and we aremuch obliged. I was sure you'd admire my Phebewhen you knew her, but I didn't believe you would be wise enough to seeit at once, and you have gone up many pegs in my estimation, I assureyou.""I was always fondof mineralogy you remember, and I've been tappinground a good deal lately, so I've learned to know precious metals when Isee them," Mac said with his shrewd smile."That is the latest hobby, then? Your letters haveamused us immensely,for each one had a new theory or experiment, and the latest wasalways the best. I thought Uncle would have died of laughter over thevegetarian mania it was so funny to imagine you living onbread andmilk, baked apples, and potatoes roasted in your own fire," continuedRose, changing the subject again."This old chap was the laughingstock of his class. They called him DonQuixote, and the way he went atwindmills of all sorts was a sight tosee," put in Charlie, evidently feeling that Mac had been patted on thehead quite as much as was good for him."But in spite of that the Don got through college with all the honors.Oh,wasn't I proud when Aunt Jane wrote to us about it and didn't sherejoice that her boy kept at the head of his class and won the medal!"cried Rose, shaking Mac by both hands in a way that caused Charlie towish "the oldchap" had been left behind with Dr. Alec."Oh, come, that's all Mother's nonsense. I began earlier than the otherfellows and liked it better, so I don't deserve any praise. Prince isright, though. I did make a regular jack ofmyself, but on the wholeI'm not sure that my wild oats weren't better than some I've seen sowed.Anyway, they didn't cost much, and I'm none the worse for them," saidMac placidly."I know what 'wild oats' means. Iheard Uncle Mac say Charlie was sowing'em too fast, and I asked Mama, so she told me. And I know that he wassuspelled or expended, I don't remember which, but it was something bad,and Aunt Clara cried," addedJamie all in one breath, for he possessed afatal gift of making malapropos remarks, which caused him to be a terrorto his family."Do you want to go on the box again?" demanded Prince with a warningfrown."No, Idon't.""Then hold your tongue.""Well, Mac needn't kick me, for I was only..." began the culprit,innocently trying to make a bad matter worse."That will do," interrupted Charlie sternly, and James subsided, acrushedboy, consoling himself with Rose's new watch for the indignitieshe suffered at the hands of the "old fellows" as he vengefully calledhis elders.Mac and Charlie immediately began to talk as hard as their tonguescouldwag, bringing up all sorts of pleasant subjects so successfullythat peals of laughter made passersby look after the merry load withsympathetic smiles.An avalanche of aunts fell upon Rose as soon as she reachedhome, andfor the rest of the day the old house buzzed like a beehive. Eveningfound the whole tribe collected in the drawing rooms, with the exceptionof Aunt Peace, whose place was empty now.Naturally enough, theelders settled into one group after a while, andthe young fellows clustered about the girls like butterflies around twoattractive flowers. Dr. Alec was the central figure in one room and Rosein the other, for the little girl,whom they had all loved and petted,had bloomed into a woman, and two years of absence had wrought a curiouschange in the relative positions of the cousins, especially the threeelder ones, who eyed her with amixture of boyish affection and manlyadmiration that was both new and pleasant.Something sweet yet spirited about her charmed them and piqued theircuriosity, for she was not quite like other girls, and ratherstartledthem now and then by some independent little speech or act which madethem look at one another with a sly smile, as if reminded that Rose was"Uncle's girl."Let us listen, as in duty bound, to what the eldersare saying first,for they are already building castles in air for the boys and girls toinhabit."Dear child how nice it is to see her safely back, so well and happy andlike her sweet little self!" said Aunt Plenty, folding herhands as ifgiving thanks for a great happiness."I shouldn't wonder if you found that you'd brought a firebrand into thefamily, Alec. Two, in fact, for Phebe is a fine girl, and the lads havefound it out already if I'm notmistaken," added Uncle Mac, with a nodtoward the other room.All eyes followed his, and a highly suggestive tableau presented itselfto the paternal and maternal audience in the back parlor.Rose and Phebe, sitting sideby side on the sofa, had evidently assumedat once the places which they were destined to fill by right of youth,sex, and beauty, for Phebe had long since ceased to be the maid andbecome the friend, and Rose meant tohave that fact established at once.Jamie occupied the rug, on which Will and Geordie stood at ease, showingtheir uniforms to the best advantage, for they were now in a greatschool, where military drill was the delightof their souls. Steve posedgracefully in an armchair, with Mac lounging over the back of it, whileArchie leaned on one corner of the low chimneypiece, looking down atPhebe as she listened to his chat with smiling lipsand cheeks almost asrich in color as the carnations in her belt.But Charlie was particularly effective, although he sat upon a musicstool, that most trying position for any man not gifted with grace inthe management ofhis legs. Fortunately Prince was, and had fallen intoan easy attitude, with one arm over the back of the sofa, his handsomehead bent a little, as he monopolized Rose, with a devoted air and avery becoming expressionof contentment on his face.Aunt Clara smiled as if well pleased; Aunt Jessie looked thoughtful;Aunt Jane's keen eyes went from dapper Steve to broad-shouldered Macwith an anxious glance; Mrs. Myra murmuredsomething about her "blessedCaroline"; and Aunt Plenty said warmly, "Bless the dears! Anyone mightbe proud of such a bonny flock of bairns as that.""I am all ready to play chaperon as soon as you please, Alec, forIsuppose the dear girl will come out at once, as she did not before youwent away. My services won't be wanted long, I fancy, for with hermany advantages she will be carried off in her first season or I'mmuchmistaken," said Mrs. Clara, with significant nods and smiles."You must settle all those matters with Rose. I am no longer captain,only first mate now, you know," answered Dr. Alec, adding soberly, halfto himself,half to his brother, "I wonder people are in such haste to'bring out' their daughters, as it's called. To me there is somethingalmost pathetic in the sight of a young girl standing on the thresholdof the world, so innocentand hopeful, so ignorant of all that liesbefore her, and usually so ill prepared to meet the ups and downs oflife. We do our duty better by the boys, but the poor little women areseldom provided with any armor worthhaving, and sooner or later theyare sure to need it, for every one must fight her own battle, and onlythe brave and strong can win.""You can't reproach yourself with neglect of that sort, Alec, for youhave done yourduty faithfully by George's girl, and I envy you thepride and happiness of having such a daughter, for she is that to you,"answered old Mac, unexpectedly betraying the paternal sort of tendernessmen seldom feel fortheir sons."I've tried, Mac, and I am both proud and happy, but with every year myanxiety seems to increase. I've done my best to fit Rose for what maycome, as far as I can foresee it, but now she must stand alone,and allmy care is powerless to keep her heart from aching, her life from beingsaddened by mistakes, or thwarted by the acts of others. I can onlystand ready to share her joy and sorrow and watch her shape herlife.""Why, Alec, what is the child going to do that you need look so solemn?"exclaimed Mrs. Clara, who seemed to have assumed a sort of right to Rosealready."Hark! And let her tell you herself," answered Dr. Alec, asRose's voicewas heard saying very earnestly, "Now, you have all told your plans forthe future, why don't you ask us ours?""Because we know that there is only one thing for a pretty girl to dobreak a dozen or so heartsbefore she finds one to suit, then marry andsettle," answered Charlie, as if no other reply was possible."That may be the case with many, but not with us, for Phebe and Ibelieve that it is as much a right and a duty forwomen to do somethingwith their lives as for men, and we are not going to be satisfied withsuch frivolous parts as you give us," cried Rose with kindling eyes. "Imean what I say, and you cannot laugh me down. Wouldyou be contented tobe told to enjoy yourself for a little while, then marry and do nothingmore till you die?" she added, turning to Archie."Of course not that is only a part of a man's life," he answereddecidedly."A veryprecious and lovely part, but not all," continued Rose. "Neithershould it be for a woman, for we've got minds and souls as well ashearts; ambition and talents as well as beauty and accomplishments;and we want to liveand learn as well as love and be loved. I'm sick ofbeing told that is all a woman is fit for! I won't have anything to dowith love till I prove that I am something besides a housekeeper andbaby-tender!""Heaven preserveus! Here's woman's rights with a vengeance!" criedCharlie, starting up with mock horror, while the others regarded Rosewith mingled surprise and amusement, evidently fancying it all a girlishoutbreak."Ah, you needn'tpretend to be shocked you will be in earnest presently,for this is only the beginning of my strong-mindedness," continued Rose,nothing daunted by the smiles of good-natured incredulity or derision onthe faces of hercousins. "I have made up my mind not to be cheated outof the real things that make one good and happy and, just because I'm arich girl, fold my hands and drift as so many do. I haven't lived withPhebe all these yearsin vain. I know what courage and self-reliance cando for one, and I sometimes wish I hadn't a penny in the world so that Icould go and earn my bread with her, and be as brave and independent asshe will be prettysoon."It was evident that Rose was in earnest now, for as she spoke she turnedto her friend with such respect as well as love in her face that thelook told better than any words how heartily the rich girl appreciatedthevirtues hard experience had given the poor girl, and how eagerly shedesired to earn what all her fortune could not buy for her.Something in the glance exchanged between the friends impressed theyoung men in spiteof their prejudices, and it was in a perfectlyserious tone that Archie said, "I fancy you'll find your hands full,Cousin, if you want work, for I've heard people say that wealth has itstroubles and trials as well as poverty.""Iknow it, and I'm going to try and fill my place well. I've got somecapital little plans all made, and have begun to study my professionalready," answered Rose with an energetic nod."Could I ask what it is to be?" inquiredCharlie in a tone of awe."Guess!" and Rose looked up at him with an expression half-earnest,half-merry."Well, I should say that you were fitted for a beauty and a belle, butas that is evidently not to your taste, I amafraid you are going tostudy medicine and be a doctor. Won't your patients have a heavenly timethough? It will be easy dying with an angel to poison them.""Now, Charlie, that's base of you, when you know how wellwomen havesucceeded in this profession and what a comfort Dr. Mary Kirk was todear Aunt Peace. I did want to study medicine, but Uncle thought itwouldn't do to have so many M.D.'s in one family, since Mac thinksoftrying it. Besides, I seem to have other work put into my hands that Iam better fitted for.""You are fitted for anything that is generous and good, and I'll standby you, no matter what you've chosen," cried Macheartily, for this wasa new style of talk from a girl's lips, and he liked it immensely."Philanthropy is a generous, good, and beautiful profession, and I'vechosen it for mine because I have much to give. I'm only thestewardof the fortune Papa left me, and I think, if I use it wisely for thehappiness of others, it will be more blest than if I keep it all formyself."Very sweetly and simply was this said, but it was curious to seehowdifferently the various hearers received it.Charlie shot a quick look at his mother, who exclaimed, as if in spiteof herself, "Now, Alec, are you going to let that girl squander a finefortune on all sorts of charitablenonsense and wild schemes for theprevention of pauperism and crime?""'They who give to the poor lend to the Lord,' and practicalChristianity is the kind He loves the best," was all Dr. Alec answered,but it silenced theaunts and caused even prudent Uncle Mac to thinkwith sudden satisfaction of certain secret investments he had made whichpaid him no interest but the thanks of the poor.Archie and Mac looked well pleased andpromised their advice andassistance with the enthusiasm of generous young hearts. Steve shookhis head, but said nothing, and the lads on the rug at once proposedfounding a hospital for invalid dogs and horses, whitemice, and woundedheroes."Don't you think that will be a better way for a woman to spend her lifethan in dancing, dressing, and husband-hunting, Charlie?" asked Rose,observing his silence and anxious for hisapproval."Very pretty for a little while, and very effective too, for I don'tknow anything more captivating than a sweet girl in a meek little bonnetgoing on charitable errands and glorifying poor people's houses witha