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"It looks so dirty."
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Tony Last
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I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a
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that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up
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resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill.
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in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a
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her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St
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kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda
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you tell me whether Mr Last made another will?" "I'm afraid that is a thing I cannot discuss." "No, I suppose not. I'm sorry if it was wrong to ask. I just wanted to know how I am with him." She still stood between the door and the table, looking lost, in her bright summer clothes. "Perhaps I can say as much as this to guide you. The heirs-presumptive to Hetton are now his cousins, the Richard Lasts at Princes Risborough. I think that your knowledge of Mr Last's character and opinions will tell you that he would always wish his fortune to go with the estate, in order that it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding
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they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly."<|quote|>"It looks so dirty."</|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."
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No speaker
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Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No,
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it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in
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* * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The
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It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady
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Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move
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and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_
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Mr Last made another will?" "I'm afraid that is a thing I cannot discuss." "No, I suppose not. I'm sorry if it was wrong to ask. I just wanted to know how I am with him." She still stood between the door and the table, looking lost, in her bright summer clothes. "Perhaps I can say as much as this to guide you. The heirs-presumptive to Hetton are now his cousins, the Richard Lasts at Princes Risborough. I think that your knowledge of Mr Last's character and opinions will tell you that he would always wish his fortune to go with the estate, in order that it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them.
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found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty."<|quote|>"Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."</|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was
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A Handful Of Dust
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"But it isn't Wednesday?"
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Tony Last
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to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different
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get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"
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It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them
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fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the
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was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address
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and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got
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I'm sorry if it was wrong to ask. I just wanted to know how I am with him." She still stood between the door and the table, looking lost, in her bright summer clothes. "Perhaps I can say as much as this to guide you. The heirs-presumptive to Hetton are now his cousins, the Richard Lasts at Princes Risborough. I think that your knowledge of Mr Last's character and opinions will tell you that he would always wish his fortune to go with the estate, in order that it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three
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his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting."<|quote|>"But it isn't Wednesday?"</|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and
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A Handful Of Dust
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"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"
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No speaker
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meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far
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go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to
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Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie
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and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks
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Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I
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of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with
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was wrong to ask. I just wanted to know how I am with him." She still stood between the door and the table, looking lost, in her bright summer clothes. "Perhaps I can say as much as this to guide you. The heirs-presumptive to Hetton are now his cousins, the Richard Lasts at Princes Risborough. I think that your knowledge of Mr Last's character and opinions will tell you that he would always wish his fortune to go with the estate, in order that it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils
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at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?"<|quote|>"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"</|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."
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Tony Last
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in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council
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"No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde
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are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter.
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down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line
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newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing
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Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John
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I am with him." She still stood between the door and the table, looking lost, in her bright summer clothes. "Perhaps I can say as much as this to guide you. The heirs-presumptive to Hetton are now his cousins, the Richard Lasts at Princes Risborough. I think that your knowledge of Mr Last's character and opinions will tell you that he would always wish his fortune to go with the estate, in order that it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along
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happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?"<|quote|>"I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."</|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me?
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A Handful Of Dust
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"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.
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No speaker
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quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She
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He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here
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now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible
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cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of
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days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening
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she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt
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to guide you. The heirs-presumptive to Hetton are now his cousins, the Richard Lasts at Princes Risborough. I think that your knowledge of Mr Last's character and opinions will tell you that he would always wish his fortune to go with the estate, in order that it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded
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he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening."<|quote|>"But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.</|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are
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A Handful Of Dust
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"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."
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Tony Last
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of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I
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committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to
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He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross."
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You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that
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read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of
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of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I
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it may be preserved in what he holds to be its right condition." "Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City
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go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested.<|quote|>"She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."</|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue;
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."
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No speaker
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right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.
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daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand
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Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil."
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it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far
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mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda.
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August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in
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"Yes," said Brenda, "I ought to have thought of that. Well, good-bye." And she went out alone into the sunshine. * * * * * All that day Tony lay alone, fitfully oblivious of the passage of time. He slept a little; once or twice he left his hammock and found himself weak and dizzy. He tried to eat some of the food which Dr Messinger had left out for him, but without success. It was not until it grew dark that he realized the day was over. He lit the lantern and began to collect wood for the fire, but the sticks kept slipping from his fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to
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Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse."<|quote|>"Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."</|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Ladies and gentlemen,"
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Tony Last
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address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you
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"I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am
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rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had
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you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive
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different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm
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in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes,
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fingers and each time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of
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broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear."<|quote|>"Ladies and gentlemen,"</|quote|>said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Tony.
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No speaker
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"Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand
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Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and
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line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts."
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confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I
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surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love
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Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the
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time that he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants
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had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."
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Tony Last
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"Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No
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address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing
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Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for
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remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts
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remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes,
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her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the
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he stooped he felt giddy, so that after a few fretful efforts he left them where they had fallen and returned to his hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to
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and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony.<|quote|>"I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."</|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."
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No speaker
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has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing
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from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for
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out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A
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it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in
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be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to
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everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of
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hammock. And lying there, wrapped in his blanket, he began to cry. After some hours of darkness the lamp began to burn low; he leant painfully over, and shook it. It needed refilling. He knew where the oil was kept, crept to it, supporting himself first on the hammock rope and then on a pile of boxes. He found the keg, pulled out the bung and began to refill the lamp, but his hand trembled and the oil spilled over the ground, then his head began to swim again so that he shut his eyes; the keg rolled over on its side and emptied itself with slow gurglings. When he realized what had happened, he began to cry again. He lay down in his hammock and in a few minutes the light sank, flickered and went out. There was a reek of kerosene on his hands and on the sodden earth. He lay awake in the darkness crying. Just before dawn the fever returned and a constant company of phantoms perplexed his senses. * * * * * Brenda awoke in the lowest possible spirits. The evening before she had spent alone at a cinema. Afterwards she felt hungry--she had had no proper meal that day--but she had not the strength to go alone into any of the supper restaurants. She bought a meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his
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round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions."<|quote|>"Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."</|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Why are you all changing your clothes?"
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Tony Last
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breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were
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said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For
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see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside
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against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why,
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you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken
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they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple
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meat pie at a coffee stall and took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his
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like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority."<|quote|>"Why are you all changing your clothes?"</|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession.
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A Handful Of Dust
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asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.
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No speaker
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you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you
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an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to
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I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There
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proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has
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Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He
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was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on
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took it home. It looked delicious but when she came to eat she found that she had lost her appetite. The remains of that pie lay on the dressing table when she awoke. It was August and she was entirely alone. Beaver was that day landing in New York. (He had cabled her from mid-ocean that the crossing was excellent.) It was for her the last of Beaver. Parliament was over and Jock Grant-Menzies was paying his annual visit to his elder brother in Scotland; Marjorie and Allan at the last moment had made Lord Monomark's yacht and were drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's
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* * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?"<|quote|>asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.</|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Why, I didn't know you were here."
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Tony Last
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with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you
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in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir.
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inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall
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clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank
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improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever
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the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which
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drifting luxuriously down the coast of Spain attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends
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that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose.<|quote|>"Why, I didn't know you were here."</|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."
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No speaker
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didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach
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Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay
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It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables,
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on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the
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servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the
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and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons
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attending bull-fights (they had even asked her to look after Djinn). Her mother was at the chalet Lady Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a
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about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here."<|quote|>"I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."</|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air;
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A Handful Of Dust
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"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"
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Tony Last
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no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly,
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ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes,
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no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to
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"Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs
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I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He
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by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the
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Anchorage always lent her on the Lake of Geneva. Polly was everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she
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wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock."<|quote|>"But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"</|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."
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No speaker
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City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There
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how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using
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the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the
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saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in
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Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in
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Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None
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everywhere. Even Jenny Abdul Akbar was cruising in the Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking
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took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?"<|quote|>"I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."</|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."
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Tony Last
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directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order
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here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But
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with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue;
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green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of
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I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open.
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gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of
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Baltic. Brenda opened her newspaper and read an article by a young man who said that the London Season was a thing of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can
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ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library."<|quote|>"Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."</|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I will send the order to the stables, sir."
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No speaker
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gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the
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now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to
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You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other
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the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the
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of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding
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given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr
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of the past; that everyone was too busy in those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can
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proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil."<|quote|>"I will send the order to the stables, sir."</|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion
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A Handful Of Dust
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"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."
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Tony Last
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order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride
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Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr
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how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were
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bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze.
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John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message
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bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in
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those days to keep up the pre-war routine; that there were no more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at
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by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir."<|quote|>"But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."</|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they
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A Handful Of Dust
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"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."
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No speaker
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told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you,
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don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved
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serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up
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is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and
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two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were
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cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He
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more formal dances but a constant round of more modest entertaining; that August in London was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't
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the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her."<|quote|>"You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."</|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Very well, Ambrose."
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Tony Last
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Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee
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to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the
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in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card
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know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the
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for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air;
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St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen
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was the gayest time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver
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to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe."<|quote|>"Very well, Ambrose."</|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.
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No speaker
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the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's
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sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"
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dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back
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here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then
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putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed
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suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some
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time of all (he rewrote this annually in slightly different words). It did not console Brenda to read that article. For weeks past she had attempted to keep a fair mind towards Tony and his treatment of her; now at last she broke down, and turning over buried her face in the pillow in an agony of resentment and self-pity. * * * * * In Brazil she wore a ragged cotton gown of the same pattern as Rosa's. It was not unbecoming. Tony watched her for some time before he spoke. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Don't you like it? I got it from Polly." "It looks so dirty." "Well, Polly travels about a lot. You must get up now to go to the County Council meeting." "But it isn't Wednesday?" "No, but time is different in Brazil; surely you remember?" "I can't get as far as Pigstanton. I've got to stay here until Messinger comes back. I'm ill. He told me to be quiet. He's coming this evening." "But all the County Council are here. The Shameless Blonde brought them in her aeroplane." Sure enough they were all there. Reggie St Cloud was chairman. He said, "I strongly object to Milly being on the committee. She is a woman of low repute." Tony protested. "She has a daughter. She has as much right here as Lady Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a
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Cockpurse." "Order," said the Mayor. "I must ask you gentlemen to confine your remarks to the subject under discussion. We have to decide about the widening of the Bayton-Pigstanton road. There have been several complaints that it's impossible for the Green Line buses to turn the corner safely at Hetton Cross." "Green Line _rats_." "I said Green Line rats. Mechanical green line rats. Many of the villagers have been scared by them and have evacuated their cottages." "I evacuated," said Reggie St Cloud. "I was driven out of my house by mechanical green rats." "Order," said Polly Cockpurse. "I move that Mr Last address the meeting." "Hear, hear." "Ladies and gentlemen," said Tony. "I beg you to understand that I am ill and must not move from the hammock. Dr Messinger has given the clearest instructions." "Winnie wants to bathe." "No bathing in Brazil. No bathing in Brazil." The meeting took up the cry. "No bathing in Brazil." "But you had two breakfasts." "Order," said the Mayor. "Lord St Cloud, I suggest you put the question to the vote." "The question is whether the contract for the widening of the corner of Hetton Cross shall be given to Mrs Beaver. Of the tenders submitted hers was by far the most expensive but I understand that her plans include a chromium-plated wall on the south side of the village..." "...and two breakfasts," prompted Winnie. "...and two breakfasts for the men engaged on the work. Those in favour of the motion will make a clucking sound in imitation of hens, those against will say bow-wow." "A most improper proceeding," said Reggie. "What will the servants think?" "We have got to do something until Brenda has been told." "...Me? I'm all right." "Then I take it the motion is carried." "Oh, I _am_ glad Mrs Beaver got the job," said Brenda. "You see I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver, I'm in love with John Beaver." "Is that the decision of the committee?" "Yes, she is in love with John Beaver." "Then that is carried unanimously." "No," said Winnie. "He ate two breakfasts." "...by an overwhelming majority." "Why are you all changing your clothes?" asked Tony, for they were putting on hunting coats. "For the lawn meet. Hounds are meeting here to-day." "But you can't hunt in summer." "Time is different in Brazil and there is no bathing." "I saw a fox yesterday in Bruton Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose."<|quote|>"Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.</|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it
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A Handful Of Dust
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"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"
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Tony Last
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and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't
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but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by...
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of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with
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pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who
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employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your
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DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at
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Wood. A mechanical green fox with a bell inside him that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was
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Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English.<|quote|>"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"</|quote|>said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Tony.
|
No speaker
|
spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They
|
"You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired...
|
were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of
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was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not
|
long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is
|
for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached
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that jingled as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At
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was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days,"<|quote|>said Tony.</|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"
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Tony Last
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me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger
|
first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a
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and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think
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clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium
|
of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a
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six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and
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as he ran. It frightened them so much that they ran away and the whole beach was deserted and there was no bathing except for Beaver. He can bathe every day, for the time is different in Brazil." "I'm in love with John Beaver," said Ambrose. "Why, I didn't know you were here." "I came to remind you that you were ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is
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upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony.<|quote|>"The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"</|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But
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A Handful Of Dust
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"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."
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Mr Todd
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haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top
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new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You
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was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some
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insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported
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man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're
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it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full
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ill, sir. You must on no account leave your hammock." "But how can I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well
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thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?"<|quote|>"You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."</|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in
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A Handful Of Dust
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"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."
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Tony Last
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for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to
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first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side,
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so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.
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to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I
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cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't
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impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and
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I reach the City if I stay here?" "I will serve it directly, sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught
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became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time."<|quote|>"She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."</|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast,
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A Handful Of Dust
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Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.
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No speaker
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left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house
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a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think
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back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs
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English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a
|
his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll
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come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride
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sir, in the library." "Yes, in the library. There is no point in using the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my
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the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her."<|quote|>Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.</|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."
|
Mr Todd
|
side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah
|
to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture
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new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout
|
others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When
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of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met
|
ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in
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the dining-hall now that her Ladyship has gone to live in Brazil." "I will send the order to the stables, sir." "But I don't want the pony. I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that
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years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there.<|quote|>"Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."</|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest
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A Handful Of Dust
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Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.
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No speaker
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some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"
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If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed
|
top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I
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canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to
|
were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling
|
of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that
|
I told Ben to sell her." "You will have to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with
|
the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you."<|quote|>Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.</|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said.
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"
|
Tony Last
|
savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed
|
you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver
|
Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a
|
back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind
|
dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel
|
roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I
|
to ride to the smoking-room, sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from
|
breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut.<|quote|>"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"</|quote|>he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
he said,
|
No speaker
|
"Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't
|
savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it
|
someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't
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didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you...
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they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired
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and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you
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sir. Dr Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree.
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dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character,"<|quote|>he said,</|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows
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A Handful Of Dust
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"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."
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Tony Last
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with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd
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Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet
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Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led
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expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long
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to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and
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and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful.
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Messinger has taken the canoe." "Very well, Ambrose." "Thank you, sir." The committee had moved off down the avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people
|
through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said,<|quote|>"indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."</|quote|>"Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Try and walk."
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Mr Todd
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cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to
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see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him
|
can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the
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are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing
|
and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop
|
savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say
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avenue; all except Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after
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occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating."<|quote|>"Try and walk."</|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride
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A Handful Of Dust
|
Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.
|
No speaker
|
chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It
|
she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just
|
walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we
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stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My
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his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much
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of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words.
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Colonel Inch who had taken the other drive and was trotting towards Compton Last. Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely
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the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk."<|quote|>Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.</|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."
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Tony Last
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him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across
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to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards
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squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That
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hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.
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stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what
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a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her
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Tony and Mrs Rattery were all alone. "Bow-wow," she said, scooping in the cards. "That carries the motion." Looking up from the card table, Tony saw beyond the trees the ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to
|
those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm.<|quote|>"I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."</|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside
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A Handful Of Dust
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Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.
|
No speaker
|
was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short
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is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there
|
with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,
|
you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married
|
tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something
|
in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever
|
ramparts and battlement of the City; it was quite near him. From the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are
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the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice."<|quote|>Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.</|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."
|
Mr Todd
|
of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten
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led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to
|
feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about
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can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well,
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a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her
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longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I
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the turret of the gatehouse a heraldic banner floated in the tropic breeze. He struggled into an upright position and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are
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the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house.<|quote|>"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."</|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."
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Tony Last
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something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say,
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there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too.
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on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That
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local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you
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but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a
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day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted
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and threw aside his blankets. He was stronger and steadier when the fever was on him. He picked his way through the surrounding thorn-scrub; the sound of music rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since
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longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better."<|quote|>"Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."</|quote|>Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she
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A Handful Of Dust
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Presently he said,
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No speaker
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ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm
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That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is
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towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married
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Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as
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seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins.
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and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats.
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rose from the glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He
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the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since."<|quote|>Presently he said,</|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."
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Tony Last
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eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't
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long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more.
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"It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose
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feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right...
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very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark.
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He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable
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glittering walls; some procession or pageant was passing along them. He lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."
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at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said,<|quote|>"I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."</|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."
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Mr Todd
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too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are
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say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all
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will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get
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bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in
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left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.
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those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's
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lurched into three trunks and became caught up in roots and hanging tendrils of bush-vine; but he pressed forward, unconscious of pain and fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes,
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him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last."<|quote|>"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."</|quote|>Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his
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A Handful Of Dust
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Tony looked round him.
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No speaker
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I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes,
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you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark
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in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know,
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green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what
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house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better
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Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up
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fatigue. At last he came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it.
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that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you."<|quote|>Tony looked round him.</|quote|>"Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Are you all English?"
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Tony Last
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you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That
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journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor...
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was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier...
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Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in
|
you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be
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sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs
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came into the open. The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_
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mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him.<|quote|>"Are you all English?"</|quote|>"Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy.
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Yes, all of us."
|
Mr Todd
|
him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a
|
of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I
|
ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No,
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across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."
|
manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you
|
clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony
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The gates were before him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will
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in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?"<|quote|>"Yes, all of us."</|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"
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Tony Last
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English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too
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round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked
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since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some
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grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers.
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it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I
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bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the
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him and trumpets were sounding along the walls, saluting his arrival; from bastion to bastion the message ran to the four points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was
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at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us."<|quote|>"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"</|quote|>"Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes."
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Mr Todd
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some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired
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you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it
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bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty
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you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If
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harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am
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of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash.
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points of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well
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Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?"<|quote|>"Yes."</|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."
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Tony Last
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kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as
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all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's
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about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John
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better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from
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with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing
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his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he
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of the compass; petals of almond and apple blossom were in the air; they carpeted the way, as, after a summer storm, they lay in the orchards at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall
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way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes."<|quote|>"Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."</|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was
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A Handful Of Dust
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"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."
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Mr Todd
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and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you
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bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting
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us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual
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eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf
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Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She
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eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the
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at Hetton. Gilded cupolas and spires of alabaster shone in the sunlight. Ambrose announced, "The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over
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over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here."<|quote|>"No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."</|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She
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A Handful Of Dust
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"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."
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Tony Last
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It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but
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as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.
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I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has
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is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire.
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ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will
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when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * *
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"The City is served." CHAPTER VI DU C?T? DE CHEZ TODD Although Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little
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shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther."<|quote|>"All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."</|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with
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A Handful Of Dust
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They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.
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No speaker
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some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."
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I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's
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too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd
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You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the
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bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night.
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who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days
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Mr Todd had lived in Amazonas for nearly six years, no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring
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canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here."<|quote|>They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.</|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Lie there in the hammock."
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Mr Todd
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at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's
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They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."
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ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room
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care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would
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colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock
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won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium;
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no one except a few families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof
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cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house.<|quote|>"Lie there in the hammock."</|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long
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A Handful Of Dust
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"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."
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Tony Last
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"Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for
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at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you.
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you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under
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round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you
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as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know
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by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when
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families of Pie-wie Indians was aware of his existence. His house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each,
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your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock."<|quote|>"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."</|quote|>"I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I will get something for you."
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Mr Todd
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in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just
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"That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast,
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you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was
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"That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you
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grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that
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she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever
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house stood in a small savannah, one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired
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savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver."<|quote|>"I will get something for you."</|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."
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Tony Last
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will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the
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love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house
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the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright
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It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and
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a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest,
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mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's
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one of those little patches of sand and grass that crop up occasionally in that neighbourhood, three miles or so across, bounded on all sides by forest. The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony
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gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you."<|quote|>"Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."</|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood
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A Handful Of Dust
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Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.
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No speaker
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will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and
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Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite
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the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will
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you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take
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have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's
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her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants
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The stream which watered it was not marked on any map; it ran through rapids, always dangerous and at most seasons of the year impassable, to join the upper waters of the river where Dr Messinger had come to grief. None of the inhabitants of the district, except Mr Todd, had ever heard of the governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will
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first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..."<|quote|>Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.</|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of
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A Handful Of Dust
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"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."
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Tony Last
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astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand
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his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held
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back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face
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the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was
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Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to
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house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose
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governments of Brazil or Dutch Guiana, both of which from time to time claimed its possession. Mr Todd's house was larger than those of his neighbours, but similar in character--a palm thatch roof, breast-high walls of mud and wattle, and a mud floor. He owned the dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango trees, a dog and, unique in the neighbourhood, a single-barrelled, breech-loading shot-gun. The few commodities which he employed from the outside world came to him through a long succession of traders, passed from hand to hand, bartered for in a dozen languages at the extreme end of one of the longest threads in the web of commerce that spreads from Man?os into the remote fastness of the forest. One day while Mr Todd was engaged in filling some cartridges, a Pie-wie came to him with the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated. The man was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been
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Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily.<|quote|>"...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."</|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but
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A Handful Of Dust
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Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.
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No speaker
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Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and
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be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd
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the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the
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quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever
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bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes,
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rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better.
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was already clear of the bush when Mr Todd reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped
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across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..."<|quote|>Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.</|quote|>"Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Nasty medicine,"
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Tony Last
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and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to
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in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by
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a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor.
|
is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less
|
instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate
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It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five
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or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest
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John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head.<|quote|>"Nasty medicine,"</|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I
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A Handful Of Dust
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he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.
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No speaker
|
away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony,
|
calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."
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each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time
|
reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I
|
walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason
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lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that
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and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen; every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium but stopped when Todd approached and addressed him in English. "You're the first person who's spoken to me for days," said Tony. "The others won't stop. They keep bicycling by... I'm tired... Brenda was with me at first but she was frightened by a mechanical mouse, so she took the canoe and went off. She said she would come back that evening but she didn't. I expect she's staying with one of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said
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addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine,"<|quote|>he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.</|quote|>"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used
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A Handful Of Dust
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"It's very nasty,"
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Tony Last
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him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does
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comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine
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At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives.
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shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know.
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forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I
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her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the
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of her new friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they
|
good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies.<|quote|>"It's very nasty,"</|quote|>said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
said Tony,
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No speaker
|
herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good."
|
Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything
|
of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are
|
the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say
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is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the
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went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr
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friends in Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well
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talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty,"<|quote|>said Tony,</|quote|>"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"but it does do good."
|
Tony Last
|
"It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything
|
him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr
|
alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and
|
Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to
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There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to
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the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a
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Brazil... You haven't seen her, have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh,
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fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony,<|quote|>"but it does do good."</|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away
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A Handful Of Dust
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"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"
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Mr Todd
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"but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make
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"It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make
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temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send
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until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have
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Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years
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house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show
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have you?" "You are the first stranger I have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start
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I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good."<|quote|>"There is medicine for everything in the forest,"</|quote|>said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Mr Todd;
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No speaker
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for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and
|
do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My
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most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to
|
out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink,
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converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died.
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a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black
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have seen for a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time
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Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest,"<|quote|>said Mr Todd;</|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."
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Mr Todd
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the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?"
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is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a
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days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have
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on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can
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flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd
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skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave.
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a very long time." "She was wearing a top hat when she left. You can't miss her." Then he began talking to someone at Mr Todd's side, who was not there. "Do you see that house over there? Do you think you can manage to walk to it? If not, I can send some Indians to carry you." Tony squinted across the savannah at Mr Todd's hut. "Architecture harmonizing with local character," he said, "indigenous material employed throughout. Don't let Mrs Beaver see it or she will cover it with chromium plating." "Try and walk." Mr Todd hoisted Tony to his feet and supported him with a stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout
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Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd;<|quote|>"to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."</|quote|>"But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking
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A Handful Of Dust
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"But surely you are English?"
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Tony Last
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have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a
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begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana
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that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the
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you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."
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back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash.
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hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large
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stout arm. "I'll ride your bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following
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the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done."<|quote|>"But surely you are English?"</|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"
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Mr Todd
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"But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is
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have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so
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out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was
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an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding
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quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound
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will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over.
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bicycle. It _was_ you I passed just now on a bicycle, wasn't it?... except that your beard is a different colour. His was green... green as mice." Mr Todd led Tony across the hummocks of grass towards the house. "It is a very short way. When we get there I will give you something to make you better." "Very kind of you... rotten thing for a man to have his wife go away in a canoe. That was a long time ago. Nothing to eat since." Presently he said, "I say, you're English. I'm English too. My name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint
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by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?"<|quote|>"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"</|quote|>"Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, of course."
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Tony Last
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of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who
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died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."
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Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least
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you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash.
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My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango
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bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a
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name is Last." "Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the
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quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?"<|quote|>"Yes, of course."</|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."
|
Mr Todd
|
you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I
|
a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity
|
men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown.
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"My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little
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an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died,
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for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf
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"Well, Mr Last, you aren't to bother about anything more. You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?"
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of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course."<|quote|>"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."</|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking
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A Handful Of Dust
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Tony laughed apologetically.
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No speaker
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is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't
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"It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes,
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That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He
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as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his
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have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours,
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Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.
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You're ill and you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly
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I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot."<|quote|>Tony laughed apologetically.</|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to
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A Handful Of Dust
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"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."
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Tony Last
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I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just
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everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_
|
they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until
|
He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up
|
from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think
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the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the
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you've had a rough journey. I'll take care of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages
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"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically.<|quote|>"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."</|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."
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Mr Todd
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you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."
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laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to
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the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly
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he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.
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are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That
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behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You
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of you." Tony looked round him. "Are you all English?" "Yes, all of us." "That dark girl married a Moor... It's very lucky I met you all. I suppose you're some kind of cycling club?" "Yes." "Well, I feel too tired for bicycling... never liked it much... you fellows ought to get motor bicycles, you know, much faster and noisier... Let's stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough
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alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here."<|quote|>"Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."</|quote|>"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I shall be delighted to."
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Tony Last
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me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to
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died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding
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books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without
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not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the
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after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the
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then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only
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stop here." "No, you must come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony
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rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better."<|quote|>"I shall be delighted to."</|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, you shall read to me,"
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Mr Todd
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"I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over
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me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early
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when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep
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died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading
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stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the
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dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My
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come as far as the house. It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much
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love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to."<|quote|>"Yes, you shall read to me,"</|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture
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A Handful Of Dust
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Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.
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No speaker
|
you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the
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shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said,
|
years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your
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education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That
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it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd
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Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is
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It's not very much farther." "All right... I suppose you would have some difficulty getting petrol here." They went very slowly, but at length reached the house. "Lie there in the hammock." "That's what Messinger said. He's in love with John Beaver." "I will get something for you." "Very good of you. Just my usual morning tray--coffee, toast, fruit. And the morning papers. If her Ladyship has been called I will have it with her..." Mr Todd went into the back room of the house and dragged a tin canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty
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suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me,"<|quote|>Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.</|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I will show you the black man's grave,"
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Mr Todd
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little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to
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Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango
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twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"
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"I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a
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not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at
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in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think
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canister from under a heap of skins. It was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to
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the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm.<|quote|>"I will show you the black man's grave,"</|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the
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A Handful Of Dust
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he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.
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No speaker
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you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every
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the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for
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retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I
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read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave
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a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap
|
you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the
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was full of a mixture of dried leaf and bark. He took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He
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an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave,"<|quote|>he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.</|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the
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A Handful Of Dust
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"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"
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Mr Todd
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mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never
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said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."
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wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a
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the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."
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is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He
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Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day,
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took a handful and went outside to the fire. When he returned his guest was bolt upright astride the hammock, talking angrily. "...You would hear better and it would be more polite if you stood still when I addressed you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through
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the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees.<|quote|>"He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"</|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."
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Tony Last
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Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it
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and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I
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he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large
|
retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind
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better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book.
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snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was
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you instead of walking round in a circle. It is for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read,
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you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?"<|quote|>"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."</|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading.
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."
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Mr Todd
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really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes,
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"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all
|
trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when
|
handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd
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a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take
|
out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while
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for your own good that I am telling you... I know you are friends of my wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able
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is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much."<|quote|>"I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."</|quote|>"I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I suppose so."
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Tony Last
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do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent
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_great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You
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read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed
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that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder
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to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are
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I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat
|
wife and that is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it
|
you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did."<|quote|>"I suppose so."</|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."
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Mr Todd
|
Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began
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I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece
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I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I
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the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr
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day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more.
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know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a
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is why you will not listen to me. But be careful. She will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself
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the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so."<|quote|>"Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."</|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now
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A Handful Of Dust
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That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,
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No speaker
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his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are
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it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the
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your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his
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farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But
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better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and
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life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her
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will say nothing cruel, she will not raise her voice, there will be no hard words. She hopes you will be great friends afterwards as before. But she will leave you. She will go away quietly during the night. She will take her hammock and her rations of farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd,
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well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see."<|quote|>That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,</|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."
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Mr Todd
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without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the
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six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind
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will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at
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death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He
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The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many
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gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions;
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farine... Listen to me. I know I am not clever but that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting
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so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said,<|quote|>"Now I think you are well enough to see the books."</|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she
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A Handful Of Dust
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At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.
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No speaker
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enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to
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I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and
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headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter
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"I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several
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retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first
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but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly
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that is no reason why we should forget all courtesy. Let us kill in the gentlest manner. I will tell you what I have learned in the forest, where time is different. There is no City. Mrs Beaver has covered it with chromium plating and converted it into flats. Three guineas a week, each with a separate bathroom. Very suitable for base love. And Polly will be there. She and Mrs Beaver under the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness
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"but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books."<|quote|>At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.</|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."
|
Mr Todd
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palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel
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there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound
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roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I
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At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so
|
he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one
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"But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later
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the fallen battlements..." Mr Todd put a hand behind Tony's head and held up the concoction of herbs in the calabash. Tony sipped and turned away his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have
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after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide.<|quote|>"It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."</|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or
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A Handful Of Dust
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He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.
|
No speaker
|
Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which
|
there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are
|
at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have
|
books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to
|
God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew,
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are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His
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his head. "Nasty medicine," he said, and began to cry. Mr Todd stood by him holding the calabash. Presently Tony drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black
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for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful."<|quote|>He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.</|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them
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A Handful Of Dust
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"It does not matter which we take first."
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Mr Todd
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American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"
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book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More
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leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but
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the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said
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I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the
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Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I
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drank some more, screwing up his face and shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it
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mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_.<|quote|>"It does not matter which we take first."</|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By
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A Handful Of Dust
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"You are fond of Dickens?"
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Tony Last
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matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More
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_Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You
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to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there
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a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well
|
suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery
|
me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a
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shuddering slightly at the bitterness. Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he
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have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first."<|quote|>"You are fond of Dickens?"</|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."
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Mr Todd
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"You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they
|
matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my
|
and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He
|
mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter,
|
is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions
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died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will
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Mr Todd stood beside him until the draught was finished; then he threw out the dregs on to the mud floor. Tony lay back in the hammock sobbing quietly. Soon he fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * Tony's recovery was slow. At first, days of lucidity alternated with delirium; then his temperature dropped and he was conscious even when most ill. The days of fever grew less frequent, finally occurring in the normal system of the tropics, between long periods of comparative health. Mr Todd dosed him regularly with herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to
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after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?"<|quote|>"Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."</|quote|>"Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Well,"
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Tony Last
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them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will
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a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."
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now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had
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take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while
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Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of
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time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all
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herbal remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make
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the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years."<|quote|>"Well,"</|quote|>said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Tony lightly,
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No speaker
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all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out
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long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope
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but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed
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first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat
|
propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though
|
that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well."
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remedies. "It's very nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make preparations to go."
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enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well,"<|quote|>said Tony lightly,</|quote|>"they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate,
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"they will well last out my visit."
|
Tony Last
|
years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It
|
read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again.
|
get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year
|
fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper.
|
against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not
|
the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in
|
nasty," said Tony, "but it does do good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make preparations to go." "Oh, that is impossible. The Indians will
|
so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly,<|quote|>"they will well last out my visit."</|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."
|
Mr Todd
|
well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first
|
said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and
|
be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked
|
More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his
|
unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint
|
a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough
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good." "There is medicine for everything in the forest," said Mr Todd; "to make you well and to make you ill. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make preparations to go." "Oh, that is impossible. The Indians will not make a boat during the rainy season--it is one of their superstitions." "You might have told me." "Did I not
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since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit."<|quote|>"Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."</|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at
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A Handful Of Dust
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They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,
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No speaker
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more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have
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time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes,
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except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of
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them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the
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There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than
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between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried
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My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. I have learned others from time to time from my wives. There are plants to cure you and give you fever, to kill you and send you mad, to keep away snakes, to intoxicate fish so that you can pick them out of the water with your hands like fruit from a tree. There are medicines even I do not know. They say that it is possible to bring dead people to life after they have begun to stink, but I have not seen it done." "But surely you are English?" "My father was--at least a Barbadian. He came to Guiana as a missionary. He was married to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make preparations to go." "Oh, that is impossible. The Indians will not make a boat during the rainy season--it is one of their superstitions." "You might have told me." "Did I not mention it? I forgot." Next morning Tony went out alone while his host was busy, and, looking as aimless as he could, strolled across the savannah to the group of Indian houses. There were four or five Pie-wies sitting in one of the doorways. They did not look up as he approached them. He addressed them in the few words of Macushi he had acquired during the journey but they made no sign whether they understood him or not. Then he drew a sketch of a canoe in the sand, he went through some vague motions of carpentry, pointed from them to him, then made motions of giving something to them and scratched out the outlines of a gun
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hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire."<|quote|>They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,</|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him," or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"
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Mr Todd
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was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember
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Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor
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the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been
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always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did
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but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better.
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Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed
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to a white woman but he left her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make preparations to go." "Oh, that is impossible. The Indians will not make a boat during the rainy season--it is one of their superstitions." "You might have told me." "Did I not mention it? I forgot." Next morning Tony went out alone while his host was busy, and, looking as aimless as he could, strolled across the savannah to the group of Indian houses. There were four or five Pie-wies sitting in one of the doorways. They did not look up as he approached them. He addressed them in the few words of Macushi he had acquired during the journey but they made no sign whether they understood him or not. Then he drew a sketch of a canoe in the sand, he went through some vague motions of carpentry, pointed from them to him, then made motions of giving something to them and scratched out the outlines of a gun and a hat and a few other
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suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say,<|quote|>"Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"</|quote|>or "Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He
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A Handful Of Dust
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or
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No speaker
|
name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her
|
he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman."
|
eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible,
|
the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not
|
always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It
|
nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the
|
her in Guiana to look for gold. Then he took my mother. The Pie-wie women are ugly but very devoted. I have had many. Most of the men and women living in this savannah are my children. That is why they obey--for that reason and because I have the gun. My father lived to a great age. It is not twenty years since he died. He was a man of education. Can you read?" "Yes, of course." "It is not everyone who is so fortunate. I cannot." Tony laughed apologetically. "But I suppose you haven't much opportunity here." "Oh yes, that is just it. I have a _great_ many books. I will show you when you are better. Until five years ago there was an Englishman--at least a black man, but he was well educated in Georgetown. He died. He used to read to me every day until he died. You shall read to me when you are better." "I shall be delighted to." "Yes, you shall read to me," Mr Todd repeated, nodding over the calabash. During the early days of his convalescence Tony had little conversation with his host, he lay in the hammock staring up at the thatched roof and thinking about Brenda. The days, exactly twelve hours each, passed without distinction. Mr Todd retired to sleep at sundown, leaving a little lamp burning--a handwoven wick drooping from a pot of beef fat--to keep away vampire bats. The first time that Tony left the house Mr Todd took him for a little stroll around the farm. "I will show you the black man's grave," he said, leading him to a mound between the mango trees. "He was very kind. Every afternoon until he died, for two hours, he used to read to me. I think I will put up a cross--to commemorate his death and your arrival--a pretty idea. Do you believe in God?" "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it much." "I have thought about it a _great_ deal and I still do not know... Dickens did." "I suppose so." "Oh yes, it is apparent in all his books. You will see." That afternoon Mr Todd began the construction of a headpiece for the Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really must be thinking of getting back..." "Yes," said Mr Todd. "The black man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died here..." Twice during the next day Tony opened the subject, but his host was evasive. Finally, he said, "Forgive me, Mr Todd, but I really must press the point. When can I get a boat?" "There is no boat." "Well, the Indians can build one." "You must wait for the rains. There is not enough water in the river now." "How long will that be?" "A month... two months..." They had finished _Bleak House_ and were nearing the end of _Dombey and Son_ when the rain came. "Now it is time to make preparations to go." "Oh, that is impossible. The Indians will not make a boat during the rainy season--it is one of their superstitions." "You might have told me." "Did I not mention it? I forgot." Next morning Tony went out alone while his host was busy, and, looking as aimless as he could, strolled across the savannah to the group of Indian houses. There were four or five Pie-wies sitting in one of the doorways. They did not look up as he approached them. He addressed them in the few words of Macushi he had acquired during the journey but they made no sign whether they understood him or not. Then he drew a sketch of a canoe in the sand, he went through some vague motions of carpentry, pointed from them to him, then made motions of giving something to them and scratched out the outlines of a gun and a hat and a few other recognizable
|
Negro's grave. He worked with a large spoke-shave in a wood so hard that it grated and rang like metal. At last, when Tony had passed six or seven consecutive nights without fever, Mr Todd said, "Now I think you are well enough to see the books." At one end of the hut there was a kind of loft formed by a rough platform erected in the eaves of the roof. Mr Todd propped a ladder against it and mounted. Tony followed, still unsteady after his illness. Mr Todd sat on the platform and Tony stood at the top of the ladder looking over. There was a heap of bundles there, tied up with rag, palm leaf and raw hide. "It has been hard to keep out the worms and ants. Two are practically destroyed. But there is an oil the Indians make that is useful." He unwrapped the nearest parcel and handed down a calf-bound book. It was an early American edition of _Bleak House_. "It does not matter which we take first." "You are fond of Dickens?" "Why, yes, of course. More than fond, far more. You see, they are the only books I have ever heard. My father used to read them and then later the black man... and now you. I have heard them all several times by now but I never get tired; there is always more to be learned and noticed, so many characters, so many changes of scene, so many words... I have all Dickens's books here except those that the ants devoured. It takes a long time to read them all--more than two years." "Well," said Tony lightly, "they will well last out my visit." "Oh, I hope not. It is delightful to start again. Each time I think I find more to enjoy and admire." They took down the first volume of _Bleak House_ and that afternoon Tony had his first reading. He had always rather enjoyed reading aloud and in the first year of marriage had shared several books in this way with Brenda, until one day, in a moment of frankness, she remarked that it was torture to her. He had read to John Andrew, late in the afternoon, in winter, while the child sat before the nursery fender eating his supper. But Mr Todd was a unique audience. The old man sat astride his hammock opposite Tony, fixing him throughout with his eyes, and following the words, soundlessly, with his lips. Often when a new character was introduced he would say, "Repeat the name, I have forgotten him,"<|quote|>or</|quote|>"Yes, yes, I remember her well. She dies, poor woman." He would frequently interrupt with questions; not as Tony would have imagined about the circumstances of the story--such things as the procedure of the Lord Chancellor's Court or the social conventions of the time, though they must have been unintelligible, did not concern him--but always about the characters. "Now, why does she say that? Does she really mean it? Did she feel faint because of the heat of the fire or of something in that paper?" He laughed loudly at all the jokes and at some passages which did not seem humorous to Tony, asking him to repeat them two or three times, and later at the description of the sufferings of the outcasts in "Tom-all-alone's" tears ran down his cheeks into his beard. His comments on the story were usually simple. "I think the Dedlock is a very proud man," or, "Mrs Jellyby does not take enough care of her children." Tony enjoyed the readings almost as much as he did. At the end of the first day the old man said, "You read beautifully, with a far better accent than the black man. And you explain better. It is almost as though my father were here again." And always at the end of a session he thanked his guest courteously. "I enjoyed that _very_ much. It was an extremely distressing chapter. But, if I remember it rightly, it will all turn out well." By the time that they were in the second volume, however, the novelty of the old man's delight had begun to wane, and Tony was feeling strong enough to be restless. He touched more than once on the subject of his departure, asking about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. But Mr Todd seemed obtuse and paid no attention to these hints. One day, running his thumb through the pages of _Bleak House_ that remained to be read, Tony said, "We still have a lot to get through. I hope I shall be able to finish it before I go." "Oh yes," said Mr Todd. "Do not disturb yourself about that. You will have time to finish it, my friend." For the first time Tony noticed something slightly menacing in his host's manner. That evening at supper, a brief meal of farine and dried beef, eaten just before sundown, Tony renewed the subject. "You know, Mr Todd, the time has come when I must be thinking about getting back to civilization. I have already imposed myself on your hospitality far too long." Mr Todd bent over the plate, crunching mouthfuls of farine, but made no reply. "How soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat?... I said, how soon do you think I shall be able to get a boat? I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say, but..." "My friend, any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Do not let us mention the subject again." "Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed it. I have, too. But I really
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A Handful Of Dust
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