among women of the lower classes. Until I went to London I do not believe that I had more than once or twice in my life seen women standing side by side with the men in order to drink at a public bar. One of the first things I noticed in London was the number of drunken, loafing women that one passed in the streets of the poorer quarters. More than once I ran across these drunken and besotted creatures, with red, blotched faces, which told of years of steady excess—ragged, dirty, and disorderly in their clothing—leaning tipsily against the outside of a gin-parlour or sleeping peacefully on the pavement of an alleyway.
"India! Oh, I don't know," she said, surprised. "I have never thought of going anywhere."
"I know, I know," he soothed with tenderness, and waited, stroking her hair until she grew calmer. "Well? How did it happen? Don't tell me unless you like; it won't make any difference."
So Thrid younglings were trained not to think; not to have any opinion about anything; only to repeat what nobody questioned; only to do what they were told by authority. It occurred to Jorgenson that on a planet with such a population, a skeptic could make a great deal of confusion.
A century ago and more, its rock-ribbed walls echoed the drunken hilarity of villains and witnessed the death struggles of many a vanished man. Today this former haunt of criminals is as quiet as a tomb. Nothing is left in the Cave to indicate the outrages that were committed there in the olden days.
He rides through the street to-day
Pres-i-dent Lin-coln told Hal-leck to men-ace Co-lum-bus on the Mis-sis-sip-pi and Bu-ell at the same time to move up-on the force un-der John-ston, at Bowl-ing Green in cen-tral Ken-tuc-ky. These men did not do as the Pres-i-dent had told them to, and they did not e-ven an-swer his let-ter or or-der. Then it was that the
At a holy well in the south, dedicated to St. Augustine, the friars began to build a convent. And during all the hours of work bells were heard ringing sweetly and voices singing; but one day a woman came and washed her feet in the water of the well, and thereupon all the bells ceased and the singing stopped, and the work could not go on. So the friars chose another site, and they drew a circle round it, within which no woman was to set her foot; and after this the bells began to ring again and the voices sang, and the work went on safely till the convent was completed in the name of God and St. Augustine; but no woman during all that time ever set foot on the holy ground.
But Karl Klindworth had nothing of beastliness in him. In writing about Klindworth I shall, I am convinced, feel rather old, and you, when reading about him, will, I greatly fear, also feel rather old. You see Klindworth belongs so awfully to the past. Yet he was a very great man in his day, and there must be still in London many people who knew him in those silly, savage days when stupid people (and they were brutally stupid) thought of Wagner what brutally stupid people think to-day of Richard Strauss.
Hartford stared after the girl. "You're right, Pia," he said. "No matter how comfy Goodyear makes those safety-suits, home is best."详情 ➢
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