D.J. Blackmore – Folly

Folly coverFrom the Back Cover

It is 1822. The colony bells of Newcastle chime for a wedding but Emma Colchester is uneasy. Her cousin is nowhere to be found. A red satin ribon unearths the truth, and the family face their worst fears. Fingers of blame are pointed too close to home and Emma’s future with Tobias threatens to unravel. The walls of The Folly standing by The Hunter River hold the clue, and Emma risks everything in finding out the truth.

 

Amanda’s Review

Since reading D.J. Blackmore’s debut novel, Charter to Redemption, three years ago, I have been looking forward to this second instalment, which continues the story of Tobias and Emma and their search for the truth. Who is really buried out at The Folly? Is it truly Gideon Quinn? Tobias and Emma can’t rest until these questions and more are answered.

As a lover of Australian historical novels, I enjoyed this book thoroughly. It kept me turning the pages until I also had the answers the characters were looking for. Blackmore draws characters that range from good and kind, to selfish and downright evil, but also shows why they behave the way they do. She depicts life in colonial times very well and I could imagine being there in Wallis Plains and Newcastle in the early 1800s.

If you enjoy a good Aussie colonial novel, then I can recommend Folly.

Thanks to the author for a free copy for review.

About the Author

cc126-deirdreD. J. Blackmore was born and raised in the coal mining and wine growing Hunter Valley, New South Wales, Australia. She has milked cows and made cheese. She has reared babies, border collies and kept bees. A short stint with horses saw her break her best arm. Now she steers clear of animals of the equine persuasion. You might see her with a laptop and a head full of ideas. Being a mother to five is her highest achievement, but writing comes a close second. Her and her writing are inseparable as old friends.

 

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Published in: on 13th November, 2017 at 7:23 pm  Comments (3)  
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On This Day …

Michelangelo Merisi, aka Caravaggio: Crucifixion of St. Peter

Today is the day assigned to celebrate the martyrdom of Peter and Paul, great heroes of our Christian faith. While the exact date of Paul’s death is not known, and Peter was crucified in October of the year 64 AD, they are both celebrated as one on 29th June every year — The Holy Feasts of Saints Peter and Paul.

These two men are responsible for bringing the gospel to the gentiles, and I, for one, am truly grateful for the fact. Peter received a word from God via a dream that gentiles were able to be saved, and Paul, after having an encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus, spread the word far and wide in his travels.

Jesus had told Peter that he would use him to build the church, and so He did. Thousands began to follow ‘The Way’ in the decades following Christ’s crucifixion. The fact that they were persecuted and many were martyred, did not stop them from spreading the gospel to everyone they met. Both of these great men died for the cause of Christ, never holding back or retreating.

Men and women still follow in their footsteps today and are martyred for the sake of their faith, mostly in other countries where extreme religions mean follow or die. Have you ever considered what you would do if you were threatened with death unless you denied your faith? Would you stand up for Jesus? It’s a tough one.

Published in: on 29th June, 2012 at 10:36 am  Comments (2)  
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The River of Time Series – Lisa T Bergren

WATERFALL SUMMARY:

While most American teens would kill for an Italian vacation, the Betarrini sisters have spent every summer of their lives there with their archaeologist parents. And they’re not happy to be back. Stuck on yet another hot, dusty dig, they are bored out of their minds…until they place their hands atop handprints in an ancient tomb and find themselves catapulted into the Fourteenth Century. Gabi emerges in the middle of a dream–or nightmare?–with hot Italian knights in a fierce battle. And so begins her quest to return home…while wondering if she wants to at all.

 CASCADE SUMMARY:

Gabi knows she’s left her heart in the fourteenth century and she persuades Lia to help her to return, even though they know doing so will risk their very lives. When they arrive, weeks have passed and all of Siena longs to celebrate the heroines who turned the tide in the battle against Florence—while the Fiorentini will go to great lengths to see them dead. But Marcello patiently awaits, and Gabi must decide if she’s willing to leave her family behind for good in order to give her heart to him forever.

 TORRENT SUMMARY:

Gabi and Lia Betarrini have learned to control their time travel, and they return from medieval Italy to save their father from his tragic death in modern times.   But love calls across the centuries, and the girls are determined to return forever—even though they know the Black Plague is advancing across Europe, claiming the lives of one-third of the population. In the suspenseful conclusion of the River of Time series, every decision is about life … and death.

 

AMANDA’S REVIEW

This series of young adult novels enthralled me, and even moreso my daughter, who has read them through four times each within the past two months. The action keeps you turning pages until the very end.

The thing I loved the most about these books had to do with the first person viewpoint. Because Gabi, the leading lady, was a modern teen, all of her internal dialogue was in that very modern sarcasm-filled way that young people talk these days – even though she outwardly tries to fit in with the medieval life. Phrases like “ya think,” “duh,” and “hot-as-all-get-out” are delightfully interspersed amongst all the medieval goings-on. Simply wonderful.

I recommend this book, not only to young adults, but adults as well – especially if you like a bit of history, medieval warfare, adventure, intrigue, and of course, romance. These books have it all.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa T. Bergren is the author of over thirty books that have sold more than two million copies combined. She’s written fiction of all sorts (romance, historical, contemporary, suspense, YA), nonfiction and children’s books. She divides her time between writing, editing, traveling and co-parenting her three children (16, 13, and 8) with her husband, Tim. The Bergrens reside in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

 http://www.LisaBergren.com (author web site)

http://www.theworldiscalling.com (the Bergrens’ travel web site)

Facebook: “Lisa Tawn Bergren” and “River of Time Series

Twitter: @LisaTBergren

The Life of a School Teacher

In doing research on anything historical for my novels, I often come across very interesting and amusing details about our past. As I read another blog post earlier this week, I remembered this morsel I had sitting in my drawer which I picked up at a historical museum. I have seen it in other museums since, but I always love to read it again. I hope you will find it as fascinating as I do.
 

Rules for teachers 1872

1. Teachers each day will fill lamps, trim wicks and clean chimneys.

2. Each morning teacher will bring a bucket of water and a scuttle of coal for the day’s session.

3. Make your pens carefully. You may whittle nibs to the individual taste of the pupils.

4. Men teachers may take one evening each week for courting purposes, or two evenings a week if they attend church regularly.

5. After ten hours in school, the teachers may spend the remaining time reading the bible or any other good books.

6. Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed.

7. Every teacher should lay aside from each pay a goodly sum of his earnings for his benefit during his declining years so that he will not become a burden on society.

8. Any teacher who smokes, uses liquor in any form, frequents pool or public halls, or gets shaved in a barber shop will give good reason to suspect his worth, intention, integrity and honesty.

9. The teacher who performs his labour faithfully and without fault for five years will be given an increase of twenty-five pence per week in his pay, providing the board of education approves.

It seems a male teacher would have to be a regular church goer to get the best opportunity of finding a wife. I never knew going to a public barber shop could give rise to suspicion! And if you were a woman, you clearly had to choose between a career and marriage. How times have changed, and yet our teachers still have a difficult career.

Published in: on 8th July, 2011 at 6:51 am  Comments (4)  
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A Life on Fire

Here is another piece I wrote for the FaithWriters Challenge. The topic was “The Manuscript” and I received 3rd place in the Advanced Level.

“William! News from London.”  John pulled the door closed behind him and headed straight for the small, dank room where he knew his friend would be found.

There he sat, hunched over a tiny desk, where he squinted by the dim candlelight, his quill scratching away at the paper. Around him were strewn numerous books, to which he constantly referred as he wrote. A small fire in the hearth appeared to be in need of fresh fuel, for it did little to warm the room.

John sighed and shook his head affectionately, though his smile was grim. He moved over to the fire and placed a few pieces of wood onto the dying embers. “You have been named a heretic. They are burning your books.”

“Mmm.”

“William, did you not hear me? You could very soon be in great danger.”

Finally, the man lifted his head and returned John’s gaze. His eyes burned bright with zeal. “I have been in danger since I began this quest.”

“But it grows ever worse.”

“Did I not say that soon the boy who drives the plough will know more of the Scriptures than the clergy? Did I not say it?”

“Aye, you did.” John blew gently on the embers, but the tinder would not catch alight.

“And see, it already comes to pass. The people begin to rise up. For too long the church has kept them bound to false doctrines, enslaved by her tyranny. Now they read the Scriptures in their own tongue, they begin to see the truth. Such freedom…” His speech failed and he shook his head. “I cannot give up now.” William picked up a stack of discarded pages, each scored with the Word of God, written in his own hand, and yet rejected for the errors they contained. He moved to the hearth and let them fall onto the hot coals. The fire quickly ignited.

“But they burn the texts as quickly as you print them.” John stared into the small blaze, yet saw only images of his friend’s work going up in flames on the streets of London.

 “Then I shall print more. We have successfully smuggled thousands of copies of the New Testament into England. And now thousands of people are able to learn what I have learned—that faith in Christ is the only way unto salvation. Is that not worth my very life?”

John sighed again. “It may cost you your life yet.”

William waved ink-stained hands in the air, the flame of fervency reflected in his eyes. “So be it, if God wills it. His Word shall not be stopped. The people have the right to know the truth.” Returning to the desk, he picked up the pile of paper in front of him and held it up. “And this manuscript—the very laws of God, written by Moses—will soon be complete in English. And then we shall print many thousands more and send them abroad. Can you imagine what it means to the common folk, to be able to read the Scriptures for themselves, to know the mind and heart of God? To know He loves them and sent His Son to die so they might live? That they do not have to strive in good works and pay indulgences to be forgiven? That kind of freedom cannot be paid for. Our redemption came through Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. If He willingly gave His life for me, I can do no less for Him.”

John grinned as the translator returned once more to his work, the fire now burning brightly in the hearth. “Say no more, William. I am with you, heart and soul. Just tell me in what way I can be of service to you.”

William looked up again and winked. “Some supper would be very welcome.”

William Tyndale was the first to translate the New Testament and part of the Old Testament directly from the Greek and Hebrew texts. He was burned at the stake as a heretic in 1536, but his work in translation is a major part of the Bible as we know it today.

© 2010 Amanda Deed

Published in: on 24th September, 2010 at 2:40 pm  Comments (2)  
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Interview with Jack & Meg, Part II.

After nibbling on tea cake and cucumber sandwiches and sipping a lovely cup of tea (which I don’t normally drink, but didn’t want to seem impolite) and enjoying trivial conversation, I continued with my interview with the illustrious Jack Fordham and his wife, Meg.

Amanda:  We’ve talked about your family, but how are the extended family?

Both begin to speak at once, but Mr Fordham gives Meg the floor with a generous smile and a flourish of his arm.

Meg:             Brian and Katherine live not too far from here. They have one child – a little girl. (She looks sad momentarily) Their first did not survive, unfortunately. (She brightens again) Brian is still working in the Colonial Secretary’s Office and Katherine still makes clothes in her spare time. She actually sews garments for our children’s’ homes as well. She is very generous like that.

Jack:            I could not have asked for a better sister-in-law. Nor a better brother-in-law, I might add. He was gracious enough to put my past…in the past…and let me change into something better. He would be one of my best friends now.

Amanda:  Wow! I can imagine your appreciation. How are the Sainsburys?

Jack:            Splendid! I have so much to tell. (He shifts to the edge of his seat and leans forward in excitement.) Mary was married last year to an estimable young chap. She travelled back and forth from Parramatta to Sydney during their courtship and often stayed with us. She frequently attended church with us and has now become a believer, along with her beau.

Amanda:  That’s fantastic!

Jack:           Yes, and now Phil and Gwen have become more curious about the faith.

Amanda:  Praise God! I’m sure the change in you has impacted them as well.

Jack:           (Nodding) I believe it has.

Amanda:  What about the other children?

Meg:             PJ is in the midst of his first calf-love. All he can think about is Isabella! (she laughs) William is fast becoming a young man and is still infatuated with the explorers. He even forced his father to take him to meet one in the city. Kitty dreams of babies and a husband one day.

Amanda:  Everything sounds wonderful. Tell me, how are the orphanages going?

Meg:             Exceptionally well! It has been very rewarding.

Jack:           We have seen many of the boys, and now the girls, find their place in society. Some have found employment in the city and others have travelled out to the cattle stations and sheep runs to live and work.

Meg:            We met a lady called Missus Chisholm, a few years ago. She was helping immigrant women find work. Her work was so inspiring, we have supported her vision.

Amanda:  Missus Chisholm? Do you mean Missus Caroline Chisholm?

Jack:           Have you heard of her? She is quite well-known in the colony.

Amanda:  Yes. She’s quite famous in our time. Universities have even been named after her. Her work with the British immigrants was outstanding, particularly with the women.

Meg:             I am not surprised she is famous. I cannot imagine riding a horse out to those stations, escorting women to a domestic situation. She didn’t even have her husband by her side then.  Recently, she went back to England. Her desire is to see the families desiring to emigrate well informed of what they are travelling to. Many have come here and been quite shocked by the experience.

Amanda:  What about you? Have you thought about returning to England?

Jack:           (Glances at Meg with a smile) We are both rather attached to Australia now. At some point, we must by necessity, travel back to England. My father is yet hale and whole, so there is no urgency, although it would be pleasant to visit.

Amanda:  (Hesitantly) How are things between you and your father? Have you cleared the air?

Jack:           (Nods with understanding) I forgave him years ago when I first realised Christ as my Saviour. We have written many letters to one another since. He now understands the truth of what happened in France. He has blessed my marriage to Meg and is eager to see his grand-children. (He looks at Meg and squeezes her hand) Perhaps we should go, my love, before Father grows too old.

Meg:            (Smiling) Perhaps we should.

Jack:           (Looks back at me with a grin) If travel by car is so rapid in your time, I wonder what boats and ships are like.

Amanda:  Well, yes, boats are very fast nowadays. (I cannot help but feel mischievous as I think about my answer) But who wants to go by sea when you can fly?

Published in: on 17th September, 2010 at 12:48 pm  Comments (4)  
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Interview with Jack & Meg, Part I.

I set my time travel machine to 1848 and pulled up in front of a huge Georgian mansion in what is now known as Bondi.

To be ushered into the Fordham’s drawing room by the ever faithful Miller, was an experience in itself. That is, until I saw the grandeur which surrounded me. Such luxurious furnishings and dark oaken furniture, decorative tapestries and velvet curtains—it all said just how much a man of good taste Mr Fordham is.

Unsettled and nervous, I sat gingerly on the chaise lounge and waited, fidgeting with my iPod, until the esteemed couple appeared.

Mr Fordham’s charisma filled the room the moment he entered and Meg’s serene beauty matched it completely. I stood to my feet, at once intimidated by their presence.

They put me to shame with their humility and politeness. Mrs Fordham curtsied and Mr Fordham bowed over my hand, while I stood their blushing to my roots.

 Jack:                Are you well Mrs Deed?

He spoke with kindness. I suppose he saw my heightened colour.

Amanda:       I am very well, thank you. Just all aflutter that I am finally meeting you.

My stuttering must have made me look like a silly school-girl.

Meg:               (With a twinkle in her eye) Never mind Missus Deed, he seems to have that effect on everyone.

Amanda:       (Finally I found my smile) I have heard of his reputation. Do women everywhere still fall for him?

Mr Fordham laughed and Meg joined him. She rolled her eyes.

Meg:               Shhh. I am trying to keep the truth from him. I am afraid it will go to his head.

Jack looked at her affectionately and gently pinched her arm.

Jack:                Shall we sit? I am sure you would be more comfortable.

Meg:               Can we offer you refreshment?

We sat down together and I declined their hospitality, instead busying myself with setting up my iPod to record.

Amanda:       So, how are you both enjoying married life?

Meg:               I could not have made a better choice. I tease him about how the young girls still melt at the sight of him, but he takes no notice of them.

Jack:                I only have eyes for my little rogue here. I still cannot believe she agreed to marry me. I don’t deserve her, you know.

Meg:               Doing it much too brown, I think, my dear!

Jack:                (Sighs dramatically) Very well, she makes my life miserable. (He turns to Meg.) Is that better love?

Meg:               (Laughing) You will not get a serious answer from him, you know.

They are obviously very much in love. Their eyes say it all.

Amanda:       How is young Jonathon?

Meg:               He is four years old now. He’s very handsome, and very like his father, except for the big green eyes. He has a love for horses like his pa, too, isn’t that right dear?

Mr Fordham merely nods. He has strangely become quiet, but still smiles.

Amanda:       Do you have any other children?

Meg:               We have two girls. Winifred is two and Ann is six months. They are so beautiful.

Amanda:       Winifred?

Meg:               We call her Winnie for short.

Amanda:              Ah, as you once were called by the Sainsbury children. What a lovely idea. Mister Fordham you must be so proud.

Jack:      (Nods again) Words cannot express…they are a blessing beyond description.

Meg:     Jack has becomes rather mawkish when you talk about his children. Not an ounce of steel in him. Just like butter.

Amanda:              I see. We would say ‘sooky la-la’, I think.

Jack:      What…?

I cannot help but laugh at his expression. Perhaps I should not have used a modern term, because it diverted his attention.

Jack:      What is that contraption you have, anyway?

Amanda:              This? (I wave the iPod) It’s an iPod.

Jack:      Eye pod? Is that a new type of quizzing glass?

Amanda:              (Laughing) No. Capital I – Pod. It is a recording device. It plays music, too.

Jack:      (Frowns) How can music be in something so tiny? Impossible!

I plug the headphones in and hold them out to his ears.

Amanda:              Here. Listen.

Mr Fordham pulls a disgusted face.

Jack:      That is not music.

Oops! I played a rock track. I quickly found some classical music.

Amanda:              Sorry, Mr Fordham. Try this.

Mr Fordham’s eyes widen.

Jack:      That is astounding. Really quite remarkable.

Meg:     May I hear?

Mr Fordham passes the ear phones to Meg. Her eyes also become round.

M:          How is it so?

Amanda:              Many things have been invented since the 1840s. We call it ‘modern technology’.

Mr Fordham leans forward with interest.

Jack:      What are the horses like?

Amanda:              Well, horses are more used recreationally now, or for racing.

Jack:      (Looks scandalised) No! How do people draw their carriages and travel?

Amanda:              Cars.

Jack:      Cars?

Amanda:              Cars with engines in them which make them drive without the need of horses.

Jack:      Do you mean those steam engines I’ve heard about?

Amanda:              No. They’ve got better engines than that now.

Jack:      I should like to see that.

I fiddle with my iPod again.

Amanda:              I think, in my time, you would drive a Ferrari. This is a picture of one.

Jack:      (Shock and admiration) This is a car?

Amanda:              This is a ‘sweet goer’ as you would say. One of the best you can get.

Jack:      And it needs no horses?

Amanda:              Imagine the power of six hundred horses. That is how powerful it is.

Jack:      (Amazed) Six hundred! How fast does it go?

Amanda:              Up to two hundred and five miles per hour.

Mr Fordham is left speechless by this, but soon rallies.

Jack:      And this is a picture of it, you say? It seems as though I merely look through a window. Are you certain this is not a new style of monocle?

Amanda:              (Shakes head) Modern photography is in colour and very clear.

Jack:      A photograph? That is a photograph inside your I…Pod?

Mr Fordham runs his hands through his hair in disbelief and lets out an awe-filled breath.

Meg:     Jack, Missus Deed did not come here to talk about her time, but to talk about us. You should not distract her.

Jack:      Maybe so, my dear, but I think I would like one of those cars. Is it possible for us to travel back with you?

Amanda:              (I realised I had said too much about the future.) Perhaps I will have some refreshment after all.

to be continued…

Published in: on 10th September, 2010 at 12:18 pm  Comments (6)  
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A Tale of Two Swords

The following is an article I wrote for the FaithWriters weekly challenge. The topic was “The pen is mightier than the sword”.

“Ho there! Good Abbot!” The knight thumped on the monastery door. The night closed in rapidly around him and his breath blew fog-like on the chill air. He had not long to wait before a humble monk opened the door and bowed respectfully to his visitor. “Greetings, friend,” the knight nodded wearily. “I am lately returned from the wars and I seek a night’s respite for me and my men.”

“I bid thee welcome in the name of our Lord, Sir Knight,” the monk allowed the band of foot-sore soldiers to pass.

They were shown where they might refresh themselves while the monk went in search of the abbot just come from Vespers. Soon enough they were seated at table and given a hearty meal to sate their growling stomachs.

“Doest thou have far to travel, Sir?” A monk sat down beside the knight and proceeded to dip bread into his pottage.

“Many leagues yet afore I see my beloved home.”

“And the wars? How didst thou fare?”

The knight set down his tankard and grinned. “Aye, but I have news to tell.”

“Say on then, Sir. I would fain put it to ink.”

“A scribe, are ye?”

“That I am. And there is none better occupation.”

The knight offered a scornful laugh. “How so? Thou see not the world as I, nor the glory of battle.”

The scribe chuckled. “Aye, but I copy the Holy Scriptures. Such knowledge, such wisdom and beauty thou mayest never read.”

“What care I for that, when I see God’s creation before me as I ride? Can words compare with the feel of God’s strength in my arm as I slay the infidel?”

“Aye, but the Scriptures are like a sword themselves, dividing soul and spirit, forging change in the very heart of a man. Words are a powerful weapon, my friend.”

The knight remained doubtful.

“Very well,” the scribe sighed in seeming resignation. “Tell me how many men thou hast killed? Tell me of thy fiercest battle.”

Thus, the knight told his tale to the scribe in colourful detail. He told how without reck or rein he forged into the battle lines and slew fifty men without injury to himself, and then escaped in no less than an artful manner.

The scribe listened carefully and when the story was told, he smiled with a twinkle in his eye. He rose from the board and inclined his head to the knight. “An heroic tale, I admit. I would hear more of thy victories, yet the hour grows late. Come and see me on the morrow, good knight. I shall have something for thee.”

The following morning, as petitioned, the knight sought his monkish friend, who appeared as though he had not slept. “I give thee good morrow, Scribe.” He slapped him on the shoulder.

In spite of his yawning mouth, the monk grinned his greeting. “May God bless thy day, Sir.”

“Well, then,” the impatient warrior said, “what is it thou hast for me?”

The scribe reached inside his robe and pulled out a scroll of parchment. “Read this, my friend.”

With a suspicious eye, the knight opened the scroll and read the contents with a frown. As his eyes scanned the words, they widened, narrowed and widened again, until he finally looked up at the scribe in astonishment. 

“Why, this is the very tale I accounted to thee yester-eve.”

“Aye.” The scribe nodded.

“And yet, thou hast written that I defeated an hundred men single-handed, and made it sound truthful at that.”

“Aye,” the scribe said again and laughed. “And who wouldst doubt what is writ in ink? Now doest thou see why there is none better occupation than a scribe? I can make the impossible seem possible. I can inspire greatness in men. In truth, I can do more with thy sword, through my quill, than thou canst do in living. And the Holy Scripture is even greater than aught I can scratch on a parchment.”

The knight stared at him for a moment and then bellowed in laughter. “I grant thee the victory, my friend. I hear thy charge.” He bowed good-humouredly. “Thy quill is mightier than my sword.”

 For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:12 [NIV]

 © 2010 Amanda Deed

Published in: on 13th August, 2010 at 11:09 am  Comments (4)  
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Medieval Spelling

Last week, in the course of my work as a financial administrator, I stumbled upon a quote from a very old document. By very old, I mean mediveal. It is the Statute of Charitable Uses Act from 1601, also known as the Statute of Elizabeth.

I was not so much taken by the content of this document, although it is interesting to see the things she believed charity to encompass. I was more fascinated with the spelling. It is fairly simple to read, the spelling is not that unlike ours, and yet it is different enough to captivate my imagination. Here is a passage from the document:

An Acte to redresse the Misemployment of Landes Goodes and Stockes of Money heretofore given to Charitable Uses. Whereas Landes Tenementes Rentes Annuities Profittes Hereditamentes, Goodes Chattels Money and Stockes of Money, have bene heretofore given limitted appointed and assigned, as well by the Queenes most excellent Majestie and her moste noble Progenitors, as by sondrie other well disposed persons, some for Releife of aged impotent and poore people, some for Maintenance of sicke and maymed Souldiers and Marriners, Schooles of Learninge, Free Schooles and Schollers in Universities, some for Repaire of Bridges Portes Havens Causwaies Churches Seabankes and Highwaies, some for Educacion and prefermente of Orphans, some for or towardes Reliefe Stocke or Maintenance of Howses of Correccion, some for Mariages of poore Maides, some for Supportacion Ayde and Helpe of younge tradesmen Handicraftesmen and persons decayed, and others for reliefe or redemption of Prisoners or Captives, and for aide or ease of any poore Inhabitantes concerninge paymente of Fifteenes, setting out of Souldiers and other Taxes.

My favourite is ‘Howses of Correccion’. ‘Maymed’ and ‘Schooles of Learninge’, are a close second. Did you also notice how long the sentence is? And it didn’t end there. There was actually a semi-colon where I stopped the quote. I didn’t look far enough down the document to find a full stop.

I woulde love to hear your thoughts about this spellinge, but, juste for fun, why not try to reply with an attempt at this verie olde writing style.

 

Published in: on 4th August, 2010 at 8:28 am  Comments (4)  
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