Judy hummed Beethoven's "Funeral March for the Death of a Hero."
“Well, of the official version of the case.”
The impression which I got of modern Hungary at Fiume was confirmed by what I saw a few days later at Budapest, the capital. There was the same air of newness and novelty, as if the city had been erected overnight, and the people had not yet grown used to it.
"Could have been," the Aga Kaga chuckled. He finished the grapes and began peeling an orange. "But they never were. Hitler could have been stopped by the Czech Air Force in 1938; Stalin was at the mercy of the primitive atomics of the west in 1946; Leung was grossly over-extended at Rangoon. But the onus of that historic role could not be overcome. It has been the fate of your spiritual forebears to carve civilization from the wilderness and then, amid tearing of garments and the heaping of ashes of self-accusation on your own confused heads, to withdraw, leaving the spoils for local political opportunists and mob leaders, clothed in the mystical virtue of native birth. Have a banana."
It did not seem polite to leave her immediately, and I continued to watch the field at her side. “It’s their last chance to score,” she flung at me, leaving me to apply the ambiguous pronoun; and after that we remained silent.
"Caroline, I wonder at your talking such nonsense. You ought to know me sufficiently----"
And Art’s creations breathed their mimic life,
"On this day," intoned the high official, while the Witnesses listened reverently, "on this day did Glen-U the Never-Mistaken, as have been his predecessors throughout the ages;—on this day did the Never-Mistaken Glen-U speak and say and observe a truth in the presence of the governors and the rulers of the universe."
“That old fellow is all right,” I said to myself, “and I’ll bet he left that arm down in Tennessee. There are a dozen good yarns tucked away under that derby hat that have never yet seen the color of white paper, and I am going to get one of them. I should say that he fought from Shiloh to Chickamauga and from Chattanooga to Nashville, and made a good one, too, or else he wouldn’t have left that arm in the enemy’s country.” “He fought the war out,” I said, after I had studied his countenance more closely and noticed the big bump of benignity that made up his back head and ended in kind, mild countenance; “and after it was over he let it stay over, forgot all its meanness, inhumanity and cussedness generally, came on up here to Indiana and went into business, attended strictly to it, and is now a well-to-do business man.”
There is an absurd but widespread tradition that James Ford had acquired, through his “frolics at the ferry,” a vast fortune consisting of “dozens of farms, hundreds of slaves, and barrels of money” and that in his will he not only named every man connected with the robber band, but gave each a slave or mule. This story, like many of the others, is absolutely without foundation. His will, recorded August 5, 1833, indicates that he was not a man of more than ordinary wealth. It was written in his own hand. It contains many errors in composition and spelling and, like many other early documents, is sparsely punctuated. It is nevertheless evidence that his practical education was far above most of his contemporaries, though his scholastic
Copyright © 2020