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woodwork, and the clumsy harness, seemed intensified by the surrounding silence of the Indian night. The stuffy conveyance was filled with the scent of violets--lately Rafella had taken to scent, strong scent that clung and impregnated everything she wore. At her breast was a cluster of violets that had come from the pots in Mr. Kennard"s veranda, and now, dying, the flowers gave out a stale fragrance. To the angry man at her side the concentrated perfume was atrocious. It seemed to be connected in some subtle way with the alteration in his wife"s behaviour--to breathe of all that was false and worthless in a woman"s heart. Bitterly he blamed the follies and temptations of Indian life, and her failure to withstand them. It did not occur to him that, with her limited intelligence, her inexperience of life, and her undeveloped outlook, things would have been the same in any quarter of the earth, given the scope and opportunity. He was a man who could not make allowances, who could perceive no point of view except his own; yet withal he was a straight and honourable English soldier, with high standards of right and wrong, and a deep sense of the sanctity of marriage. Such people are often incapable of distinguishing between mere foolishness and sin; they will argue that there are no degrees of infidelity, and that a false step necessarily implies

Democratic Federation—the crude Marxite teaching. It still awaits permeation by true Socialist conceptions. It is a version of life adapted essentially to the imagination of the working wage earner, and limited by his limitations. It is the vision of poor souls perennially reminded each Monday morning of the shadow and irksomeness of life, perpetually recalled each Saturday pay time to a watery gleam of all that life might be. One of the numberless relationships of life, the relationship of capital or the employer to the employed, is made to overshadow all other relations. Get that put right, “expropriate the idle rich,” transfer all capital to the State, make the State the humane, amenable, universal employer—that, to innumerable, Socialist working men, is the horizon. The rest he sees in the forms of the life to which he is accustomed. A little home, a trifle larger and brighter than his present one, a more abounding table, a cheerful missus released from factory work and unhealthy competition with men, a bright and healthy

"Well, well," said Father O"Rourke, when I told him of my good-fortune, "Jeremiah was far-sighted when he prophesied "the wild asses shall stand in the high places" (et onagri steterunt in rupibus). "Tis Drum-Major they"ll be making you next, and never a step for me, though I"ve the hardest and most dangerous work in the world trying to keep your heathen souls out of the clutch of a bigger enemy than Prince Lobkowitz himself. But "tis a family party you are, anyway—here"s a Major-General MacDonnell, and a Lieutenant-General MacDonnell, and a Colonel, and a Captain and a Lieutenant, and that poor little orphan, Angus, you left behind in Rome, and now they must needs make an Ensign of you. Faith, you"re so plentiful hereabouts, I begin to believe the story that you had a boat of your own in the time of Noah."

McCray had both of these, of course. It was merely one more reason why he could not abandon her and go on ... if, that is, he could find some reason for going in one direction preferably to another, and if a wall would conveniently open again to let him go there.

Since these days Brighouse has scored a big success with Hobson’s Choice. He will score other successes. He will die reputed and rich. He will live, some day, in a West End flat and have a cottage in the country from which he will issue at regular intervals and take long walks in muddy lanes. I believe he will sedulously cultivate the friendship of those who may be of service to him, and he will drink his pint of beer every day of his life. He will be praised twice a year by Sir William Robertson Nicoll. Yes, he will be praised twice a year by Sir William Robertson Nicoll. And when Sir William dies, Mr St John Adcock will take up the cry. And, when the war is over, our successful young dramatist will go to America, where the money comes from.... I should like to see Harold in America.


“Larf!” ses I, “Why Lor bless your hart darlint, I’d more likely be weeping for the unhappy family.”

"Bah! Your over-zealousness has cost me dear. I was feeding Flamme to the Aga Kagans to consolidate our position of moral superiority for use as a lever in a number of important negotiations. Now they"ve backed out! Aga Kaga emerges from the affair wreathed in virtue. You"ve destroyed a very pretty finesse in power politics, Mr. Magnan! A year"s work down the drain!"

He said “A house di-vi-ded a-gainst it-self can-not stand. I be-lieve this gov-ern-ment can-not en-dure half slave and half free. I do not ex-pect the Un-ion to be dis-solved; I do not ex-pect the house to fall; but I ex-pect it will cease to be di-vi-ded. It will be-come all one thing or all the oth-er. Ei-ther the op-po-nents of sla-ver-y will ar-rest the fur-ther spread of it and place it where the pub-lic mind shall rest in the be-lief that it is in the course of ul-ti-mate ex-tinc-tion, or the ad-vo-cates will push it for-ward till it shall be-come a-like law-ful in all the states—old as well as new, North as well as South.”


The people of Helmingham village, when they saw the carriage containing Mr. Creswell and his bride spinning away to the station, after indulging in a fresh theme of talk expressive of their surprise at all that had happened, and their delight at the cleverness of the schoolmaster"s daughter, who had, as they politely expressed it, "carried her pigs to such a good market," began to discuss the situation at Woolgreaves; and as it had been universally agreed that the day should be made a general holiday, the new-married folk, and their kith and kin, their past and future, were served up as topics of conversation, not merely at the various village tea-tables, but in the commercial room of the Lion at Brocksopp, which, there being no commercial gentlemen staying in the house, had been yielded up to the tenantry on the estate, who were given to understand that Mr. Teesdale, Mr. Creswell"s agent, would attend to the bill. It was long since the Lion had done such a roaring trade, for the commercial gents, by whom the house was chiefly frequented, though convivial souls, were apt to be convivial on small orders, "fours" of rum and "sixes" of brandy; and it was only on exceptional occasions that old Mr. Mulock, who "travelled in hardware," would suffer himself to be fined a crown bowl of punch for having committed the uncommercial atrocity of smoking in the commercial room before seven o"clock, or young Mr. Cunynghame, who represented his own firm in Scotch goods--a very pushing young gentleman, and a wonderful fellow to get on--would "stand champagne round" when he had received a specially remunerative order. But now Miss Parkhurst, in the bar, had not a second to herself, the demand for her strong mahogany-coloured brandy-and-water was so great; steaming jorums of "hot with" here, huge goblets of "cold without" there; the fascinating Hebe of the Lion had not dispensed so much drink at one time since the day when old Major Barth was returned in the Conservative interest for Brocksopp--and the major, it is allowed, was not merely a hard drinker himself, but the cause of hard drinking in others; while as for old Tilley, the jolly landlord, he was so overwhelmed with the exertion of punch-compounding, that he took off the short-tailed snuff-coloured coat which he usually wore, and went to work in his shirt-sleeves, slicing lemons, mixing, strengthening, sweetening--ay, and tasting too--until his pleasant face, always round and red, assumed a greater rotundity and an extra glow, and his little, short, fat body ached again with fatigue.


“Your father, dear? Why, because he was a married man.” She had a reminiscent smile. “Molly was born already—she was six months old when Fort Sumter fell. I remember I was nursing her when Papa came in with the news. We couldn’t believe it.” She paused to match a silk placidly. “Married men weren’t called upon to fight,” she explained.

I have found since I returned from Europe that the extent of drunkenness among Englishwomen has frequently been a matter of observation and comment. Richard Grant White,

“I don’t——”

  碰巧读了《华尔街日报》的2月3日刊登的来论《中国是真正的亚洲病夫》,作者是耶鲁大学的国际政治学教授沃尔特·米德(Walter Russell Mead)。当时就觉得文不对题,文章基本是美国右翼学者批评中国的老调重弹,只不过借疫情加个引子,但这个标题却弥漫着十足的“标题党”的怪味。不禁让人唏嘘,百年大报也沦落至此。

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