The 30-year long series of weekly news in Latin has come to its end. The last broadcast is going to be on the waves tomorrow, 14th of June, 2019. Many listeners are going to miss it.

Nuntii Latini Radiophoniae Finnicae Generalis, qui inde ab anno millesimo nongentesimo undenonagesimo (1989) iam triginta annos septimanatim emittuntur, post hanc emissionem finiuntur et decreto moderatorum radiophonicorum post ferias aestivas non continuabuntur. Auscultatoribus, quorum grex ad omnes orbis continentes amplificatus est, propter fidelitatem gratias quam maximas agimus et valedicimus.

It will be available some time tomorrow. The text is there already.
https://areena.yle.fi/1-50142295

I didn't know about this. Wish I had as I have a degreein Latin

I heard that speakers of latin are going to war with speakers of hebrew.

Also with speakers of Sumerian and Pictish.

Predictions are that very little blood will be shed.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 06/16/2019 07:21PM by Lot's Wife.

I'm sending the speakers of reformed egyptian to change your attitude.

They will have to get past my Etruscan bodyguards.

Dave the Atheist Wrote:
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> I heard that speakers of latin are going to war
> with speakers of hebrew.

The Swiss Guard vs the IDF? I'm sure the Bishop of Rome has some decent bunkers, but the air power of the Israelis may be a problem. They will have to cross NATO airspace though.

Last broadcast, eh?

Wouldn't that be on "finish" radio?

http://ephemeris.alcuinus.net/holmesiaca.php

Teneo hic chartulas nonnullas – dixit amicus meus Sherlock Holmes vesperi hiemali, cum assedebamus alter a laeva, alterque a dextra latere fornacis – quae, puto, etiam tua intersint, mi Watson. Haec sunt documenta illius insoliti casus navis "Gloria Scott", dum hic habes nuntium, qui iudicem pacis nomine Trevor ita perterruit, ut mortuus sit eo modo perlecto.

E forulo ductili mensae produxit parvum cylindratum involucrum, dissolvit taeniolam et porrexit mihi parvam chartulam, cui aliquis parum clare inscripserat sententias nonnullas:

Ludus harpasti male progressus est. Adsit nostris voluntas, finitus tamen robur pristinus. Hudson valet. Altilium curator dixit bene se habitura omnia ad phasanos pertinentia. Serva effugit, sed capta, vitam ut servet obsecrat. Tuam pituitam bene medearis!

Quas miras sententiolas legere atque intellegere cum conabar, inspexi amicum meum subridere impressionem vultus mei intuens.

- Aliquantulum mirari mihi videris, amice – dixit.

- Vix crederem hunc nuntium aliquem exterruisse. Mihi is ridiculus tantum videtur.

- Certe ita. Sine dubio tamen vir robustus et fortis, qui usque ad mortem erat Trevor licet esset provecta iam paululum aetate, notula hac perlecta collapsus est in terram, quasi capite manubrio pistolii percusso.

- Res vero mirissima – respondi. – Huncne propter nuntiolum secretum dixisti chartulas has mea interesse posse?

- Non solum. Erat is primus casus in curriculo meo detectoris.

Iam diu conatus sum exprimere ex amico meo causam, qua ductus decreverit artem criminalisticam sequi. Adhuc tamen numquam contigit mihi eum affabili anima arreptum hoc rogato adoriri. Nunc tamen se prorsus aliquantum in sella proclinavit, ut super genubus chartulas poneret. Post breve temporis momentum pipam accendit, chartas vertere pergens.

- Re vera numquam tibi de Victore Trevor narravi? – rogavit. – Erat solus meus amicus his duobus annis, quos in collegio trivi. Numquam homo valde sociabilis eram, mi Watson, semper libentius in conclavi meo manerem methodos meas futuras deducendi excogitans, quam inter collegas meos coaetaneos versarem. Praeter battualia pugilatumve nulla athletica arte delectabar, insuper petita mea academica omnino alia erant quam collegarum, nullum ergo manebat nostris forum una conveniendi. Trevor solus ibi homo erat, quem profundius noscerem, quod quoque quidem per casum evenit: canis eius, seminio tauriterrarius, talum mihi momordit.

Illegitimi non carborundum

"I have some papers here," said my friend Sherlock Holmes, as we sat one winter's night on either side of the fire, "which I really think, Watson, that it would be worth your while to glance over. These are the documents in the extraordinary case of the Gloria Scott, and this is the message which struck Justice of the Peace Trevor dead with horror when he read it."

He had picked from a drawer a little tarnished cylinder, and, undoing the tape, he handed me a short note scrawled upon a half-sheet of slate grey-paper.

"The supply of game for London is going steadily up," it ran. "Head-keeper Hudson, we believe, has been now told to receive all orders for fly-paper and for preservation of your hen-pheasant's life."

As I glanced up from reading this enigmatic message, I saw Holmes chuckling at the expression upon my face.

"You look a little bewildered," said he.

"I cannot see how such a message as this could inspire horror. It seems to me to be rather grotesque than otherwise."

"Very likely. Yet the fact remains that the reader, who was a fine, robust old man, was knocked clean down by it as if it had been the butt end of a pistol."

"You arouse my curiosity," said I. "But why did you say just now that there were very particular reasons why I should study this case?"

"Because it was the first in which I was ever engaged."

I had often endeavoured to elicit from my companion what had first turned his mind in the direction of criminal research, but had never caught him before in a communicative humour. Now he sat forward in his arm chair and spread out the documents upon his knees. Then he lit his pipe and sat for some time smoking and turning them over.

"You never heard me talk of Victor Trevor?" he asked. "He was the only friend I made during the two years I was at college. I was never a very sociable fellow, Watson, always rather fond of moping in my rooms and working out my own little methods of thought, so that I never mixed much with the men of my year. Bar fencing and boxing I had few athletic tastes, and then my line of study was quite distinct from that of the other fellows, so that we had no points of contact at all. Trevor was the only man I knew, and that only through the accident of his bull terrier freezing on to my ankle one morning as I went down to chapel.