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I welcome your messages here. A few words or many Your critique, if any. Your own U R L Or aught else you'd tell. Pray leave here your sign That you've seen this of mine Please grant this request My most honored guest. Your Most Obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate, Bristol Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc.com> - Wednesday, June 16, 1999 at 15:56:52 Post Scriptum: That's 7 wives 49 sacks 343 cats 2401 mice 16807 lice Not quite as neat as you made it appear. And just remember: Figures never lie, but many lyres figure, good bard. Your Most Obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc.com> USA - Wednesday, June 2, 1999 at 20:17:54 Goodman Griffin, 'Tis certain that you are a still journeyman. Your master will surely beat you for not paying attention to all the details. Well, sir, I was beat in my day and I do allow that the beating helped to get my attention, at worse, and drove the facts deeper into my dense skull, at best. For all that chastisement, you do have the beginnings of the beginnings of the answer. Start by accounting for everyone in the riddle not just the no-accounts. I remain Your Most Obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc.com> USA - Wednesday, June 2, 1999 at 19:36:50 The answer to your riddle is.... seven. As I read it, the riddle instructs "do not count the cats or mice and do not count the sacks or lice". This *counting* implies that the answer should be derived not by looking "up into the skies and look you how your shadow lies," but instead by simple math, or in this case, elimination. We have: 7 wives 7 sacks 7 cats 7 mice 7 lice We "do not count" or eliminate the sacks, cats, mice and lice and are left with the very tidy number: 7. It was therefore, 7 [o'clock], when I "went out." Of course, an alternative answer might be - "Time to find out which state allows one to marry 7 wives, each of which has the carrying capacity of a pack-mule, with the explicit intention of avoiding said province in the forseeable future." Anon, Griffin Faireweather, Journeyman Bard All that is writ be not yet made plain. Griffin Faireweather <dougc@i-media.net> Overland Park, KS USA - Wednesday, June 2, 1999 at 15:33:31 As I was leaving from St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. Every wife had seven sacks and every sack had seven cats. Every cat had seven mice and every mouse had seven lice. Now do not count the cats or mice and do not count the sacks or lice. Look you up into the skies and look you how your shadow lies. Tell me now and do not shout, what was the time when I went out? Please remember that the riddle was labeled "A silly riddle for children." It is modeled on many other children's riddles. They are not necessarily simple riddles but they have answers that make sense to children. For instance: What's black, dangerous, and lives in a tree? A crow with a machine gun. This riddle you are struggling with is probably flawed. I authorize you to ignore the skies and shadow line. It was intended to do what it has done, obsure the answer. I remain Your Most Obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc.com> USA - Friday, May 28, 1999 at 12:13:13 Sir Baržolimieu, It has been a while since I have left a missive here. In sooth, I took a wonderous journey to the town of Lyon in France. Sketches of that adventure have been posted at the link herein. Still, that is not the reason that I have sought to write. Your St. Ives riddle is still plaguing me. Early one morning, just before the sun arose, I looked into the skies and saw no stars... then I looked to see how my shadow fell and realized it fell naught, for there was no sun to give forth a shadow. So I contemplated if this occurence, in some manner, was the line to follow within the riddle. Unfortunately, that would happen twice a day at dusk or dawn... so still I am plagued. 'Till Bristol (after another weekend in Lyons the Memorious Day weekend), Robyn Sotherby Tytles too tame to tell Robyn Sotherby <marci001@uwp.edu> Kenosha, WI USA - Wednesday, May 26, 1999 at 15:48:35 Good Sir Robyn, I must say that I have debated writing a great deal in reply to what I have read behind what you have written some of which may even have been profound or worse. But, in the end, sir, what I have decided to write in reply is this: Very well, sir. I shall look forward to learning your history in dribbles and spurts. Much as, I am told, your drinking companions have come to know you . . . God keep you well, sir, and grant that we shall meet in pleasant company under pleasant circumstances with pleasant outcomes and not die of boredom 'ere then. I remain Your Most Obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc.com> USA - Sunday, May 16, 1999 at 00:05:15 Most Learned Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, 'Tis very well that you do not take to task a trial of tedius tale telling. For a competition implies a victor and a lesser. And, whilst I do not much care for being a lesser, I neither care for sitting alone at the top, like cream in a bucket ruling only the skim. All for one and one for all, and all that one world sentiment... trials between those who would be friends should be few and far between, excepting where entertainment and the passing of idle time reigns supreme. And should any infraction of offence be committed, I sincerely hope, for our land's sake, that it is looked over and attributed to our differences... which, of course, will bring us together into a much nobler land. Myself, I am taking every advantage of your offer to post a note, a missive, I only wish I had the focus to devote to a document, and the experience to write a volume. If this should offend thineself, or any, pray do tell and your friend Robyn shall add another tytle to his list that he is too humbled and embarrassed too state but one of before he goes quietly into the night. As for the most gracious offer of posting my hystory upon this most marbled site... I do hope you trust when I say that I have considered that opportunity. I have enjoyed your own synopsis, good Sir Baržolimieu, I can almost envision what the world must have been like in the two score and quarter that I have missed that you have not. Yet, I fear that I would not know where to begin my own tale. Verily, I have made previous attempts, beginnings, short insights into the pursuits I have propagated. Still, those beginnings are never clear to mine eyes. For where does the beginning begin? I would consider my birth, but I canst give a first-hand account of the event, and, therefore, would not trust what I should say. I also consider our Master Shakespeare. Would his tales be the same if poor Juliet and Romeo continued on with their lives in happiness? Or Hamlet's uncle dared not to dabble with poisonous thoughts? Or the dreaded Shylock was forgiving enough to forego his pound of flesh? My none-too-clear point here is that my tale is still unfinished, thankfully for me, and to the disgust of some. Here is why the beginning is unclear, for I know not where the tale finishes. Before the time of my demise, I truly hope that every day in and of itself is its own tale to tell... as most days since now have been. In which case, the task of scoring my symphonies up to now would only distract from a new day's adventure. Also true, I find that hystories, like riddles and charades, are best exchanged in company and conversation. A worthy effort you embark on, Sir Baržolimieu, to collect the hystories of our fellows. This faire season, I hope to join your endeavour in a different respect. I have gotten a most wonderous tool of time capturing and wish to build a virtual shrine for our beloved faire. Of course, it would have to begin with the front gates, of which you are master. If the concept I have in mind comes to fruition, I am certain you will agree, it will be a treasure to behold in the offseason when the heart's longing takes hold. P'raps we can combine our efforts at that time, with the hystories upon your site and the images upon mine. Ahh... see how the soul of the dreamer envisions grandeur beyond his grasp? Now, before I ramble on even further... you see, my tongue is wont to get me into oft troubleous circumstances. In fact, I carry no steel, I would be at a loss to defend myself properly with the object. Yet, the guards at the gate have regularly tried to peace-tie my silver tongue to prevent damage instead... another tangent, I beg forgiveness. As I was saying, it is time for me to ramble unto sweet slumber, which reminds me of all the image of mineself anyone needs... Regrettably stol... *ahem*... borrowed from a traditional Irish medley... "Last night in sweet slumber I dreamed I did see, my own precious jewel sat smiling by me. And when I awakened I found it not so. My eyes like some fountain the tears overflow." Nay, nay, do not weep for Robyn Sotherby, Tytles too tenacious to tell Instead, let his smiles be the only thing contageous about him Robyn Sotherby <marci001@uwp.edu> Kenosha, WI USA - Friday, May 14, 1999 at 01:26:47 Sir Barpolimieu, Whether it be accident, or concious thought, thou art a Gentle well reared. I shall be out and about three days hence, as I am returning from Paris, perhaps we shall meet in the fair town of Bristol while I am tarry on the road. Tis my fortune that I count, for with in two score and five days I shall once again travel to Bristol on HRM Jame's bidding. I now bid thee adieu, and Cheers. May God keep you will good Sir. Sir VE MacGraanloch Sir VE MacGraanloch <eabuel@surfree.com> Kalamazoo, MI USA - Thursday, May 13, 1999 at 21:42:01 Good Sir Robyn, I have no intention of entering upon a tedium contest, though there might be some out there who would maintain that I have already conquered the best (worst) the world has to offer. If you truly wish to deliver us the story of your life, I, sir, will be happy to hear it and post it the section I have set aside for just such tellings. It is e'en there that I am myself involved in testing which comes first: the end of my story or the end of the millenium. God g'you good den, sir. Your Most Obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc.com> USA - Thursday, May 13, 1999 at 20:22:34 Well then, pull up a chair, I have a long... long... story to tell. Back some years ago, a most wonderful woman gave birth to a most remarkable chap of a boy, and cute as the bells on a jester's hat tips. I fear I never knew her... Ah, nevermind me, I would not torture anyone with my tedious tale (at least until after a few more pints wonderfully hard cider). Anon, Robyn Sotherby Tytles taller than my reach Robyn Sotherby <marci001@uwp.edu> Kenosha, WI USA - Thursday, May 13, 1999 at 16:48:59 Gud Cyr Robyn, I pray you do post here what you may choose. Riddles are always most welcome. I shall certainly post new ones from time to time. We shall see what develops. I remain Your Most obt., Sir Baržolimieu Roderickson of Barrow House, Knight Bachelor Master of the Gate. Barton Rolsky <brolsky@starnetinc,com> USA - Thursday, May 13, 1999 at 16:17:55 |
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