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时间：2020-12-15 18:41:35 作者：王俊凯 浏览量：19130
I saw a marriage procession in Hong Kong. A large band of musicians, who succeeded in making themselves heard, were followed by coolies carrying curious looking objects in blue and gilt, which, I was told, represent mythical and historical scenes. A number of very elegant Chinese lanterns and gorgeous looking banners were also carried along. I was told that in such processions they carry roast pig to the temples of the josses, but it is afterwards very sensibly carried off by the participants.
The surplice was a sleeved vestment of white linen, plain, except at the neck, where there was occasionally a little embroidery in coloured threads. The sleeves were very full, and hung down to a considerable length when the hands were conjoined, as they generally are in monuments. The surplice was put on by being passed over the head, exactly like the alb; the modern surplice, open in front, and secured at the neck with a button, was invented within the last two hundred years, and was designed to make the assumption of the vestment possible without disarranging the enormous wigs which were worn during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
bounty and her big old heart. Maybe they just wanted to know if Baby really was special, blessedin some way they were not. He was going to tell him that, but Paul D was laughing, saying, "Uhuh. No way. A little semblance round the forehead maybe, but this ain't her mouth." So Stamp Paiddid not tell him how she flew, snatching up her children like a hawk on the wing; how her facebeaked, how her hands worked like claws, how she collected them every which way: one on hershoulder, one under her arm, one by the hand, the other shouted forward into the woodshed filledwith just sunlight and shavings now because there wasn't any wood. The party had used it all,which is why he was chopping some. Nothing was in that shed, he knew, having been there earlythat morning. Nothing but sunlight. Sunlight, shavings, a shovel. The ax he himself took out.
The next day each Quiquendonian had a kind of recollection of what had occurred the evening before. One missed his hat, lost in the hubbub; another a coat-flap, torn in the brawl; one her delicately fashioned shoe, another her best mantle. Memory returned to these worthy people, and with it a certain shame for their unjustifiable agitation. It seemed to them an orgy in which they were the unconscious heroes and heroines. They did not speak of it; they did not wish to think of it. But the most astounded personage in the town was Van Tricasse the burgomaster.
‘It is the Old Market,’ said De Forest. ‘Well, there’s nothing to prevent Illinois from making a road through a market. It doesn’t interfere with traffic, that I can see.’
It came from above, and as the light grew the mountain that was she became aware again of its fellows, spread out around no longer in a long range but in a great mass. They stretched away on all sides. At the increase of the sun there grew also an increase of fugitive sound; and she became aware of a few wandering shapes on the heights about her. Some climbed on; others, instead of welcoming the light as lost mountaineers should do, turned to escape it. They hurried into such caves or crevasses as they could find. Here and there, on a great open space, one lay fallen, twisting and dragging himself along. They seemed all, even those who climbed, grotesque obtrusions into that place of rock and ice and thin air and growing sun, a world different from theirs, hers and not hers. A divided consciousness lived in her, more intensely than ever before.
"You fella boy bad fella too much," Sheldon charged. "You steal 'm plenty. You steal 'm one fella towel, one fella cane-knife, twoten fella cartridge. My word, plenty bad fella steal 'm you. Me cross along you too much. S'pose you like 'm, me take 'm one fella pound along you in big book. S'pose you no like 'm me take 'm one fella pound, then me send you fella along Tulagi catch 'm one strong fella government whipping. Plenty New Georgia boys, plenty Ysabel boys stop along jail along Tulagi. Them fella no like Malaita boys little bit. My word, they give 'm you strong fella whipping. What you say?"
“You can contradict nothing that the newspaper has said.”
A very heavy girl wearing an orange dress came walking toward us across a wide lawn. There was a mushroom cloud appliquéd on the front of her dress. I recognized the girl; we had some classes together. I let the others walk on ahead and I stood for a moment watching her walk past me and move into the distance. I was wearing a smudge of lampblack under each eye to reduce the sun's glare. I didn't know whether the lampblack was very effective but I liked the way it looked and I liked the idea of painting myself in a barbaric manner before going forth to battle in mud. I wondered if the fat girl knew I was still watching her. I had a vivid picture of myself standing there holding my helmet at my side, left knee bent slightly, hah all mussed and the lampblack under my eyes. Her dress was brightest orange. I thought she must be a little crazy to wear a dress like that with her figure.
"But, why?" he protested, half amused at the fantastic suggestion of his leaving Hartling that night. "There must be some reason, I mean, for—well—such an extravagant remedy as that."
He struck the horse lightly, and they passed on while the little funeral cortege went slowly to the burial place for the poor and unknown dead.
1.“I have already told him.” Lord Scroope as he said this rose and moved towards the door; but he himself was almost unconscious of the movement. Some idea probably crossed his mind that he would meet the priest, but Mrs. O’Hara thought that he intended to escape from them.
"Everything in the world," said the Gelong, "is constantly in astate of change and transition--peoples science, religions, lawsand customs. How many great empires and brilliant cultures haveperished! And that alone which remains unchanged is Evil, the toolof Bad Spirits. More than sixty thousand years ago a Holymandisappeared with a whole tribe of people under the ground and neverappeared again on the surface of the earth. Many people, however,have since visited this kingdom, Sakkia Mouni, Undur Gheghen,Paspa, Khan Baber and others. No one knows where this place is.
Now many of our judgments thus attained are retrospective. The S’es, so the judgment runs, were SP’s already ere the fact was humanly recorded. Common sense, struck by this state of things, now rearranges the whole field; and traditional philosophy follows her example. The general requirement that predicates must conform to their subject, they translate into an ontological theory. A most previous Subject of all is substituted for the lesser subjects and conceived of as an archetypal Reality; and the conformity required of predicates in detail is reinterpreted as a relation which our whole mind, with all its subjects and predicates together, must get into with respect to this Reality. It, meanwhile, is conceived as eternal, static, and unaffected by our thinking. Conformity to a non-human Archetype like this is probably the notion of truth which my opponent shares with common sense and philosophic rationalism.
Upon the other side of the stream, somewhat lower down, a yellow wood-dog had been lapping the water to quench its thirst, watching the man the while. So long as Felix was intent upon his work, the wild animal had no fear; the moment he looked up, the creature sprang back into the underwood. A dove was cooing in the forest not far distant, but as he was about to resume work the cooing ceased. Then a wood-pigeon rose from the ashes with a loud clapping of wings. Felix listened. His hunter instinct told him that something was moving there. A rustling of the bushes followed, and he took his spear which had been leant against the adjacent tree. But, peering into the wood, in a moment he recognised Oliver, who, having walked off his rage, was returning.