Spam for the angelic?

by subacati

From: Ngvyen Marze <deleted@deleted>
Date: Tue, 08 Dec 2009 12:23:51 +0800
Subject: As it is, she may hardly be termed as such. But Catholic Sp
To: deleted@deleted

Ed, until mass is again daily said within these consecrated walls, and
finally until San Carlos of Carmelo is again a worthier Carmel, "for the
greater honor and glory of God" and the praises of His Virgin Mother
once more are sung about this smiling valley where the Christian Indian
children gathered the beautiful wild flowers of the blooming meadows to
adorn the hallowed shrines, ere chimed the Angelus at evenings mellow
glow. Chapter IX Reverend Raymond M. Mestres of Monterey Writes
Historical Drama–"Fray Junipero" Beautiful among beautiful historical
dramas is the mission play "Fray Junipero" written by Reverend Raymond
Mestres, pastor of San Carlos Church (Capilla Real de San Carlos) of
Monterey. Many men and women have undertaken to write about mission
times, but we may safely assert that this good priest so unassuming in
what he does, is above all qualified to handle this subject, being first
of all a religious, a native of Barcelona, the Metropolis of the
Province of Catalonia, which can claim Junipero Serra and so many of the
early Spanish missionaries, explorers and settlers, and being too an
artist and scholar in every way acquainted with the history of the
missions, having made it a special study during his twenty-seven years
of residence (as a priest) in four mission towns of California,
twenty-one of which have been spent in that chief of mission towns,
Monterey. Unbiased, careful of detail and true to history, while not
wanting in artistic setting "Fray Junipero" carries the audience in Act
I back to the College of Fernando, when Junipero Serra received his
commission to come to California as Father Pre

———- Forwarded message ———-
From: Sancen <deleted@deleted>
Date: Sun, 06 Dec 2009 12:39:52 +0100
Subject: Othed it off. When the clay dried, the surface was sm
To: deleted@deleted

Put in some powder, a ball of lead or bullet. Then at the hammer he
placed a little cap which gave a flash when struck. This ignited the
powder. When all was in readiness Robinson bade Friday follow him. They
went slowly out into the forest along the stream. Soon Robinson espied a
rabbit sitting under a clump of grass. Robinson raised his gun, took
careful aim, pressed the trigger. There was a flash and loud report and
there lay the rabbit dead. But Friday, too, was lying on the ground. He
had fainted from astonishment and fright. Robinson dropped his gun and
raised the poor fellow up to a sitting position. He quickly recovered.
He ran to get the rabbit. He examined it carefully. Robinson at last
pointed out the hole the bullet had made and the mystery of the way the
rabbit was killed was solved. Robinson had lived alone so long that he
had learned to love every living creature on the island. He never harmed
anything except when he needed food. He had lived so quietly that the
birds and animals did not fear him. They lived near his shelter and
seemed to know him. Robinson was delighted with his new tools a