human body back muscles

In my recent quest to find new, cutting-edge research on cephalopods, Ive come across some neat stuff (check out this post on the perception of polarized light by cuttlefish - its one of my favorite new cephalopod research topics!)  The study Ill review here is outside of my field of relative expertise, but its so neat and so new that I couldnt resist writing about it.  Its good to step out of ones comfort zone every once in a while, right?

An international team of researchers hailing from Norway, Australia, and Germany has published a study on the venom of Antarctic octopods (more accurately, it is being published, though it hasnt hit the presses yet.)  The team investigated the biochemical properties of extracts from the salivary gland of four Antarctica octopus species and wrote up their results in Venom on ice: First insights into Antarctic octopus venoms (2010).

Here is their image of the posterior salivary glands of an octopus, from which the authors collected all of their specimens:
These glands produce a variety of compounds, notably venom and digestive enzymes.  The venom of temperate-water octopuses has been studied in the past.  Never before, however, has venom been studied in an octopus that lives in below-freezing temperatures, conditions under which the enzymes in most venoms work very poorly if at all.  To begin to understand the role of venoms in the lives of Antarctic octopuses, the team collected and tested venom from four octopus species collected off the Antarctic shore: Adelieledone polymorpha, Megaleledone setebos, Pareledone aequipapillae, and Pareledone turqueti.  Here are images of some of their specimens:



Cute, arent they?  Octopods always are!  Anyways, back to the biochemical assays.

First, the authors tested the extracts for alkaline phosphatase (ALP) activity.  ALP is an enzyme that is in spider and snake venom that is thought to help immobilize prey items.  Second, they tested for Acetylcholinesterase (AChE) activity.  AChE breaks down acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter, potentially acting as a toxin by disrupting neuromuscular function.  Third, the extracts were tested for general proteolytic activity using casein.  Fourth, an assay for secreted phospholipase A2 (sPLA2) was performed.  sPLA2 is found in cone snail and snake venome, and contributes to the effects of venoms in a variety of ways.  Finally, the researches assessed whether the venoms showed haemolytic activity, which is a common marker of the general toxic activity of venoms.  Taken together, these results should begin to characterize the putative venom of each octopus species.  After all of this, the researchers reviewed what is known about the morphology of the mouthparts of the octopuses, as well as their feeding habits, and tried to relate these to their biochemical findings.

Whew.

So, after all of that, what did they find?  Here are their results(takes another deep breath):

Venom from all of the species had some ALP activity.  Interestingly, however, when ALP activity was tested at 0 Celsius and at 37 Celsius, venom from 3 species of octopus (A. polymorpha, M. setebos, and P. turqueti) had higher ALP activity at the lower temperature!  This is a significant finding because it suggests some sort of modification of the proteins responsible for this activity to function optimally at a lower temperature.  This lends some weight to the theory that the use of venom has been important enough to the survival of Antarctic octopus species that they have evolved enzymes to work under conditions where most enzymatic toxins would not.  In the other tests, an essentially similar pattern of results were found, except for the AChA activity assay.  Little AChA activity was found in any of the species, although the results of the assay were poor enough (that is, inconsistent) that they were not included in the paper.  Interestingly enough, although all of the species had a few potentially functional toxins in their venom, most of them showed only weak haemolytic activity.  Only one extract (from P. turqueti) showed strong haemolytic activity.

The relation of venom activity to morphology and diet that the authors attempted to point out appears to be weak (or at least difficult to point out given their sample,) as it is mentioned that few clear venom-related adaptations in diet or anatomy were present in these octopus species.  A. polymorpha is noted to have a very large salival gland and a narrow beak, which the authors suggest might be an adaptation associated with the use of venom as a primary means of catching prey (as opposed to having powerful jaws to physically overpower the prey.)  This species feeds mostly on amphipods and polychaete worms, and so its unclear why it would rely on venom to subdue such (relatively) easy going prey instead of retaining a more varied diet.  In any case, though, this is one of those papers that, being exploratory, raises many more questions than it answers - thats the kind I like!

What I find most interesting about this work is that it begs questions about the evolution of octopus venom.  How quickly could the octopus populations move into cold water?  Was this limited by the evolution of venom enzymes, or did that evolution occur after some quicker relocation of the species which left their warm-water-adapted enzymes useless?  Did A. polymorphas ancestors have a specialized diet before they became Antarctic, or is that only a successful feeding strategy in the Antarctic environment?  The world may never know (although I hope we do, someday!)

Thanks for reading!


Undheim, E.A.B., et al. (2010). Venom on Ice: First insights into Antarctic octopus venoms Toxicon

"Our birth is nothing but our death begun, as tapers waste the moment they take fire."--Young.

The arrival of the stork with the new baby is an event of vast family interest, especially if it is the first visit of the bird to the domicile. In America it is not customary to announce a birth in the newspapers, as is often done in England, especially among the nobility. The personal friends of the parents receive the visiting card of both, or of the mother only, to which is attached a small card bearing the babys full name and the date of his arrival. These are enclosed in an envelope, this again in an outer one, and mailed.
It is proper for those thus notified to call at an early date to in¬quire as to the well-being of mother and babe. As it is not customary for the mother to receive any but a very few of her nearest relatives under at least three weeks, callers should not be expected to see her, but are to leave cards. A note of congratulation is often sent instead of calling, and offers to the ingenious and witty an excellent chance for the display of delicate pleasantry. Thus it is entirely proper to ad¬dress the note to the baby, and congratulate him on having chosen such charming parents, and such a lovely home. Flowers are not infrequently sent to the mother, and little gifts--soft booties, little gold pins for sleeve and neck, little crocheted or knitted sacks, or dainty bibs--to the baby.

Christening Ceremony

The baby is usually christened when it is six or eight weeks old. Clergymen prefer this should be done at the church, and generally arrange to perform several baptisms at the same time--¬Childrens Day being a favorite time. Otherwise, the christening usu¬ally takes place after the congregation is dismissed at the conclusion of a service. Only those interested and a few specially invited friends remain for it. There is no objection, however, to having a child christened at home, when the affair is made one of more festivity.
Most young married people prefer to have the clergyman who married them christen their first baby, when practicable.

Sponsors

The babys sponsors are chosen, by the parents agreement, from among their relatives and close friends, almost always those of their own communion. The request is preferred verbally or by personal notes. A boy has a godmother and two godfathers; a girl two godmothers and a godfather. Occasionally this rule is broken and a godmother alone chosen for a girl, and one godfather for a boy. Godparents are supposed to stand in a more intimate relation to their godchildren than to others, and to take a more personal interest in them, especially in case of the parents death. It is a serious relation, involving a certain religious responsibility, and is not to be lightly entered into.
The godparents are expected to make christening gifts to the child on his baptismal day. They are usually in the form of silver cups, porringers, silver spoons, forks, etc.; these should be solid, never plated ware. If the babe is named for one of its godparents, the latter is expected to do something handsome in the way of a christening gift. Sometimes a bank account is opened in the childs name, the sum deposited being left at interest until he becomes of age.

Church Christenings

At a church christening, the babe is dressed in its handsomest robe and cap. Formerly the robes were very long and miracles of lace and embroidery; at present the finest of linen lawn or batiste, with a little real lace at neck and sleeves, and a bit of fine French embroidery, is thought in better taste, even in the case of the very wealthy. And many a blessed baby is given his name in a simple little lawn robe with no embellishment beyond a little tucking¬--done by the mothers own hands, perhaps.
The nurse carries the child into the church. Sponsors and parents group themselves around the font, which is often decorated with white flowers. The godmother has the privilege of holding the babe until it is time to lay him in the clergymans arms, the cap having been removed. The parents make the responses; after the naming the godmother takes the little one again, holding him until the close of the service. She should not wipe away any of the water placed on the childs head. A good baby is expected not to cry during the ceremony, and one advantage of an early christening is that the little fellow is less liable to be alarmed at strange surroundings.
The same forms are observed at a home christening, the hour being usually in the afternoon.
A luncheon to which the clergyman and the christening party, and a few friends if desired, are invited, customarily follows the church ceremony--unless several children of other families are baptized at the same time--and always follows the home christening. It is not unusual to make some recognition of a clergymans services at a church christening, and always is in order at the home rite, though it is not expected as a clergyman counts on his wedding fee.
If church or house is decorated for a christening, white flowers only are employed, in conjunction with palms and ferns to relieve them. White lilies are particularly beautiful. The table is adorned with white flowers; the cakes and bonbons are white. Any desired refreshments may be served, those for afternoon tea being suitable. That old-fashioned beverage known as caudle is never served at any other time. It is dispensed in bouillon cups.

MANNERS AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS FOR OUR GREAT MIDDLE CLASS
AS WELL AS OUR BEST SOCIETY
Correspondence, Cards and Introductions, Dress for Different Occasions, Weddings, Christenings, Funerals, Etc.,
Social Functions, Dinners, Luncheons.
Gifts, "Showers," Calls, and Hundreds of Other Essential Subjects so Vital to Culture and Refinement of Men, Women, School-Girls and Boys at Home and in Public.
By MRS ELIZABETH JOHNSTONE
Excerpt from the book:
MOTHERS  REMEDIES
Over One Thousand Tried and Tested Remedies from Mothers of the United States and Canada.
By DR. T. J. RITTER
PUBLISHED BY G.H. FOOTE  PUB. CO. DETROIT MICH 1921

After the voluntary abdication of Œdipus, his two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, took possession of the crown and reigned over the city of Thebes. But Eteocles, being an ambitious prince, soon seized the reins of government himself, and expelled his brother from the throne.

Polynices now repaired to Argos, where he arrived in the dead of night. Outside the gates of the royal palace he encountered Tydeus, the son of Œneus, king of Calydon. Having accidentally killed a relative in the chase, Tydeus was also a fugitive; but being mistaken by Polynices in the darkness for an enemy, a quarrel ensued, which might have ended fatally, had not king Adrastus, aroused by the clamour, appeared on the scene and parted the combatants.

By the light of the torches borne by his attendants Adrastus observed, to his surprise, that on the shield of Polynices a lion was depicted, and on that of Tydeus a boar. The former bore this insignia in honour of the renowned hero Heracles, the latter in memory of the famous Calydonian boar-hunt. This circumstance reminded the king of an extraordinary oracular prediction concerning his two beautiful daughters, Argia and Deipyle, which was to the effect that he would give them in marriage to a lion and a boar. Hailing with delight what he regarded as an auspicious solution of the mysterious prophecy, he invited the strangers into his palace; and when he heard their history, and had convinced himself that they were of noble birth, he bestowed upon Polynices his beautiful daughter Argia, and upon Tydeus the fair Deipyle, promising at the same time that he would assist both his sons-in-law to regain their rightful patrimony.

The first care of Adrastus was to aid Polynices in regaining possession of his lawful share in the government of Thebes. He accordingly invited the most powerful chiefs in his kingdom to join in the expedition, all of whom readily obeyed the call with the exception of the kings brother-in-law, Amphiaraus, the seer. As he foresaw a disastrous termination to the enterprise, and knew that not one of the heroes, save Adrastus himself, would return alive, he earnestly dissuaded the king from carrying out his project, and declined to take any part in the undertaking. But Adrastus, seconded by Polynices and Tydeus, was obstinately bent on the achievement of his purpose, and Amphiaraus, in order to escape from their importunities, concealed himself in a hiding-place known only to his wife Eriphyle.

Now on the occasion of the marriage of Amphiaraus it had been agreed, that if he ever differed in opinion with the king, his wife should decide the question. As the presence of Amphiaraus was indispensable to the success of the undertaking, and, moreover, as Adrastus would not enter upon it without "the eye of the army," as he called his brother-in-law, Polynices, bent on securing his services, determined to bribe Eriphyle to use her influence with her husband and to decide the question in accordance with his wishes. He bethought himself of the beautiful necklace of Harmonia, wife of Cadmus, which he had brought with him in his flight from Thebes. Without loss of time he presented himself before the wife of Amphiaraus, and held up to her admiring gaze the glittering bauble, promising that if she revealed the hiding-place of her husband and induced him to join the expedition, the necklace should be hers. Eriphyle, unable to withstand the tempting bait, accepted the bribe, and thus Amphiaraus was compelled to join the army. But before leaving his home he extorted a solemn promise from his son Alcmæon that, should he perish on the field of battle, he would avenge his death on his mother, the perfidious Eriphyle.

Seven leaders were now chosen, each at the head of a separate detachment of troops. These were Adrastus the king, his two brothers Hippomedon and Parthenopæus, Capaneus his nephew, Polynices and Tydeus, and Amphiaraus.
When the army was collected they set out for Nemea, which was at this time governed by king Lycurgus. Here the Argives, being short of water, halted on the outskirts of a forest in order to search for a spring, when they saw a majestic and beautiful woman seated on the trunk of a tree, nursing an infant. They concluded from her noble and queenly appearance that she must be a goddess, but were informed by her that she was Hypsipile, queen of the Lemnians, who had been carried away captive by pirates, and sold as a slave to king Lycurgus, and that she was now acting as nurse to his infant son. When the warriors told her that they were in search of water, she laid the child down in the grass, and led them to a secret spring in the forest, with which she alone was acquainted. But on their return they found, to their grief, that the unfortunate babe had been killed during their absence, by a serpent. They slew the reptile, and then collecting the remains of the infant, they buried them with funereal honours and proceeded on their way.

The warlike host now appeared before the walls of Thebes, and each leader placed himself before one of the seven gates of the city in readiness for the attack. Eteocles, in conjunction with Creon, had made due preparations to repel the invaders, and had stationed troops, under the command of trusty leaders, to guard each of the gates. Then, according to the practice of the ancients of consulting soothsayers before entering upon any undertaking, the blind old seer Tiresias was sent for, who, after carefully taking the auguries from the flight of birds, declared that all efforts to defend the city would prove unavailing, unless the youngest descendant of the house of Cadmus would offer himself as a voluntary sacrifice for the good of the state.

When Creon heard the words of the seer his first thought was of his favourite son Menœceus, the youngest scion of the royal house, who was present at the interview. He therefore earnestly implored him to leave the city, and to repair for safety to Delphi. But the gallant youth heroically resolved to sacrifice his life for the benefit of his country, and after taking leave of his old father, mounted the city walls, and plunging a dagger into his heart, perished in the sight of the contending hosts.

Adrastus now gave his troops the word of command to storm the city, and they rushed forward to the attack with great valour. The battle raged long and furiously, and after heavy losses on both sides the Argives were routed and put to flight.

After the lapse of some days they reorganized their forces, and again appeared before the gates of Thebes, when Eteocles, grieved to think that there should be such a terrible loss of life on his account, sent a herald into the opposite camp, with a proposition that the fate of the campaign should be decided by single combat between himself and his brother Polynices. The challenge was readily accepted, and in the duel which took place outside the city walls, in the sight of the rival forces, Eteocles and Polynices were both fatally wounded and expired on the field of battle.

Both sides now claimed the day, and the result was that hostilities recommenced, and soon the battle raged with greater fury than ever. But victory at last declared itself for the Thebans. In their flight the Argives lost all their leaders, Adrastus excepted, who owed his safety to the fleetness of his horse Arion.

By the death of the brothers, Creon became once more king of Thebes, and in order to show his abhorrence of the conduct of Polynices in fighting against his country, he strictly forbade any one to bury either his remains or those of his allies. But the faithful Antigone, who had returned to Thebes on the death of her father, could not endure that the body of her brother should remain unburied. She therefore bravely disregarded the orders of the king, and endeavoured to give sepulture to the remains of Polynices.

When Creon discovered that his commands had been set at defiance, he inhumanly condemned the devoted maiden to be entombed alive in a subterranean vault. But retribution was at hand. His son, Hæmon, who was betrothed to Antigone, having contrived to effect an entrance into the vault, was horrified to find that Antigone had hanged herself by her veil. Feeling that life without her would be intolerable, he threw himself in despair on his own sword, and after solemnly invoking the malediction of the gods on the head of his father, expired beside the dead body of his betrothed.

Hardly had the news of the tragic fate of his son reached the king, before another messenger appeared, bearing the tidings that his wife Eurydice, on hearing of the death of Hæmon, had put an end to her existence, and thus the king found himself in his old age both widowed and childless.

Nor did he succeed in the execution of his vindictive designs; for Adrastus, who, after his flight from Thebes, had taken refuge at Athens, induced Theseus to lead an army against the Thebans, to compel them to restore the dead bodies of the Argive warriors to their friends, in order that they might perform due funereal rites in honour of the slain. This undertaking was successfully accomplished, and the remains of the fallen heroes were interred with due honours.

Text:
Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece and Rome
Author: E.M. Berens
Published: 1880

The Project Gutenberg E-Book
Produced by Alicia Williams, Keith Edkins and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

There was once a poor Prince, who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very small, but still quite large enough to marry upon; and he wished to marry.
It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the Emperors daughter, "Will you have me?" But so he did; for his name was renowned far and wide; and there were a hundred princesses who would have answered, "Yes!" and "Thank you kindly." We shall see what this princess said.

Listen!

It happened that where the Princes father lay buried, there grew a rose tree—a most beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in every five years, and even then bore only one flower, but that was a rose! It smelt so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by him who inhaled its fragrance.

And furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, who could sing in such a manner that it seemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. So the Princess was to have the rose, and the nightingale; and they were accordingly put into large silver caskets, and sent to her.

The Emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the Princess was playing at "Visiting," with the ladies of the court; and when she saw the caskets with the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.

"Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat!" said she; but the rose tree, with its beautiful rose came to view.

"Oh, how prettily it is made!" said all the court ladies.

"It is more than pretty," said the Emperor, "it is charming!"

But the Princess touched it, and was almost ready to cry.

"Fie, papa!" said she. "It is not made at all, it is natural!"

"Let us see what is in the other casket, before we get into a bad humor," said the Emperor. So the nightingale came forth and sang so delightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.

"Superbe! Charmant!" exclaimed the ladies; for they all used to chatter French, each one worse than her neighbor.

"How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessed Empress," said an old knight. "Oh yes! These are the same tones, the same execution."

"Yes! yes!" said the Emperor, and he wept like a child at the remembrance.

"I will still hope that it is not a real bird," said the Princess.

"Yes, it is a real bird," said those who had brought it. "Well then let the bird fly," said the Princess; and she positively refused to see the Prince.

However, he was not to be discouraged; he daubed his face over brown and black; pulled his cap over his ears, and knocked at the door.

"Good day to my lord, the Emperor!" said he. "Can I have employment at the palace?"

"Why, yes," said the Emperor. "I want some one to take care of the pigs, for we have a great many of them."

So the Prince was appointed "Imperial Swineherd." He had a dirty little room close by the pigsty; and there he sat the whole day, and worked. By the evening he had made a pretty little kitchen-pot. Little bells were hung all round it; and when the pot was boiling, these bells tinkled in the most charming manner, and played the old melody,

    "Ach! du lieber Augustin,
    Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"*

    * "Ah! dear Augustine!
    All is gone, gone, gone!"

But what was still more curious, whoever held his finger in the smoke of the kitchen-pot, immediately smelt all the dishes that were cooking on every hearth in the city—this, you see, was something quite different from the rose.

Now the Princess happened to walk that way; and when she heard the tune, she stood quite still, and seemed pleased; for she could play "Lieber Augustine"; it was the only piece she knew; and she played it with one finger.

"Why there is my piece," said the Princess. "That swineherd must certainly have been well educated! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument."

So one of the court-ladies must run in; however, she drew on wooden slippers first.

"What will you take for the kitchen-pot?" said the lady.

"I will have ten kisses from the Princess," said the swineherd.

"Yes, indeed!" said the lady.

"I cannot sell it for less," rejoined the swineherd.

"He is an impudent fellow!" said the Princess, and she walked on; but when she had gone a little way, the bells tinkled so prettily

    "Ach! du lieber Augustin,
    Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"

"Stay," said the Princess. "Ask him if he will have ten kisses from the ladies of my court."

"No, thank you!" said the swineherd. "Ten kisses from the Princess, or I keep the kitchen-pot myself."

"That must not be, either!" said the Princess. "But do you all stand before me that no one may see us."

And the court-ladies placed themselves in front of her, and spread out their dresses—the swineherd got ten kisses, and the Princess—the kitchen-pot.

That was delightful! The pot was boiling the whole evening, and the whole of the following day. They knew perfectly well what was cooking at every fire throughout the city, from the chamberlains to the cobblers; the court-ladies danced and clapped their hands.

"We know who has soup, and who has pancakes for dinner to-day, who has cutlets, and who has eggs. How interesting!"

"Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an Emperors daughter."

The swineherd—that is to say—the Prince, for no one knew that he was other than an ill-favored swineherd, let not a day pass without working at something; he at last constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung round, played all the waltzes and jig tunes, which have ever been heard since the creation of the world.

"Ah, that is superbe!" said the Princess when she passed by. "I have never heard prettier compositions! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument; but mind, he shall have no more kisses!"

"He will have a hundred kisses from the Princess!" said the lady who had been to ask.

"I think he is not in his right senses!" said the Princess, and walked on, but when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. "One must encourage art," said she, "I am the Emperors daughter. Tell him he shall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses from me, and may take the rest from the ladies of the court."

"Oh—but we should not like that at all!" said they. "What are you muttering?" asked the Princess. "If I can kiss him, surely you can. Remember that you owe everything to me." So the ladies were obliged to go to him again.

"A hundred kisses from the Princess," said he, "or else let everyone keep his own!"

"Stand round!" said she; and all the ladies stood round her whilst the kissing was going on.

"What can be the reason for such a crowd close by the pigsty?" said the Emperor, who happened just then to step out on the balcony; he rubbed his eyes, and put on his spectacles. "They are the ladies of the court; I must go down and see what they are about!" So he pulled up his slippers at the heel, for he had trodden them down.

As soon as he had got into the court-yard, he moved very softly, and the ladies were so much engrossed with counting the kisses, that all might go on fairly, that they did not perceive the Emperor. He rose on his tiptoes.

"What is all this?" said he, when he saw what was going on, and he boxed the Princesss ears with his slipper, just as the swineherd was taking the eighty-sixth kiss.

"March out!" said the Emperor, for he was very angry; and both Princess and swineherd were thrust out of the city.

The Princess now stood and wept, the swineherd scolded, and the rain poured down.

"Alas! Unhappy creature that I am!" said the Princess. "If I had but married the handsome young Prince! Ah! how unfortunate I am!"

And the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown color from his face, threw off his dirty clothes, and stepped forth in his princely robes; he looked so noble that the Princess could not help bowing before him.

"I am come to despise thee," said he. "Thou wouldst not have an honorable Prince! Thou couldst not prize the rose and the nightingale, but thou wast ready to kiss the swineherd for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Thou art rightly served."

He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut the door of his palace in her face. Now she might well sing,

    "Ach! du lieber Augustin,
    Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"

Ares, the son of Zeus and Hera, was the god of war, who gloried in strife for its own sake; he loved the tumult and havoc of the battlefield, and delighted in slaughter and extermination; in fact he presents no benevolent aspect which could possibly react favorably upon human life.

Epic poets, in particular, represent the god of battles as a wild ungovernable warrior, who passes through the armies like a whirlwind, hurling to the ground the brave and cowardly alike; destroying chariots and helmets, and triumphing over the terrible desolation which he produces.

In all the myths concerning Ares, his sister Athene ever appears in opposition to him, endeavoring by every means in her power to defeat his bloodthirsty designs. Thus she assists the divine hero Diomedes at the siege of Troy, to overcome Ares in battle, and so well does he profit by her timely aid, that he succeeds in wounding the sanguinary war-god, who makes his exit from the field, roaring like ten thousand bulls.

Ares appears to have been an object of aversion to all the gods of Olympus, Aphrodite alone excepted. As the son of Hera, he had inherited from his mother the strongest feelings of independence and contradiction, and as he took delight in upsetting that peaceful course of state-life which it was preeminently the care of Zeus to establish, he was naturally disliked and even hated by him.

When wounded by Diomedes, as above related, he complains to his father, but receives no sympathy from the otherwise kindly and beneficent ruler of Olympus, who thus angrily addresses him: "Do not trouble me with thy complaints, thou who art of all the gods of Olympus most hateful to me, for thou delightest in nought save war and strife. The very spirit of thy mother lives in thee, and wert thou not my son, long ago wouldst thou have lain deeper down in the bowels of the earth than the son of Uranus."

Ares

Ares, upon one occasion, incurred the anger of Poseidon by slaying his son Halirrhothios, who had insulted Alcippe, the daughter of the war-god. For this deed, Poseidon summoned Ares to appear before the tribunal of the Olympic gods, which was held upon a hill in Athens. Ares was acquitted, and this event is supposed to have given rise to the name Areopagus (or Hill of Ares), which afterwards became so famous as a court of justice. In the Gigantomachia, Ares was defeated by the Aloidæ, the two giant-sons of Poseidon, who put him in chains, and kept him in prison for thirteen months.

Ares is represented as a man of youthful appearance; his tall muscular form combines great strength with wonderful agility. In his right hand he bears a sword or a mighty lance, while on the left arm he carries his round shield (see next page). His demoniacal surroundings are Terror and Fear; Enyo, the goddess of the war-cry; Keidomos, the demon of the noise of battles; and Eris (Contention), his twin-sister and companion, who always precedes his chariot when he rushes to the fight, the latter being evidently a simile of the poets to express the fact that war follows contention.

Eris is represented as a woman of florid complexion, with disheveled hair, and her whole appearance angry and menacing. In one hand she brandishes a poniard and a hissing adder, whilst in the other she carries a burning torch. Her dress is torn and disorderly, and her hair intertwined with venomous snakes. This divinity was never invoked by mortals, except when they desired her assistance for the accomplishment of evil purposes.

Text:
Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece and Rome
Author: E.M. Berens
Published: 1880

The Project Gutenberg EBook
Produced by Alicia Williams, Keith Edkins and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Its been said that to fully appreciate Shakespeares King Lear one should be middle-age or older, as a younger audience isnt capable of grasping the horror of old age. I feel the same about Queen of the Falls by Chris Van Allsburg. To his credit, Allsburg does his best to mitigate the depressing story of Annie Edson Taylor, the first person to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel. He portrays Taylor as the plucky enterprising woman that she was, coming up with the scheme when she was in her early sixties, devising a barrel that would withstand the falls, and bravely entering the barrel not knowing if she would survive, and if she did, in what condition.

But Allsburgh cant hide the underlying circumstances that propelled Taylor to undertake such a perilous adventure. For Taylor wasnt your typical daredevil, eager to risk life and limb for the thrill of it. No, Taylor was desperate.  Left a widow with little money, she faced the prospect of spending her declining years in the poorhouse. With few options open to her, she convinced herself that going over the falls would make her rich. Allsburg describes her quest to conquer Niagara Falls in gripping detail. Truly, the reader feels as if he or she is inside the barrel right along with Taylor.

Amazingly, Taylor survived with only a few minor cuts and bruises. Once recovered, she expected to cash in on her daring deed. Frank Russell, a promoter she hired, took her on tours, the pair riding on trains from town to town with the barrel. Fame and fortune failed to materialize. Again and again, the audience was dismayed to find Taylor, a plump grandmotherly type, the heroic conquerer of the falls. Put bluntly, she didnt fit the part.  After Russell absconded with the barrel, Taylor was able to get it back. She hired a second promoter, but he too stole the barrel, this time for good. Not one to quit, Taylor had another barrel made and for years displayed it in a park near Niagara Falls, selling souvenir postcards and pamphlets about her famous achievement. She did this for years, never earning much money.



Allsburg ends his picture book on an upbeat note, giving Annie Taylor the last words. "...it was the greatest feat ever performed. And I am content when I can say, "I am the one who did it."  

The illustrations by Allsburg, Caldecott winner of The Polar Express, are all done in sepia-tones, helping to set the book firmly in the past. With incredibly detailed realism, they resemble newspaper photos. Yet no camera could capture Taylors terrified expression inside the barrel as it crashes over the falls.

Children reading or listening to this biography will be caught up in the thrilling tale, and probably wont be aware of its sad undertones. For them, old age is far, far away. Adults, though, hearing news reports of cuts to Social Security, might well ponder Taylors fate. I know I do.

Queen of the Falls
by Chris Van Allsburg
Houghton Mifflin, 40 pages
Published: April 2011

This weeks Nonfiction Monday roundup is at Great Kids Books.

When I was a kid the story of The Little Red Hen didnt appeal to me all that much. I mean, why couldnt the chicken just make the bread by herself? Why drag in Pig, Duck and Cat? Then I became a mom. Suddenly the story resonated.

The Little Red Pen takes a fresh look at this well-known nursery tale, substituting a ballpoint pen for the put-upon hen and office supplies for the barnyard animals.  Little Red Pen is faced with a pile of papers to grade, and when she asks for a little help, she finds Stapler, Scissors, Pencil, Eraser, Pushpin, and Highlighter hiding in the desk drawer. Unlike the barnyard animals, the Desktop Brigade has a reason for not helping. They fear wearing themselves out and being tossed into "The Pit of No Return," otherwise known as the trash.

Little Red Pen bravely carries on by herself, marking papers long into the night until, too tired to continue, she rolls off the desk and falls into the pit. When the others learn of her fate, they band together and do their best to rescue their friend. With the help of several more desk mates, Paper Clip Box, Ruler, and Yardstick, as well as the class hamster, Tank, the gang pulls Little Red Pen (and some others who have fallen in during the rescue attempt) out of the trash and back onto the desk. Then they finish up grading and organizing the papers, no longer afraid of hard work.

The illustrations are the best part of this picture book, with the desktop scenes just bursting with action. Each office supply has its own personality. Little Red Pen is brisk and no-nonsense with her horn-rimmed glasses. Pushpin is a sassy Latina named Senorita Chincheta, while  Eraser is constantly forgetting things as his rubber head shrinks. Even each characters typeface is unique. And the books message--that we must work together to survive--isnt hammered home, but conveyed in a humorous, light-hearted way. Children are sure to enjoy this rollicking tale. But why should they have all the fun? Read it yourself; its bound to resonate with anyone whos ever faced a mountain of paperwork.

The Little Red Pen
by Janet Stevens and Susan Stevens Crummel
illustrated by Janet Stevens
Harcourt Childrens Books 56 pages
Published: April 2011

And hooray for Mo Willems! Hes done it again, creating another perfect blend of pictures and text for young readers. More than any other childrens book author alive today, Willems slips most comfortably into Arnold Lobels shoes. Both are masters at taking seemingly slight incidents and turning them into stories that resonate.

This beginning reader/picture book is made up of 6 1/2 stories about surprises. Each one features Amanda, an avid reader, and her pet alligator, who as we learn in story #4 was purchased for seven cents from a sale bucket. In the story the illustrations show Alligator becoming increasingly insecure as he learns the truth about his origins. Amanda tells her beloved stuffed toy the truth because, as Willems explains in parentheses, "(When friends ask you to tell the truth, you tell the truth.)" (I love parentheses!) Alligator summons up the courage to ask the question; "Why did no one want to buy me?" And Amanda gives the perfect answer: "No one wanted to buy you because they knew you were meant to be my best friend."

In the final story Alligator is put out when Amanda brings home another stuffed toy, a panda that her grandfather bought for her at the zoo. Panda is everything Alligator isnt. Brand new and fluffy, she definitely doesnt look like she came from a sale bucket. Left alone together, the two friends find that they are more alike than different.

The illustrations are classic Willems. He manages to convey so much in just a few squiggles and lines. Take a look at the illustration of Alligator and notice how his nostrils and mouth resemble a smiley face.

As a review in BCCB states, "This is a perfect stealth early reader, a story that will begin as a chapter-by-chapter readaloud and then get converted by the audience when experience and determination make it time to fly solo." Amen. Reserve a space on your bookshelf for Mo Willemss latest.

Hooray for Amanda & Her Alligator
by Mo Willems
Balzer + Bray 72 pages
Published: April 2011