scientific investigation, the better sort of literary work, and every occupation that involves the persistent free use of thought, must bring the mind more and more towards the definite recognition of our social incoherence and waste. But this by no means exhausts the professions that ought to have a distinct bias for Socialism. The engineer, the architect, the mechanical inventor, the industrial organizer, and every sort of maker must be at one in their desire for emancipation from servitude to the promoter, the trader, the lawyer, and the forestaller, from the perpetually recurring obstruction of the claim of the private proprietor to every large and hopeful enterprise, and ready to respond to the immense creative element in the Socialist idea. Only it is that creative element which has so far found least expression in Socialist literature, which appears neither in the “class war” literature of the working class Socialist nor the litigious, inspecting, fining, and regulating tracts and proposals of the administrative Socialist. To too many
One of the first persons I met in Galicia was a representative of this poorer class of Jews. I reached Cracow late one afternoon in the latter part of September. There was a cold wind blowing and, for the first time since I had left Scotland, I noticed an uncomfortable keenness in the evening air, which was an indication, I suppose, that I was on the northern and eastern or the Russian side of the Carpathian Mountains. One of the first persons I encountered as I was standing shivering at the entrance of the hotel was a pale-faced, brown-eyed little boy, who spoke to me in English and seemed to want to establish some sort of friendship with me on the basis of our common acquaintance with the English language. He was unmistakably a Jew and, as we walked down the street together, he told me something of his life in London and then in Cracow. I gathered from what
At one time an effort was made to change the name of Lough Neagh to Lough Chichester, in honour of the Lord Deputy, Sir Arthur Chichester, but the Irish would not accept the new baptism, and the old name still remains unchanged.
And louder, blaring, then fading to normal volume as the AVC circuits toned the signal down, another voice. A woman's voice, crying out in panic and fear: "Jodrell Bank! Where are you? Help!"
“That is a hard question to put to me. In the abstract, yes; but in particular cases—— Is it Captain Gaunt for whom you care a little?”
Hatcher's detached limbs were quivering with excitement—and with more than excitement, because he was afraid. He was trying to conceal from the others just how afraid he was.
“I think it pretty well established,” remarked General Jackson, “that the greatest cavalry leader of the Confederacy was Gen. N. B. Forrest. His career was a curious one, as illustrating the heights to which a natural genius, uneducated though it may be, can go in its chosen path. He had twenty-nine horses, in all, killed under him during the war, and yet came out unhurt save when a minie ball one day ploughed through his stirrup and the sole of his boot. After the war, in which he rose to be a lieutenant-general, his fame as a cavalry leader had spread so far that during the Franco-Prussian War, Napoleon III sent a distinguished military tribunal over here to get General Forrest’s mode of fighting cavalry. On their way to Memphis they stopped over at Belle Meade to inspect my stud, and as I had seen a good deal of service with Forrest I was telling them of some of his ways of fighting cavalry. Only one of them could speak English, and I remember how the other two laughed as I told their interpreter how Forrest escaped annihilation by pure audacity, on Hood’s retreat out of Tennessee, of whose army his cavalry covered the retreat. Forrest’s cavalry was really mounted infantry, and he had in it also two of the deadliest batteries in the Civil War. On Hood’s retreat he saved the army by planting his batteries and checking the Federal advance—then, when they came in overpowering numbers he would fall back to another natural hill breastwork and check them again, while Hood was trying to get over Duck River. But one time he came near being annihilated. He held his ground too long when suddenly an officer dashed up and shouted:
资料图：5月18日下午，因涉嫌组织及参与去年8月至10月多场未经批准的非法集结，黎智英、李卓人、李柱铭等15人于香港西九龙裁判法院提堂。图为黎智英抵达法院。 中新社记者 李志华 摄
But if it had not been for her....
“Well,——once I was. There’s worse places.”
Just in the midst of the great good news from the West came a thing most sad to the hearts of the Pres-i-dent’s fam-i-ly. One dear boy fell ill. It was Wil-lie Lin-coln.
Copyright © 2020