During my graduate studies, I became interested in what critics were calling the “New French Extremity,” a strand of auteur filmmaking (and critical scholarship) highlighting a fascinating intersection in French filmmaking: aesthetic traditions of form and content that characterized mid-to-late twentieth-century European art cinema, and elements of the (primarily American and Italian) exploitation genre films that had, for many years at that time, figured centrally in my recreational film viewing and participation in cult cinema fan culture. As I began to investigate the existing scholarship surrounding the New French Extremity (or NFE), I was impressed to find most of it had successfully transcended what is commonly known as the “media effects model” of cinematic violence and “deviant” sexuality in film. There was a definite sense in much of this NFE scholarship that ideas about causal or even correlative relationships between violence in (and outside of) films were outdated, lacking empirical validity, and obstructive to the kinds of deeper critical analysis these texts invite though their innovative styles and dynamic presentation. At the same time, the divided reactions and sensational controversies that linked these films as much as any aesthetic commonality were part of what drew me toward them as objects of cultural study. I saw in the films of the New French Extremity a unique critical opportunity. I spent a portion of my prior studies in scholarly defense of the merits and cultural significance of contemporary horror films. Despite serious engagement from certain prestigious scholars and critics (Robin Wood, Alan Jones, Mark Kermode), the popular horror film has been a favorite target for derision not only in academic circles, but in popular discourse more broadly (with a swift dismissal usually reserved for pornography).

Fat Girl, Irréversible, Trouble Every Day, Twentynine Palms; these films planted a theoretical seed. These were cinematic artworks that possessed the impact of horror films—not just in psychological (and physiological) impact on the spectator—but in their potential cultural impact as well. The visceral affective quality of these films drew the sort of high-profile controversies that so often act as flashpoints for larger cultural debates. The films were shocking and abrasive—but defensible as serious films, by serious filmmakers clearly pursuing more than box office (or as is more commonly the case with horror, straight-to-video distribution) revenue.

The very notion of an ‘Online Gothic’ may come across as a contradiction in terms. After all, the literary tradition of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, generally seen to have birthed the mode and best represented by Horace Walpole, Ann Radcliffe, Matthew Lewis and Charles Maturin, was primarily concerned with looking back at a fantasised version of foregone times. The gothic is associated with the return of the past, with the pervasiveness of hauntings, with archaic and ruinous buildings and barbaric codes of conduct that contrast starkly with the modern times of the reader. Online Gothic is thus a development, rather than a direct aesthetic descendant, of an artistic lineage that has operated as a cultural response to specific social anxieties – a movement mirrored by the simultaneous broadening of the academic understanding of the basic parameters of the gothic (Chaplin 2011, 4).1 In this light, Online Gothic does not look to the medieval, Victorian or Edwardian eras to stage tensions between new and ossified moral attitudes, but rather channels contemporary fears propounded by tremendous and exponential technological advances whose truly transformative nature has been hard to assimilate due to the speed with which they have become enmeshed in the fabric of human life and the circulation of capital. As I use the term in this chapter, Online Gothic can be considered part of a wider category Linnie Blake and I have called ‘digital horror’: the ‘type of horror that actively purports to explore the dark side of contemporary life in a digital age governed by informational flows, rhizomatic public networks, virtual simulation and visual hyper-stimulation’ (2016, 3).

Online Gothic, as its name suggests, is concerned with the nightmares arising from the use of the internet, a global infrastructure of computers that provides information and allows companies, businesses and governments to communicate with one another. These connections are themselves facilitated by the World Wide Web, the services or information accessed via the internet which became publicly available in 1991 (Gillies and Cailliau 2000, 221). Even though access to broadband is largely a basic necessity in the twenty-first century, it is wrong to assume that online experiences are democratic or homogenic.

I know not if the courteous reader will accord in opinion with me, that the proposal to elect me into the legislature was the greatest event in my life, but such I have always considered it, because the refusal was the result of a great mental controversy, and from that time I steadily began to knit up all my manifold concerns into the smallest possible compass. In doing this, I neither proposed idleset for myself, nor the remission of my wonted activity; on the contrary, my main object was to be free to give my mind and experience to the furtherance of my sons’ fortunes, chiefly of Robert’s; not for partiality, though he was the first-born, and the son of my first love, but because my family by my second wife were amply provided for by Mr. Hoskins, and because I did not intend, having assigned my interest in the salt-works to Robin on his marriage with Volumnia Cockspur, that he should partake in the division I proposed to make of my other property; moreover, though it may be regarded as a thing with which I could not properly be said to have any thing to do, he received with his wife a handsome fortune, well on to six thousand pounds sterling, which, however, her brothers with great prudence made a point of having settled on herself.

Charles was fixed in the store; and when I publicly announced my secession from business, Mr. Hoskins, in accepting him for a partner in my place, gave him a share in the bank, which was doing wonders—coining money! My brother, on succeeding Mr. Herbert as the manager of the bank, also succeeded to his share, and was grateful for the part I took in leading him on to such good fortune. My daughter Susannah was married to Mr. Bradshaw Cockspur in the spring following the election affair; an event that gave all friends on both sides great pleasure, for he is a young man of a blithe and jocund humour, none the worse of a snaffle, however, and she is a staid, judicious creature, who manages him as if he were a very lamb. Every body who knows them says it is a pleasure to see their happiness.

Every day, and almost every hour of every day, convinced me that it was not amongst “the good society” of the royal borough I was to find a quiet evening. It might be, that my habits were not in unison with those of “the better class” of the inhabitants: but I now discovered there was a more primitive cause;—I had neither been born nor bred a gentleman, as the laird of the house with the lonely lum remarked to his associates.

The worthy gentlefolks were very thankful for the dance-offering which I was worked upon to give, under the directions of Miss Beeny Needles, to appease their alleged indignant delicacy; and they would, with equal gratitude, have sung “Oh, be joyful!” had I done as much for them every month; but I could perceive there was some scruple amongst the gentlemen, especially those of the pedigree order, whether I ought to be admitted into their fraternities on an equal footing; so I buttoned my pocket, and began to urge a little more particularly, in the course of my courting with Mrs. Greenknowe, the advantage of returning to America, where my property and all my best interests lay. Her consent to this I had no great difficulty in gaining; but I made no revelation to her of the secret reasons by which I was then prompted.

After a considerable sacrifice of time on her account to decorum, and after having endured doublets of humiliation in giving and accepting invitations among the leading members of the good society, the day of our marriage and departure was finally fixed. The week previous I sent my son off with a young gentleman he had scraped some acquaintance with to London, where we proposed (that is, Mrs. Greenknowe and I) to join him, and when we had seen the curiosities, to proceed to Liverpool, and thence sail for New York together.

About two hours after my return home, as I was sitting by myself in my chamber, having requested my wife to leave me alone, a messenger came from the Eagle tavern, to beg me to go thither where a gentleman was waiting anxiously to see me. I went immediately, and was shown into a private parlour.

On entering the room, I perceived nobody, but only a table-lamp with a moon-shade: as soon, however, as the waiter closed the door, Mr. Bell came from behind it.

I was greatly agitated at the sight of him; but without speaking he walked round to the far-side of the table on which the lamp was standing, and looked at me with a strange but steady stare.

Being a tall man, the light was cast in a very awful manner on his countenance, the shadows were thrown upwards, and the dark hollows of his eyes made his visage as dismal as a memento mori.

I waited to hear what he had to say, resolved that my words should be few, and, if possible, well chosen: at last he broke silence in these strong terms:—

“So, you think me capable of committing murder.”

“You have told me so yourself, Mr. Bell,” was my answer; “be thankful you have been preserved from the guilt of so great a crime. What have I done to exasperate the sin within you to an issue so terrible?”

He looked at me for some time with a solemn eye and a resolute serenity of countenance; it was superhuman: he then said,—

“You have done me many kind favours, and yet I have been constrained to hate you.”

“Constrained, Mr. Bell! What do you mean? By what have you been constrained?”

“By Satan,” replied he: “my reason, my will, are at war within me, against the foul phantasy by which I am possessed.”

African diasporic authors have increasingly challenged the suitability of monsters from European folk and literary traditions as expressions of the complexity of racial subjectivity. Such monsters are pre-loaded with racial and ethnic significations and discourses. Rather, Afro-diasporic authors in general have made a space in their gothic texts for the monsters arising out of Black experience and diasporic folklore. The nuances expressed by such monsters reinterpret the nature of racial difference, oppression and domination. Edgar Mittelholzer's novel My Bones and My Flute, Erna Brodber's novel Myal, and Nalo Hopkinson's ‘Ganger: Ball Lightning’ and ‘Tan-Tan and Dry Bone’ particularly exemplify this practice. Furthermore, the incorporation of folk figures into twentieth-century Black Gothic texts produces narratives haunted by pre-contact histories even as these figures are revised to also reflect the impact of colonial contact and consequent oppression. Contemporary narratives incorporating folkloric monsters such as the bolom and the soucouyant emphasise the endless costs of racialisation, colonialism and its resultant modernity. A duppy may be similar to a ghost, but the devilish history of racial encounter and oppressive modernity is best reflected in its distinct details.

Authors such as Mittelholzer, Brodber and Hopkinson acknowledge the ways that unmediated Western literary genres are inadequate for minority subjects that always exist as an outsider-within among Western nation states. They critique the insidious assaults upon, and erasures of, Black identity and culture which occur in these genres, particularly the gothic. For instance, in Myal Dan and Willie – two African ancestors who possess two of the Jamaican characters in the text – recount the ways the Africanist voice is stolen from racial minorities in predominantly white, Western nations and displaced with oppressive ideologies, noting how in ‘sen[ding] in their message, using our voice’, such nations ‘split man from his self’ to render the oppressed subject ‘a working zombie’ (Brodber 1988, 66–7). The exchange touches upon the explicit nature of neo-colonialism, noting that Western imperialists ‘rule the rulers’ who have no faith in their own people or willingness to act as independent leaders to a sovereign nation. Significantly the two ancestors also comment upon the implicit strategies of neo-colonialism, stating that the false leaders have been duped into betraying their people by notions that they as leaders are enlightened.

Modern global culture makes it clear that literary study can no longer operate on nation-based or exceptionalist models. In practice, American literatures have always been understood and defined in relation to the literatures of Europe and Asia. The books in this series work within a broad comparative framework to question place-based identities and monocular visions, in historical contexts from the earliest European settlements to contemporary affairs, and across all literary genres. They explore the multiple ways in which ideas, texts, objects and bodies travel across spatial and temporal borders, generating powerful forms of contrast and affinity. The Edinburgh Critical Studies in Atlantic Literatures and Cultures series fosters new paradigms of exchange, circulation and transformation for Atlantic literary studies, expanding the critical and theoretical work of this rapidly developing field.

It was a sunny morning, early in October, when I sent off from Babelmandel Mrs. Hoskins and my two daughters in a wagon to Judiville, under the care of my son Charles: the old gentleman was already there. The woods were then in all their autumnal glory; the golden sycamore and the flaming maple illuminated the forest, and a surpassing splendour shone all around from the kindling boughs. It is not in the boundless bowers of America that the moralist can preach from the text of the fading leaf.

I forget, at this distance of time, the cause which prevented me from accompanying my family in the morning. I believe it was some matter concerning the bank, by which I was detained with Mr. Herbert, or perhaps something in his own affair: I only recollect it was late in the twilight before I reached our new home, and that he had accompanied me the greater part of the way; for we fell in together with Mr. Bradshaw Cockspur.

After dry salutations had passed between the two, Mr. Herbert returned homeward, and the young gentleman walked with me to the town.

I thought this a good opportunity to advert to the previous story of his mother and Mr. Herbert, for I had set my mind on seeing them married: and accordingly, as we sauntered leisurely along in the cool of the evening, I began to speak of my friend, to commend his many excellent qualities, and to express my hope that the close of his varied life might yet be in comfort.

To my commendations, Mr. Bradshaw acknowledged his assent; but there was a visible restraint upon him; and when I had wised round the conversation to the events by which the marriage was frustrated, he expressed with some warmth his satisfaction that it had been broken off.

The story of Protestantism in North America defies easy summary. It is, on the one hand, a religious ‘establishment’ that has fundamentally shaped the cultural traditions and social institutions of the USA and Canada. Yet it is also one piece of an increasingly pluralistic picture, contested from within and without, tempered by internal dissent and external competition. In general, North American Protestants trace their roots to the Reformation in Europe, primarily the Reformed (Calvinist) tradition, Lutherans, Methodists and Anabaptists. (Episcopalians are ordinarily included in this category; however, churches from the Anglican Communion are dealt with separately in this volume.) But this list also includes a diverse array of ‘home-grown’ groups, like the Seventh-day Adventists and, many would argue, the Latter-day Saints.

White Protestantism has been profoundly affected by the theological and cultural controversies of the early twentieth century, disputes that separated denominations and congregations into two general categories, Evangelical and mainline. The categories should be used with some caution, however, as they are slippery, subjective and notoriously hard to define. There are also important exceptions, most notably the Black Protestant churches, which both overlap with the white mainline narrative and represent a unique spiritual tradition shaped by the rigours of slavery and segregation. The African Methodist Episcopal Church and the National Baptists, for example, have common historical roots with their white mainline counterparts, and share beliefs and practices around theology and church government. Yet they are also distinct in worship practices as well as spirituality and theology, and also differ from both the white mainline and Evangelicals in matters of social ethics.

This essay focuses on the story of the ‘mainline’. We begin by noting that the word itself is relatively new and, among scholars of North American religion, controversial. ‘Mainline’ originally referred to the railroad system connecting the elite suburbs north-west of Philadelphia — thus being synonymous with wealth, social standing and old money. Exactly how the word took on a religious connotation is unclear, but by the 1960s the term was an accepted shorthand for a set of predominantly white, socially and theologically liberal denominations. In the USA, the so-called ‘mainline’ Protestant denominations usually include American Baptists, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Episcopalians, the Presbyterian Church (USA), the Reformed Church in America, the United Church of Christ and United Methodists.

On an airfield in France in 1918, a group of desperate soldiers run through the open doors of a large aircraft hanger. As they emerge, the hanger begins to explode behind them, blasts of flame and debris flaring up in the doorway. But this exciting scene from a blockbuster Hollywood film is rudely interrupted – the image slows and then freezes, before detaching from the edges of our viewing screen. The now-mobile film frame swings to the side, so we view it as a parallelogram within an otherwise blank void. Multiple other parallelograms quickly manifest in a line in front of the original, each one containing different pieces of that first image. Before we have a chance to digest this carved-up series, the numerous slices re-converge into a single plane, and this plane swings back to once more occupy the entire frame of the video we are watching. The soldiers resume their running, albeit with an even greater fireball behind them, a fireball which we now understand – albeit only quite dimly and generally – to be at least partly the product of digital visual effects work.

Generated using programs like Autodesk 3ds Max, Maya, Adobe After Effects, and NUKE, the digital effects of contemporary cinema and television are most often outsourced to effects companies rather than made by the production personnel of a given film or show. Larger media productions will contract a range of companies to complete the many hundreds of visual effects shots, insertions, and clean-ups required by today's digital media ecology of spectacle. Described above is a brief moment from a short video by the effects and post-production studio Universal Production Partners (UPP), showcasing their work on the major blockbuster film Wonder Woman (2017). It is available on the company's website, where it is listed as a ‘Showreel’ (UPP n.d.), and also on YouTube, where it was re-posted in 2018 by the FilmIsNow Movie Bloopers and Extras account under the title ‘Wonder Woman – VFX Breakdown by UPP’. In the former context, it advertises UPP's technical capacities to prospective clients; in the latter, it is likely to be encountered by a more general audience (including fans of the film and those broadly interested in visual effects spectacle).

Doctor James Ripley was always looked upon as an exceedingly lucky dog by all of the profession who knew him. His father had preceded him in a practice in the village of Hoyland, in the north of Hampshire, and all was ready for him on the very first day that the law allowed him to put his name at the foot of a prescription. In a few years the old gentleman retired, and settled on the South Coast, leaving his son in undisputed possession of the whole country side. Save for Doctor Horton, near Basingstoke, the young surgeon had a clear run of six miles in every direction, and took his fifteen hundred pounds a year, though, as is usual in country practices, the stable swallowed up most of what the consulting-room earned.

Doctor James Ripley was two-and-thirty years of age, reserved, learned, unmarried, with set, rather stern features, and a thinning of the dark hair upon the top of his head, which was worth quite a hundred a year to him. He was particularly happy in his management of ladies. He had caught the tone of bland sternness and decisive suavity which dominates without offending. Ladies, however, were not equally happy in their management of him. Professionally, he was always at their service. Socially, he was a drop of quicksilver. In vain the country mammas spread out their simple lures in front of him. Dances and picnics were not to his taste, and he preferred during his scanty leisure to shut himself up in his study, and to bury himself in Virchow's Archives and the professional journals.

Study was a passion with him, and he would have none of the rust which often gathers round a country practitioner. It was his ambition to keep his knowledge as fresh and bright as at the moment when he had stepped out of the examination hall. He prided himself on being able at a moment's notice to rattle off the seven ramifications of some obscure artery, or to give the exact percentage of any physiological compound. After a long day's work he would sit up half the night performing iridectomies and extractions upon the sheep's eyes sent in by the village butcher, to the horror of his housekeeper, who had to remove the débris next morning.

When life in London became too intense, Quin escaped and caught the train to Axminster, in retreat to Carol and Alan Burns's Swain's Lane cottage in Dorset. The cottage had no running water or elec-tricity, water was drawn from a well, and there were oil lamps and a garden with an apple orchard. Here, Quin dreamt of meeting a farm labourer like Mellors from D. H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover, spent time with her married friends Carol and Alan, reading and talking, walked for miles along the coast, and saw her then lover Henry Williamson.

Quin was promiscuous and sexually adventurous, and her permissive libertine fantasies and desires often transgressed boundaries. Her role as third to several of her married friends’ twos – including Carol and Alan Burns, Robert and Diane Sward, and Bob and Bobbie Creeley, for example (the latter of whom Three is dedicated to) – reveals a wish to access and open up the boundaries of intimate relationships and the perceived intimacy of two, and to experiment with different forms of sexuality and sexual experiences. When in conversation with John Hall, Quin describes herself as bisexual, but her interest in the performativity of gender and her resistance to binaries could be seen to position her as queer. Throughout her life Quin's desire was mobile and sometimes taboo: as a young adult she met with her father in London and ‘pretended he was my lover’; her first and long-lasting love was for her half-brother who she met at fourteen and fell ‘desperately in love with’; and towards the end of her life she fell in love with her nephew, his son. Like S, then, in her intimate and fantasy life Quin was interested in playing at and blurring distinctions between roles such daughter/sister/lover/other. As she expressed it to Brocard Sewell: ‘I have often found myself at my best, a kind of security when with two other people, most of my friends are couples, & I suppose automatically I play the role of the child.’

North America is an incredibly diverse region, despite some superficial characteristics that could lead to an assumption of homogeneity. One obvious characteristic is its apparent monolingualism, or the phenomenon that English can be used nearly everywhere across Canada and the USA, an area of nearly 12.4 million square kilometres. This belies the great ethnic and cultural diversity that manifests itself across this vast terrain, and while English might mostly be the primary language spoken on the continent, hundreds of secondary or tertiary languages are also spoken.

Select History of North American Missions

While the evangelisation of North America began with the sixteenthcentury arrival of the Spanish conquistadors in Florida on the East Coast and California on the West Coast and the arrival of the Pilgrims in 1620 at Plymouth, Massachusetts, missions proper began with John Eliot (1604–90), the ‘apostle to the Indians’. His Algonquin Bible (1663) was the first complete Bible printed in the Western hemisphere. He was followed by other luminaries among the Native Americans such as David Brainerd (1718–47) and Jonathan Edwards (1703–58), both of whom ministered among the Stockbridge Indians in western Massachusetts. Evangelism did not stop with Native Americans, however: Edwards, along with George Whitefield, launched the First Great Awakening, which led to revival and religious fervour across the Eastern seaboard, from New England (Edwards’ region) to Georgia (Whitefield's domain), among the white British colonists. Western Massachusetts later became an important location for the inspiring of American missionaries abroad at the Haystack Prayer Meeting (1806) at Williams College, where Samuel Mills, James Richards, Francis LeBaron Robbins, Harvey Loomis and Byram Green (collectively called ‘The Brethren’) committed to overseas missionary work with the eventual establishment of the American Bible Society and the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (1810). The 1806 meeting was considered the seminal moment when US American foreign missions were born. Their first missionaries to be commissioned and sent out were Ann and Adoniram Judson, from Salem, Massachusetts, to India and Burma, in 1812–13.

However, 30 years before the Judsons, the first overseas missionary from the USA was a freed Black slave, George Liele (1750–1820; alternatively spelled Lisle or Leile). He set sail from Savannah, Georgia, in 1782 and made his way to Jamaica. It must be noted that both the Judsons and Liele identified as Baptists, which was a frequent feature of US missionary Work.

During the working season, the settlers appeared singularly alike in character. I could observe nothing in those upon the road to whom I acted as boss, by which one man could be distinguished from another, save a little more alacrity and good-humour in some than in others; but as the season advanced, peculiarities became more evident, and several who had attracted no attention while employed, proved in their leisure quite a different sort of people to what I had set them down for. One man in particular, whom I thought a well-disposed, industrious creature, grew a perfect pest. It is not in the power of tongue or pen to describe the trouble that man, John Waft, gave me: not that there was any evil inclination about him, for, to speak the plain truth, he was an honest, well-meaning bodie; but he neither could see nor do any thing whatever, without breaking in upon my time to summer and winter about it.

He was a queer, odd-looking, west-country Scotchman, past the middle of life, a little—I should say, declined into the vale of years. In his general appearance, as to dress, he was somewhat more respectable than the condition of his means, poor man, altogether justified; but it was a token of the consideration in which he had been held among his neighbours at home, and evinced a desire to be well thought of by his new acquaintance.

It could not be said he was a very sensible man; indeed, the cause of my taking notice of him here was his want of sense: he proved such a thorn in my side! But he had a way of looking up from beneath his brows, and the brim of his hat, and came so whisperingly about his purposes, that, until he was found out by experience, most people imagined he possessed a creditable depth of judgment: they often, however, afterwards wondered what had become of it.

It is only remarkable men who are privileged to write their own histories; no doubt there are conceited persons who take upon them to do the same thing, but the world has little respect for such vanity. For my part, it would have been far from my heart to have thought of inditing this book, had I not discerned in the accidents of my life something that will be accounted extraordinary, to say nothing of the manner in which I have been guided; itself a demonstration that Providence had a purpose for me—whether in the way of example, or as an agent, is not for me to determine. This much, however, I may affirm, that from the first hour I had a right notion of the condition of man, I felt myself to be a something that was deemed deserving of special care and preservation, and what I have now to relate bears witness to the fact.

Close behind my house and store stood a large soap and candle manufactory, at which I never looked without receiving an intimation that it was ordained to be consumed by fire. This remarkable presentiment became at last so assured to me of fulfilment, that I spoke of it as I would do of any intent or business which must be performed. For months before the catastrophe came to pass, when the fire company, on the first Monday of every month, came to wash and clean their engine, at the pump near the corner of Liberty and Nassau Street, I often jocosely told them how I wished they would act when the candle-box, as I called the soapery, should take fire; and so persuaded was I of the sentence that had been passed upon it, that I insured my property. I had at the time a large stock on hand of early cabbage-seed lying open in the store: it had been imported; but the long embargo being then laid on, rendered it doubtful when, if any accident happened, I should be able to get another supply.

As I have already intimated, the fulness of my wife's time was coming on; but the dreadful work of the pestilence saddened the hope which my Rebecca and I cherished. Our neighbours were falling around us; the reaper was busy, and his arms were filled with the sheaf, and few were to bind or to record the number. I was so engaged in my attendance on those of our acquaintance who were ill,—going, as I have said, from house to house, both by day and by night,—that I have often wondered since by what secret miracle my poor strength was enabled to undergo the fatigue and the grief which day after day brought to me, in the removal from the earth of some kind or some early friend.

Rebecca's mother sometimes chided me for the risks I ran; but Rebecca, like myself, having committed our lives into His hands who gave them, were without dread. But as the old lady's acquaintance were one by one carried away, her fears increased, until her alarm grew to such a pitch, that, poor as we were, we advised her to go into the country; and it was a sad sight to see that mother and that daughter rive themselves asunder. Rebecca was calm, for her anchor was on high; but her mother lacked in religious confidence; and her heart being torn between a wish to remain with her daughter in her interesting situation, and a dread of the angel of destruction, she wept bitterly, and complained of her frail fortitude.

But her departure proved less of a misfortune than we at first thought it would be; for I providentially fell in with an elderly, sensible woman, whom I engaged to live with us, and to take care of my wife. She slept with Rebecca, and I established my bed in the garret above.