13 March 2007

Vol I Issue v ~ 13 March 2007



  1. Letter from the Editor
  2. Town Hall Meeting News
  3. Who Will Win L$10,000? Elevator Contest Ends Soon
  4. St. Patrick's Day in New Babbage!
  5. Film Review: The Mysterious Geographic Explorations of Jasper Morello
  6. Notable Personalities
  7. Literary Corner
  8. New Babbage Register
  9. Events & Announcements
  10. Classified Advertisements
  11. Resources
  12. New Babbage and Steampunk FAQ
  13. Contact, Circulation, and other Essential Information for the Reader



The New Babbage Cog has been in business for one month! In that time, we've interviewed some residents of New Babbage, have developed new features, and have attempted to cover the major news in the sim. Our circulation has far exceeded expectations, and we're happy to say that many visitors pick up a copy as they explore New Babbage. One of the more recent developments in New Babbage has led us to reconsider our ad fee policy. The original goal was to give ad space free to all New Babbagers. However, since more and more non-landholding residents move in, we anticipate that more listings will be coming along, requiring more effort to compile. In order to defer some of the costs of running the paper, we've decided to ask L$50 for ad placements by New Babbagers and L$100 for out-of-towners. To place a New Babbager listing, residents will need to activate their Engineer of New Babbage group and then deposit the fee in the cash box at the Cog office (soon to come). We hope that New Babbagers will find this a fair and reasonable request, and that ads will continue to be listed! As always, please feel free to contact Miss Eggberta Echegaray or me with any comments, questions, or concerns.

In your service,

Mrs. Junie Ginsburg



On Saturday, March 10th 2007, a town meeting took place in the town hall building. Over 30 residents and non-residents attended. Taking place over the space of one hour and forty-two minutes, the agenda covered several topics of import. The full meeting minutes are attached, but included below is a convenient list of the discussion points for reference:

  • The imminent arrival of a new canal district sim

  • New Babbage will now have constables

  • Instead of maintaining a texture library, new residents will receive a welcome package

  • The town hall building will be demolished and reconstructed

  • A central telehub will remain, with better placement relative to the town hall

  • Questions / Answers

New Babbage Town Hall Meeting Minutes

Date: Saturday, March 10, 2007

Chair: Mayor Shaunathan Sprocket

Meeting start: 1:00 pm SLT

Meeting end: 2:42 pm SLT

In attendance: DAK Amat, Rachael Breaker, Nux Chaplin, Natacha Chernov, ArthurConan Doyle, Eggberta Echegaray, Loki Eliot, Elysia Everidge, Kaylee Frye, Sara Galbraith, Intolerable Ginsburg, Junie Ginsburg, Nikmi Hax, Ken Irvine, Salazar Jack, Reitsuki Kojima, Maximillian013 Leonard, Ordinal Malaprop, Quine Mondrian, neccro Peccable, Miguel Pinion, Neo Rebus, Shaunathan Sprocket, Devon Streeter, Chance Takashi, Pumpkin Tripsa, Spencer Upshaw, Moss Weyland, claris Yoshikawa

1. The Mayor announced that Babbage Square is on solid financial ground, with our debts to the Lindens and private investors being paid. He said that 6 people are currently on the waiting list for the upcoming canal district sim, which shall have a look much like Venice combined with Victorian England. It will be south of Babbage Square, behind the Old Imperial Steampunk Theatre. He announced that Miss Ordinal Malaprop has agreed to be the engineer for autonomous barge freight traffic construction. In addition to working barges, the canal district will extend our current freight rail, which means we'll be getting our own Crampton 2-0-4 from Paris. Miss Weyland asked if a chart or map of the canal district would be available. The Mayor answered that one should be done by Monday, March 12, and will be posted at the town hall. The Mayor mentioned that Mr. William Withnail's School for Wayward Girls would be located in the canal district. Discussion about the activities that take place in Mr. Withnail's school took place, and there were no direct objections to the School entering New Babbage. The Mayor will announce to Mr. Withnail that he has a green light to move forward with his build in the canal district.

2. The Mayor announced that Mr. Heinrich Albrecht has volunteered to run a New Babbage constabulary, and that the constables will be for role-play purposes only. They will not be sim administrators.

3. Instead of maintaining a texture library, Mayor Sprocket announced that new residents of New Babbage will receive "welcome packages." The packages will contain textures and objects, such as the newly acquired street lamps and man hole covers. Mrs. Junie Ginsburg will be donating her services to the project by branding said objects with the New Babbage name.

4. Mayor Sprocket requested discussion on the current town hall build, and whether residents found it suitable, given its prim count and quality. After some discussion, it was agreed that a new town hall should be constructed. The primary concern of residents was the location of the door relative to the telehub, and that visitors shouldn't teleport into the sim right next to a wall. The new town hall will include the new constabulary.

5. The Mayor opened the floor for discussion of the telehub, namely, whether or not we should have a central hub or use point-to-point teleporting. Positives for keeping a central hub included the maintaining of a sense of community, that visitors would necessarily see more of the sim if entering at a central location. Negatives were primarily that business owners can easily be missed if following a landmark, particularly by new SL users who aren't familiar with beacons. A random telehub point was suggested and rejected. Discussion took place on the benefits of a parcel directory near the telehub, and it was agreed that this would help mitigate the concerns of those objecting to a central hub. Without a formal vote, the consensus was for a stationary telehub at or near the current location, with a parcel directory for visitors. The Mayor mentioned that that directory will have advertising space that will follow the strictest rules.

6. Miss Weyland asked if a sandbox would be built. The Mayor answered that Mr. Salazar Jack and Sir ArthurConan Doyle have acquired property in the North West corner of the sim to build a sandbox with a stock yard theme.

7. Mrs. Junie Ginsburg asked about the rules regarding subletting, such as office or wall space. The Mayor answered that subletting is fine because he can maintain a cap on the economy. He noted also that it is the landholder's responsibility to be sure all tenants abide by New Babbage rules. He also wants to be informed of any subletting that occurs, along with terms.

8. Mr. Intolerable Ginsburg asked about the ETA on the new canal district sim. The Mayor answered that it is being fast-tracked due to interest, that the map would be done by Monday, March 12th, and that reservations might be taken as early as Tuesday, March 13th. Mr. Nux Chaplin asked how the new sim would be zoned. The Mayor answered that it would be residential and commercial.

9. Master Neo Rebus asked if there was a way for homeless children to be considered residents. The Mayor advised Master Loki Eliot to provide a list of those who are officially in the SteamKids group, and that they would be made full residents. He said that they would be considered sub-renters on Master Eliot's property.

10. Mr. Miguel Pinion suggested that the canals should be built sufficiently large to allow submergibles to traverse them. The Mayor answered that the canals will be of a depth suitable for small submersibles. He said also that the next project after the canal sim will be a port and four void sims.

11. The Mayor asked if there was any interest in a combat system since Mr. Fizz is selling the rights to his with the demise of our sister sim, Sigil. After some general discussion, most of which was favorable, Mayor Sprocket tabled the topic until next month.

12. Miss Moss Weyland and Mr. Reitsuki Kojima asked if our sim would be enabled for voice chat. After a great deal of open discussion, Mayor Sprocket put the subject to a vote. The results were 3 for, 13 against, and 2 abstaining. The motion to enable voice support was therefore not carried. Mayor Sprocket decided to cite role-play ing reasons for the lack of voice support in New Babbage if asked by voice-supporters.

-- end --

Compiled by Mrs. Junie Ginsburg.


WHO WILL WIN L$10,000?


As of Saturday, March 10, Mayor Sprocket had received no requests for contest entry judging. Elevator inventors have until Thursday, March 15th 2007 to request judging for their elevator, and the winner will be announced the same day. The contest prize of L$10,000 will go forfeit if no entries are received by the 15th.



This tale, although not Victorian in nature, is relative to the up and coming St.Patrick’s day festivities to be held this Saturday March 17th.

This real life tale, was told to me by my father and two aunts, minus one now, who still swear to this day of its truth. They year is 1941 in Glasgow Scotland. There had been many air attacks on the Clydeside District by the Nazi’s, known as the Clydeside Blitz. Many Glaswegian residents, including my Father’s family, had to be re-located to other areas of the city because their flats had been destroyed. My Father and my two Aunt’s, were made to share one bed in a tiny room in their new over cramped flat. Next to nothing survived the bombing, but some my family’s possessions, did miraculously survive. Among some of these items that survived, was a pendulum clock. This clock was brought over to Glasgow, by my Great Grandfather, Charles Kelly, who came from Glenties, in Donegal County, Ireland.

The pendulum clock was placed on the fireplace mantle in my Father and two Aunt’s shared room. One night, when the moon was at its fullest, the three of them witnessed something magical. After my Grandmother tucked them into bed, their small room would fill up with the moon’s light, and they would rise up out of bed to watch three little leprechauns come out of the Pendulum clock and dance around in the moonlight. They witnessed this many times throughout their childhood, and have told their tale over and over to others, including me. A lot of people think they are just full of the Blarney, while others believe that the three of them were in shock from the events of the blitz, and that they made up the story up to distract themselves from the destruction that they endured. Well into their senior years, the three of them, minus one, still swear by their story. Are they full of Blarney? Did the three of them make a childhood pact, to tell the same story which has never differentiated from one another's?

Do you believe them? I do! Come to “The Willow Tea Room” , on Saturday March 17th, starting at 3pm6pm est/11pm gmt). Drinksome green tea, or a Guinness a nd share a“blarney” story! SL time(

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig!

Eggberta Echegaray




In the universe of cinematic animation, there is the ordinary, the exceptional, and Jasper Morello. Created in a "silohette" style, much of the story is told by black shadow figures enhanced by the textures of found objects and CGI. All of this is baked into an extraordinary vision of a mechanical paradise beset by the tragedy of plague and the heartbreak of failure.

Nominated for an Academy Award, The Mysterious Geographic Explorations of Jasper Morello

was created in association with the Australian Film Commission in 2005, and is the first episode in a series of stories revolving around the main character. Jasper Morello himself is a royal navigator of steam-powered airships, ubiquitous in the steampunk world that the developers of the film have created. In this episode, "Jasper Morello and the Lost Airship," Mr.Morello is still grieving a death caused by an error in his calculations on a voyage past, and is begrudgingly recruited for another mission. Leaving his wife at home in a city sinking into disease, he promises himself that this will be his last excursion away from her.

Along their journey, the crew of the airship *Resolution* encounter a grave storm which knocks them off-course. They commandeer a ghost ship into which they crash during the storm, and steer it back on-course. Mr. Morello's expertise and dead reckoning brings them to their destination: a mysterious island floating high in the air. Here they discover a creature that holds a cure for the plague back home, but returning with it on board becomes a dangerous and maddening proposition.

This animated film, although only a short 20 minutes, is heavy with plot, character, and atmosphere. Highly recommended - not to be missed by anyone involved in steampunk culture!

Junie Ginsburg




Jack Burke

The pugilist, Jack Burke, who has picked up the American gauntlet thrown to him by some of our national and naturalized pugilistic countrymen, is a very popular personage among the sporting fraternity, having figured in numerous prize-fights with more or less success since his debut in the ring, and has acquired a celebrity that is world-wide. Jack Burke is a native of the British Isles, and a true son of John Bull, and has been a resident of many of England's large and small cities, but made the city of London his chief abode, until he went to America, when he located himself at Chicago. He is a skillful and scientific boxer, having been long in training in England and also here in this country, and the sporting fraternity have looked upon him as invincible, although he has met with several unsuccessful encounters having been removed from the ring in a completely knocked-out condition, from which he at one time barely escaped with his life, after a severe and lengthy period of pain and suffering. His successes have been numerous, and the match which was arranged in 1886, to come off between himself and Mr. Dempsey at San Francisco, was considered by his backers one of certain success; and although Dempsey was the general favorite, there were many sportsmen who favored the idea that Burke would win on account of his being the heavier and more systematic boxer than his opponent. The steadfast opinion that Burke would win, however, soon lost ground, but at the conclusion of the fight, the referees being unable to agree, the match was called a draw, and Dempsey received the cheers of the audience, as he observed to be in the better condition of the two.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle



In this issue, The New Babbage Cog presents Chapter 4 of Sir ArthurConan Doyle's "The Sign of The Four."


by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Chapter 4


WE FOLLOWED the Indian down a sordid and common passage, ill-lit and worse furnished, until he came to a door upon the right, which he threw open. A blaze of yellow light streamed out upon us, and in the centre of the glare there stood a small man with a very high head, a bristle of red hair all round the fringe of it, and a bald, shining scalp which shot out from among it like a mountain-peak from fir-trees. He writhed his hands together as he stood, and his features were in a perpetual jerk--now smiling, now scowling, but never for an instant in repose. Nature had given him a pendulous lip, and a too visible line of yellow and irregular teeth, which he strove feebly to conceal by constantly passing his hand over the lower part of his face. In spite of his obtrusive baldness he gave the impression of youth. In point of fact, he had just turned his thirtieth year. "Your servant, Miss Morstan," he kept repeating in a thin, high voice. "Your servant, gentlemen. Pray step into my little sanctum. A small place, miss, but furnished to my own liking. An oasis of art in the howling desert of South London." We were all astonished by the appearance of the apartment into which he invited us. In that sorry house it looked as out of place as a diamond of the first water in a setting of brass. The richest and glossiest of curtains and tapestries draped the walls, looped back here and there to expose some richly mounted painting or Oriental vase. The carpet was of amber and black, so soft and so thick that the foot sank pleasantly into it, as into a bed of moss. Two great tiger-skins thrown athwart it increased the suggestion of Eastern luxury, as did a huge hookah which stood upon a mat in the corner. A lamp in the fashion of a silver dove was hung from an almost invisible golden wire in the centre of the room. As it burned it filled the air with a subtle and aromatic odour. "Mr. Thaddeus Sholto," said the little man, still jerking and smiling. "That is my name. You are Miss Morstan, of course. And these gentlemen" "This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and this Dr. Watson." "A doctor, eh?" cried he, much excited. "Have you your stethoscope? Might I ask you--would you have the kindness? I have grave doubts as to my mitral valve, if you would be so very good. The aortic I may rely upon, but I should value your opinion upon the mitral."

I listened to his heart, as requested, but was unable to find anything amiss, save, indeed, that he was in an ecstasy of fear, for he shivered from head to foot. "It appears to be normal," I said. "You have no cause for uneasiness." "You will excuse my anxiety, Miss Morstan," he remarked airily. "I am a great sufferer, and I have long had suspicions as to that valve. I am delighted to hear that they are unwarranted. Had your father, Miss Morstan, refrained from throwing a strain upon his heart, he might have been alive now." I could have struck the man across the face, so hot was I at this callous and offhand reference to so delicate a matter. Miss Morstan sat down, and her face grew white to the lips. I knew in my heart that he was dead," said she. "I can give you every information," said he; "and, what is more, I can do you justice; and I will, too, whatever Brother Bartholomew may say. I am so glad to have your friends here not only as an escort to you but also as witnesses to what I am about to do and say. The three of us can show a bold front to Brother Bartholomew. But let us have no outsiders--no police or officials. We can settle everything satisfactorily among ourselves without any interference. Nothing would annoy Brother Bartholomew more than any publicity."He sat down upon a low settee and blinked at us inquiringly with his weak, watery blue eyes. "For my part," said Holmes, "whatever you may choose to say will go no further."I nodded to show my agreement.

"That is well! That is well!" said he. "May I offer you a glass of Chianti, Miss Morstan? Or of Tokay? I keep no other wines. Shall I open a flask? No? Well, then, I trust that you have no objection to tobacco-smoke, to the balsamic odour of the Eastern tobacco. I am a little nervous, and I find my hookah an invaluable sedative." He applied a taper to the great bowl, and the smoke bubbled merrily through the rose-water. We sat all three in a semicircle, with our heads advanced and our chins upon our hands, while the strange, jerky little fellow, with his high, shining head, puffed uneasily in the centre. "When I first determined to make this communication to you," said he, "I might have given you my address; but I feared that you might disregard my request and bring unpleasant people with you. I took the liberty, therefore, of making an appointment in such a way that my man Williams might be able to see you first. I have complete confidence in his discretion, and he had orders, if he were dissatisfied, to proceed no further in the matter. You will excuse these precautions, but I am a man of somewhat retiring, and I might even say refined, tastes, and there is nothing more unaesthetic than a policeman. I have a natural shrinking from all forms of rough materialism. I seldom come in contact with the rough crowd. I live, as you see, with some little atmosphere of elegance around me. I may call myself a patron of the arts. It is my weakness. The landscape is a genuine Corot, and though a connoisseur might perhaps throw a doubt upon that Salvator Rosa, there cannot be the least question about the Bouguereau. I am partial to the modern French school."

"You will excuse me, Mr. Sholto," said Miss Morstan, "but I am here at your request to learn something which you desire to tell me. It is very late, and I should desire the interview to be as short as possible." "At the best it must take some time," he answered; "for we shall certainly have to go to Norwood and see Brother Bartholomew. We shall all go and try if we can get the better of Brother Bartholomew. He is very angry with me for taking the course which has seemed right to me. I had quite high words with him last night. You cannot imagine what a terrible fellow he is when he is angry." "If we are to go to Norwood, it would perhaps be as well to start at once," I ventured to remark. He laughed until his ears were quite red. "That would hardly do," he cried. "I don't know what he would say if I brought you in that sudden way. No, I must prepare you by showing you how we all stand to each other. In the first place, I must tell you that there are several points in the story of which I am myself ignorant. I can only lay the facts before you as far as I know them myself.

"My father was, as you may have guessed, Major John Sholto, once of the Indian Army. He retired some eleven years ago and came to live at Pondicherry Lodge in Upper Norwood. He had prospered in India and brought back with him a considerable sum of money, a large collection of valuable curiosities, and a staff of native servants. With these advantages he bought himself a house, and lived in great luxury. My twin-brother Bartholomew and I were the only children. "I very well remember the sensation which was caused by the disappearance of Captain Morstan. We read the details in the papers, and knowing that he had been a friend of our father's we discussed the case freely in his presence. He used to join in our speculations as to what could have happened. Never for an instant did we suspect that he had the whole secret hidden in his own breast, that of all men he alone knew the fate of Arthur Morstan. "We did know, however, that some mystery, some positive danger, overhung our father. He was very fearful of going out alone, and he always employed two prize-fighters to act as porters at Pondicherry Lodge. Williams, who drove you to-night, was one of them. He was once lightweight champion of England. Our father would never tell us what it was he feared, but he had a most marked aversion to men with wooden legs. On one occasion he actually fired his revolver at a wooden-legged man, who proved to be a harmless tradesman canvassing for orders. We had to pay a large sum to hush the matter up. My brother and I used to think this a mere whim of my father's, but events have since led us to change our opinion.

"Early in 1882 my father received a letter from India which was a great shock to him. He nearly fainted at the breakfast-table when he opened it, and from that day he sickened to his death. What was in the letter we could never discover, but I could see as he held it that it was short and written in a scrawling hand. He had suffered for years from an enlarged spleen, but he now became rapidly worse, and towards the end of April we were informed that he was beyond all hope, and that he wished to make a last communication to us. "When we entered his room he was propped up with pillows and breathing heavily. He besought us to lock the door and to come upon either side of the bed. Then grasping our hands he made a remarkable statement to us in a voice which was broken as much by emotion as by pain. I shall try and give it to you in his own very words. "'I have only one thing,' he said, 'which weighs upon my mind at this supreme moment. It is my treatment of poor Morstan's orphan. The cursed greed which has been my besetting sin through life has withheld from her the treasure, half at least of which should have been hers. And yet I have made no use of it myself, so blind and foolish a thing is avarice. The mere feeling of possession has been so dear to me that I could not bear to share it with another. See that chaplet tipped with pearls beside the quinine-bottle. Even that I could not bear to part with, although I had got it out with the design of sending it to her. You, my sons, will give her a fair share of the Agra treasure. But send her nothing--not even the chaplet--until I am gone. After all, men have been as bad as this and have recovered.

"'I will tell you how Morstan died,' he continued. 'He had suffered for years from a weak heart, but he concealed it from every one. I alone knew it. When in India, he and I, through a remarkable chain of circumstances, came into possession of a considerable treasure. I brought it over to England, and on the night of Morstan's arrival he came straight over here to claim his share. He walked over from the station and was admitted by my faithful old Lal Chowdar, who is now dead. Morstan and I had a difference of opinion as to the division of the treasure, and we came to heated words. Morstan had sprung out of his chair in a paroxysm of anger, when he suddenly pressed his hand to his side, his face turned a dusky hue, and he fell backward, cutting his head against the corner of the treasure-chest. When I stooped over him I found, to my horror, that he was dead. "'For a long time I sat half distracted, wondering what I should do. My first impulse was, of course, to call for assistance; but I could not but recognize that there was every chance that I would be accused of his murder. His death at the moment of a quarrel, and the gash in his head, would be black against me. Again, an official inquiry could not be made without bringing out some facts about the treasure, which I was particularly anxious to keep secret. He had told me that no soul upon earth knew where he had gone. There seemed to be no necessity why any soul ever should know. "'I was still pondering over the matter, when, looking up, I saw my servant, Lal Chowdar, in the doorway. He stole in and bolted the door behind him. "Do not fear, sahib," he said; "no one need know that you have killed him. Let us hide him away, and who is the wiser?" "I did not kill him," said I. Lal Chowdar shook his head and smiled. "I heard it all, sahib," said he; "I heard you quarrel, and I heard the blow. But my lips are sealed. All are asleep in the house. Let us put him away together." That was enough to decide me. If my own servant could not believe my innocence, how could I hope to make it good before twelve foolish tradesmen in a jury-box? Lal Chowdar and I disposed of the body that night, and within a few days the London papers were full of the mysterious disappearance of Captain Morstan. You will see from what I say that I can hardly be blamed in the matter. My fault lies in the fact that we concealed not only the body but also the treasure and that I have clung to Morstan's share as well as to my own. I wish you, therefore, to make restitution. Put your ears down to my mouth. The treasure is hidden in-- --'

"At this instant a horrible change came over his expression; his eyes stared wildly, his jaw dropped, and he yelled in a voice which I can never forget, 'Keep him out! For Christ's sake keep him out!' We both stared round at the window behind us upon which his gaze was fixed. A face was looking in at us out of the darkness. We could see the whitening of the nose where it was pressed against the glass. It was a bearded, hairy face, with wild cruel eyes and an expression of concentrated malevolence. My brother and I rushed towards the window, but the man was gone. When we returned to my father his head had dropped and his pulse had ceased to beat. "We searched the garden that night but found no sign of the intruder save that just under the window a single footmark was visible in the flower-bed. But for that one trace, we might have thought that our imaginations had conjured up that wild, fierce face. We soon, however, had another and a more striking proof that there were secret agencies at work all round us. The window of my father's room was found open in the morning, his cupboards and boxes had been rifled, and upon his chest was fixed a torn piece of paper with the words 'The sign of the four' scrawled across it. What the phrase meant or who our secret visitor may have been, we never knew. As far as we can judge, none of my father's property had been actually stolen, though everything had been turned out. My brother and I naturally associated this peculiar incident with the fear which haunted my father during his life, but it is still a complete mystery to us."

The little man stopped to relight his hookah and puffed thoughtfully for a few moments. We had all sat absorbed, listening to his extraordinary narrative. At the short account of her father's death Miss Morstan had turned deadly white, and for a moment I feared that she was about to faint. She rallied, however, on drinking a glass of water which I quietly poured out for her from a Venetian carafe upon the side-table. Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair with an abstracted expression and the lids drawn low over his glittering eyes. As I glanced at him I could not but think how on that very day he had complained bitterly of the commonplaceness of life. Here at least was a problem which would tax his sagacity to the utmost. Mr. Thaddeus Sholto looked from one to the other of us with an obvious pride at the effect which his story had produced and then continued between the puffs of his overgrown pipe. "My brother and I," said he, "were, as you may imagine, much excited as to the treasure which my father had spoken of. For weeks and for months we dug and delved in every part of the garden without discovering its whereabouts. It was maddening to think that the hiding-place was on his very lips at the moment that he died. We could judge the splendour of the missing riches by the chaplet which he had taken out. Over this chaplet my brother Bartholomew and I had some little discussion. The pearls were evidently of great value, and he was averse to part with them, for, between friends, my brother was himself a little inclined to my father's fault. He thought, too, that if we parted with the chaplet it might give rise to gossip and finally bring us into trouble. It was all that I could do to persuade him to let me find out Miss Morstan's address and send her a detached pearl at fixed intervals so that at least she might never feel destitute." "It was a kindly thought," said our companion earnestly; "it was extremely good of you." The little man waved his hand deprecatingly.

"We were your trustees," he said; "that was the view which I took of it, though Brother Bartholomew could not altogether see it in that light. We had plenty of money ourselves. I desired no more. Besides, it would have been such bad taste to have treated a young lady in so scurvy a fashion. 'Le mauvais gout mene au crime.' The French have a very neat way of putting these things. Our difference of opinion on this subject went so far that I thought it best to set up rooms for myself; so I left Pondicherry Lodge, taking the old khitmutgar and Williams with me. Yesterday, however, I learned that an event of extreme importance has occurred. The treasure has been discovered. I instantly communicated with Miss Morstan, and it only remains for us to drive out to Norwood and demand our share. I explained my views last night to Brother Bartholomew, so we shall be expected, if not welcome, visitors." Mr. Thaddeus Sholto ceased and sat twitching on his luxurious settee. We all remained silent, with our thoughts upon the new development which the mysterious business had taken. Holmes was the first to spring to his feet. "You have done well, sir, from first to last," said he. "It is possible that we may be able to make you some small return by throwing some light upon that which is still dark to you. But, as Miss Morstan remarked just now, it is late, and we had best put the matter through without delay." Our new acquaintance very deliberately coiled up the tube of his hookah and produced from behind a curtain a very long befrogged topcoat with astrakhan collar and cuffs. This he buttoned tightly up in spite of the extreme closeness of the night and finished his attire by putting on a rabbit-skin cap with hanging lappets which covered the ears, so that no part of him was visible save his mobile and peaky face. "My health is somewhat fragile," he remarked as he led the way down the passage. "I am compelled to be a valetudinarian." Our cab was awaiting us outside, and our programme was evidently prearranged, for the driver started off at once at a rapid pace. Thaddeus Sholto talked incessantly in a voice which rose high above the rattle of the wheels.

"Bartholomew is a clever fellow," said he. "How do you think he found out where the treasure was? He had come to the conclusion that it was somewhere indoors, so he worked out all the cubic space of the house and made measurements everywhere so that not one inch should be unaccounted for. Among other things, he found that the height of the building was seventy-four feet, but on adding together the heights of all the separate rooms and making every allowance for the space between, which he ascertained by borings, he could not bring the total to more than seventy feet. There were four feet unaccounted for. These could only be at the top of the building. He knocked a hole, therefore, in the lath and plaster ceiling of the highest room, and there, sure enough, he came upon another little garret above it, which had been sealed up and was known to no one. In the centre stood the treasure-chest resting upon two rafters. He lowered it through the hole, and there it lies. He computes the value of the jewels at not less than half a million sterling." At the mention of this gigantic sum we all stared at one another open-eyed. Miss Morstan, could we secure her rights, would change from a needy governess to the richest heiress in England. Surely it was the place of a loyal friend to rejoice at such news, yet I am ashamed to say that selfishness took me by the soul and that my heart turned as heavy as lead within me. I stammered out some few halting words of congratulation and then sat downcast, with my head drooped, deaf to the babble of our new acquaintance. He was clearly a confirmed hypochondriac, and I was dreamily conscious that he was pouring forth interminable trains of symptoms, and imploring information as to the composition and action of innumerable quack nostrums, some of which he bore about in a leather case in his pocket. I trust that he may not remember any of the answers which I gave him that night. Holmes declares that he overheard me caution him against the great danger of taking more than two drops of castor-oil, while I recommended strychnine in large doses as a sedative. However that may be, I was certainly relieved when our cab pulled up with a jerk and the coachman sprang down to open the door. "This, Miss Morstan, is Pondicherry Lodge," said Mr. Thaddeus Sholto as he handed her out.



Oolon is going to be 400 (RL 40) on March the 15th. 4pm to 9pm SL (12am to 5am GMT). Please join Oolon and his assorted friends at Caledon Carntaigh for a eclectic musical rave-up provided by Duchess Garielle Riel and her inexhaustable phonograph. A Victoria Science Fiction theme will be evident and one is asked to dress sympathetically. Please bring along people that you know are nice. Duchy of Carntaigh, Caledon Carntaigh (191, 128, 22) Cocktails will be served beforehand, from 1pm SL (9pm GMT) in the Oolons Etheric Travel Cabinet. Many of his RL friends will be visiting SL for the first time during this time. Please make them welcome :-) Oolons TARDIS, Fantasieland (87, 40, 538) We look forward to seeing you.

Please IM Oolon, Terry Lightfoot, Fuschia Begonia or Emilly Ladybird should you wish to know more.

* * *


INVENTORS! As executive director of the New Babbage Conservatoire, Babbage Square (83, 204, 21),

I am in search of musical instruments that are at once fantastical, musical and functional. Mechanical harps, steam-powered horn sections, elaborate orchestrions with brass pipes and fittings... whatever your fevered coal-driven imagination can devise. Please contact me either in world or by aetheric-mail at quinemondrian@gmail.com to discuss commissions and terms.

SMALL OBSERVATORY TELESCOPE now available at Babbage Square (219, 29, 25) Built by Mr. Intolerable Ginsburg, the I.J. Ginsburg Telescope #1 is inspired by the 1877 meridian telescope of the Paris Observatory. Perfect for large homes, small astronomical observatories, or outdoor use. Custom pose and camera view of the man in the moon. Copy/mod, 58 prims, and very affordable at L$200.

* * *


New Babbager Aethernet Journals:

Miss Eggberta Echegaray:


Master Loki Eliot:


Mr. and Mrs. Intolerable Ginsburg:


Mr. Salazar Jack:


Miss Ordinal Malaprop:


Chance Takashi:




Q. What is New Babbage?

A. New Babbage is a planned group of themed sims designed to promote a steampunk aesthetic.


Q. What is Babbage Square?

A. The first, and to date the only, of the planned New Babbage sims is Babbage Square. New Babbage can be thought of as the "city," while Babbage Square is its first "region."


Q. What is "steampunk?"

A. Steampunk is a genre of speculative fiction, usually science fiction, that explores the question of how past eras, particularly the Victorian period, would have looked if more modern technology had existed usingonly the tools at theirdisposal. Thus the steampunk aesthetic often makes use of wood, brass, iron, and steam-powered engines to construct fantastic machines that never were.

Please see the steampunk Wikipedia entry:



Q. Is New Babbage for role-players?

A. New Babbage is for anyone interested in steampunk ideas. Although many residents dress and role-play the part, all are welcome to participate in the activities here (period attire not required), and are encouraged to explore the technology made available to us in SL New Babbagers are builders, scripters, and texture artists, curious and experimental by nature, come together to invent, create, and commune.




Editor in Chief: Mrs. Junie Ginsburg

Asst Editor: Miss Eggberta Echegaray


Ethics Statement:

All reporters for The New Babbage Cog are obligated to inform potential interviewees when they are gathering data for a report on our behalf, or clearly identify themselves as a TNBC journalist. This is a community paper, not a vehicle for expose; all investigative reporting must be above-the-board. Deception is against the intended spirit of community embraced by this paper and will not be tolerated. If a citizen encounters an aggressive reporter claiming to work on behalf of The New Babbage Cog, they are urged to report same to the Editor.


Visit us:

The New Babbage Cog office is located at #4 Babbage Square, across the street from I.J. Ginsburg Dept. Store (Sanger Park).

-- Drop a notecard:

Notecard communications can be dropped in the postbox outside the Cog office at the address above.

-- IM:

You may contact Mrs. Junie Ginsburg or Miss Eggberta Echegaray by IM with any newspaper business.

-- Aethernet mail:

Messages sent to newbabbage@gmail.com will be fielded or redirected as necessary by Miss Eggberta Echegaray.


The New Babbage Cog is circulated in three ways:

1. new issues are sent automatically to subscribers of the New

Babbage Cog group.

2. Issues are available from a paperboxes at the following locations:

-- Babbage Square telehub

-- Willow Tea Room

-- Undershaw Restoration Society

-- Sanger Park, outside of I.J. Ginsburg Dept. Store

3. A reading copy of the current issue is always available at the

newspaper office at #4 Babbage Square.

Back Issues:

All back issues of The New Babbage Cog will be available free of charge. They can be found in the archive on the first floor of the newspaper office.


Volunteer freelance and column writers are welcome to propose stories. The New Babbage Cog also welcomes news tips, reports, and story ideas from interested parties. Please see our contact information above.


Advertising should be germane to subjects of greatest import to residents of New Babbage. Although our sensibilities are quite modern and liberal, The New Babbage Cog reserves the right to determine an ad's fitness for inclusion based on its pertinence to steampunk, Victoriana, retrotech, industry, anachronism, and other related concepts.

Advertising is L$50 to New Babbage citizens and L$100 for out-of-towners, per listing, per issue. For both residents and non-residents, space is limited to 500 characters per listing. Each ad may include one embedded texture and one landmark. File attachments must be delivered at the time of ad reservation. Please see our contact information above to inquire.


[There are no errors known to be in need of correction at this time. The New Babbage Cog is obliged to anyone who sends notification of a mistake, so that rectifications might be swiftly published.]

Copyright Disclaimer:

The Second Life in world note card publication date, of this issue of The New Babbage Cog, and it's intellectual property, are owned by the contributors to the newspaper.

Copyright 2007 of the Common Era

The New Babbage Cog

~~ Relata Refero ~~