I Want a Party! (Little Princess eBooks Book 14)

Soon after this, I received a notice directing me to present myself at the cavalry barracks, to be examined in equitation. If I failed in the test, I could not enter a cavalry regiment as a one-year Volontaire. I passed all right, of course, and, a little later, received my feuille de route and notification that I was posted to the Blue Hussars and was to proceed forthwith to their barracks at St. Denis, and report myself. I had spent the interval, partly with my mother and her people, the Carys; and partly in Paris with a Lieutenant de Lannec, appointed my guide, philosopher and friend by my uncle, under whom de Lannec was then working at the War Office.

To this gentleman I was indebted for much good advice and innumerable hints and tips that proved invaluable. To de Lannec I owed it that if in my raw-recruit days I was a fool, I was not a sanguinary fool; and that I escaped most of the pit-falls digged for the feet of the unwary by those who had themselves only become wary by painful experience therein. Thanks to him, I also knew enough to engage permanently a private room for myself at a hotel in St. Denis, where I could have meals and a bath; to have my cavalry boots and uniform privately made for me; and to equip myself with a spare complete outfit of all those articles of clothing and of use, the loss or lack of which brings the private soldier to so much trouble and punishment.

And one fine morning I presented myself at the great gates of the barracks of the famous Blue Hussars, trying to look happier than I felt. I beheld an enormous parade ground, about a quarter of a mile square, with the Riding School in the middle of it, and beyond it a huge barracks for men and horses. The horses occupied the ground-floor and the men the floors above--not a nice arrangement I thought. I continued to think it, when I lived just above the horses, in a room that held a hundred and twenty unwashed men, a hundred and twenty pairs of stable-boots, a hundred and twenty pairs of never-cleaned blankets--and windows that had been kept shut for a hundred and twenty years, to exclude the exhalations from the stable because more than enough came up through the floor.

I passed through the gates, and a Sergeant came out from the Guard-Room, which was just beside them. And I don't like you. I don't like your face, nor your voice, nor your clothes, nor anything about you. Mindful of de Lannec's advice, I held my tongue. It is the one thing of his own that the soldier may hold.

But a good Sergeant is not to be defeated. Get out of this--go on--before I. Wait till you're in uniform--and I'll show you the inside of a little stone box I know of. That'll teach you to contradict Sergeants. I'll deal with you when you come back. Name of an Anointed Poodle, I will!

I believe that, for the fraction of a second, I was tempted to seek the train for Calais and England, instead of the Street of the Abandoned Children and the Office of the Paymaster. Alas, I knew not; but feeling something of a poor Abandoned Child myself, I decided that it was the latter. Expecting otherwise, I found the non-commissioned officer who was the Paymaster's Clerk, a courteous person.

He asked me which Squadron I would like to join, and I replied that I should like to join any Squadron to which the present Sergeant of the Guard did not belong. I described the Sergeant as a ruffianly brute with a bristly moustache, bristly eyebrows, bristly hair, and bristly manners. A bullying blackguard in fact. Did he swear by the name of an Anointed Poodle, by any chance? I'll put you down for the Second.

Take this paper and ask for the Sergeant-Major of the Second Squadron. And don't forget that if you can stand well with the S. I'd have had you put in my own peloton. I have a way with aristocrats and Volontaires, and macquereaux. I followed the trooper, a tall fair Norman, across the great parade-ground, now alive with men in stable-kit, carrying brooms or buckets, wheeling barrows, leading horses, pumping water into great drinking-troughs, and generally fulfilling the law of their being, as cavalrymen.

I don't know why you ever left it. A dog that never barked, but bit hard, Sergeant-Major Martin was a cold stern man, forceful and fierce, but in manner quiet, distant, and almost polite. One does not like them, but such things must be. He took my papers, asked me questions, and recorded the answers in the livret or regimental-book, which every French soldier must cherish. He then bade the trooper conduct me to Sergeant de Poncey with the bad news that I was to be in his peloton. Sergeant de Poncey was discovered in the exercise of his duty, giving painful sword-drill to a punishment-squad, outside the Riding School.

He was a handsome man who looked as though life held nothing for him but pain. His voice was that of an educated man. They had cause, since they had spent the night in prison, had had no breakfast, and were undergoing a kind of torture. The Sergeant would give an order, the squad would obey it, and there the matter would rest--until some poor devil, sick and half-starved, would be unable to keep his arm, and heavy sword, extended any longer.

At the first quiver and sinking down of the blade, the monotonous voice would announce:. When the squad had been marched back to prison, Sergeant de Poncey attended to me. He looked me over from head to foot. I was one myself, once. Come with me," and he led the way to the quartiers of the Second Squadron, and the part of the room in which his peloton slept.

Two partitions, some eight feet in height, divided the room into three, and along partitions and walls were rows of beds. Each bed was so narrow that there was no discomfort in eating one's meals as one sat astride the bed, as though seated on a horse, with a basin of soupe before one. It was thus that, for a year, I took all meals that I did not have at my hotel. At the head of each bed hung a cavalry-sword and bag of stable-brushes and cleaning-kit; while above each were a couple of shelves bearing folded uniforms covered with a canvas bag on which was painted their owner's matricule number.

Crowning each edifice was a shako and two pairs of boots. Cavalry carbines stood in racks in the corners of the room. As I stared round, the Sergeant put his hand on my arm. I liked this Sergeant de Poncey from the first. As I told you, I was a gentleman once; and now I am going to ask you to lend me twenty francs, for I am in serious trouble.

And a good friend Sergeant de Poncey proved, and particularly valuable after he became Sergeant-Major; for though a Sergeant-Major may not have power to permit certain doings, he has complete power to prevent Higher Authority from knowing that they have been done. A Corporal entering the room at that minute, Sergeant de Poncey called him and handed me over to him with the words:. A Volontaire --but a good fellow. Old friend of mine. He had good eyesight; for the moment Sergeant de Poncey was out of earshot, he added:. Cheaply and greasily handsome, the swarthy Corporal Lepage was a very wicked little man indeed, but likeable, by reason of an unfailing sense of humour and a paradoxical trustworthiness.

He had every vice and would do any evil thing--except betray a trust or fail a friend. Half educated, he was a clerk by profession, and an ornament of the city of Paris. Small, dissipated and drunken, he yet had remarkable strength and agility, and was never ill. In the canteen he drank neat cognac at my expense, and frankly said that his goodwill and kind offices could be purchased for ten francs. I purchased them, and, having pouched the gold piece and swallowed his seventh cognac, the worthy man inquired whether I intended to jabber there the entire day, or go to the medical inspection to which he was endeavouring to conduct me.

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Snipe, unless you obey my orders and cease this taverning, chambering and wantonness," replied the good Lepage. Pulling himself together, Corporal Lepage marched me from the canteen to the dispensary near by. And promising the Orderly that I would give him a cognac if he came and called the Corporal from the canteen as soon as the Surgeon-Major returned, he led the way back.

In the end, I left Corporal Lepage drunk in the canteen, passed the medical examination, and made myself a friend for life by returning and getting the uplifted warrior safely back to the barrack-room and bed. I shall never forget being tailored by the Sergent-Fourrier that afternoon. Here I was given a pair of red trousers to try on--"for size. They were not riding-breeches, but huge trousers, the legs being each as big round as my waist.

As in the case of an axiom of Euclid, no demonstration was needed, but since the Sergeant-Tailor bade me get into them--I got. When the heavy leather ends of them rested on the ground, the top cut me under the arm-pits. The top of that inch-thick, red felt garment, hard and stiff as a board, literally cut me. I flapped my wings at the Sergeant-Tailor. That there was room for him, as well, did not seem to be of importance. The difficulty now was to move, as the trousers seemed to be like jointless armour, but I struggled across the store to where sat the Sergeant-Bootmaker, with an entire range of boots of all sizes awaiting me.

The "entire range" consisted of four pairs, and of these the smallest was two inches too long, but would not permit the passage of my instep. They were curious leather buildings, these alleged boots. They were as wide as they were long, were perfectly square at both ends, had a leg a foot high, heels two and a half inches thick, and great rusty spurs nailed on to them. The idea was to put them on under the trousers. The likes of you are a curse and an undeserved punishment to good Sergeants, you orphaned Misfortune of God.

Put on the biggest pair.

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As all I had to do was to get from the barracks to my hotel, where I had everything awaiting me, it did not so much matter. But what of the poor devil who had to accept such things without alternative? When I was standing precariously balanced inside these boots and garments, the Sergent-Fourrier gave me a Hussar shako which my ears insecurely supported; wound a blue scarf round my neck, inside the collar of the tunic, and bade me go and show myself to the Captain of the Week--who was incidentally Capitaine en Second of my Squadron.

Dressed as I was, I would not willingly have shown myself to a mule, lest the poor animal laugh itself into a state of dangerous hysteria. Walking as a diver walks along the deck of a ship, I plunged heavily forward, lifting and dropping a huge boot, that hung at the end of a huge trouser-leg, at each step. It was more like the progression of a hobbled clown-elephant over the tan of a circus, than the marching of a smart Hussar. I felt very foolish, humiliated and angry. Guided by a storeroom Orderly, I eventually reached the door of the Captain's office, and burst upon his sight.

He eyed me as one does a horse offered for sale. He was of the younger school--smart, cool and efficient; a handsome, spare man, pink and white above a shaven blueness. In manner he was of a suavely sinister politeness that thinly covered real cruelty. I felt I was a natural fool, to be there in those, or in any other, trousers. Each is big enough to contain both your feet.

Are you an un natural fool to come before me in such boots? I felt I was an unnatural fool, to be there in those, or in any other, boots. You may tell the Sergent-Fourrier that he will shortly hear something to his disadvantage. It will interest him in you. It interested all the denizens of that horrible storeroom, that stank of stale leather, stale fustian, stale brass, and stale people.

I would bring reprimands and punishments upon senior Sergeants, would I? Let me but wait until I was in their hands. A little later, I was sent back to the Captain's room, in the identical clothes that I had worn on the first visit. My trousers were braced to my chin, the leather ends of the legs were pulled further forward over the boots, a piece of cloth was folded and pushed up the back of my tunic, my sleeves were pulled back, and a fold or tuck of the cloth was made inside each elbow.

A crushed-up ball of brown paper relieved my ears of some of the weight of my shako. Are you really determined to annoy me, recruit? Kindly return and inform the Sergent-Fourrier that I will interview him later. Pending that time, the Sergent-Fourrier and his myrmidons interviewed me. They also sent me back in precisely the same garments; this time with trousers braced only to my breast and with the sleeves of my tunic as they had been at first. My Captain was not in his room, and I promptly returned and told the truth--that he had found no fault in me this time.

With this on my back, and looking like Bunyan's Christian and feeling like no kind of Christian, I staggered to my room. Here, Corporal Lepage, in a discourse punctuated with brandified hiccups, informed me that I must mark each article with my matricule number, using for that purpose stencils supplied by the Sergent-Fourrier.

Feeling that more than stencils would be supplied by that choleric and unsocial person, if I again encountered him ere the sun had gone down upon his wrath, I bethought me of certain advice given me in Paris by my friend de Lannec--and cast about for one in search of lucrative employment. Seated on the next bed to mine, and polishing his sword, was a likely-looking lad. He had a strong and pleasing face, calm and thoughtful in expression, and with a nice fresh air of countrified health. I am badly broke, and I am also in peculiar and particular need to square Corporal Lepage.

I found that his name was Dufour, that he was the son of a horse-dealer, and had had to do with both horses and gentlemen to a considerable extent. From that hour he became my friend and servant, to the day when he gave his life for France and for me, nearly twenty years later. He was very clever, honest and extremely brave; a faithful, loyal, noble soul. I engaged him then and there; and his first job in my service was to get my kit stencilled, cleaned and arranged en paquetage on the shelves. He then helped me to make myself as presentable as was possible in the appalling uniform that had been issued to me, for I had to pass the Guard and in full dress, as it was now noon in order to get out to my hotel where my other uniforms, well cut by my own tailor, were awaiting me, together with boots of regulation pattern, made for me in Paris.

To this day I do not know how I managed to waddle past the Sergeant of the Guard, my sword held in a gloved hand that felt as though cased in cast iron, my big shako wobbling on my head, and the clumsy spurs of my vast and uncontrollable boots catching in the leather ends of my vaster trousers. I did it however, with Dufour's help; and, a few minutes later, was in my own private room and tearing the vile things from my outraged person.

As I sat over my coffee, at a quarter to nine that evening, after a tolerable dinner and a bottle of Mouton Rothschild, dreaming great dreams, I was brought back to hard facts by the sudden sound of the trumpeters of the Blue Hussars playing the retraite in the Place. That meant that, within a quarter of an hour, they would march thence back to Barracks, blowing their instant summons to all soldiers who had not a late pass--and that I must hurry.

My return journey was a very different one from my last, for my uniform, boots, and shako fitted me perfectly; my gauntlets enabled me to carry my sword easily " in left hand; hilt turned downwards and six inches behind hip; tip of scabbard in front of left foot ," etc. Once more I felt like a man and almost like a soldier. My spirits rose nearly to the old Eton level.

They sank to the new Barrack level, however, when I entered the room in which I was to live for a year, and its terrific and terrible stench took me by the throat. As I stood at the foot of my bed, as everybody else did, awaiting the evening roll-call, I began to think I should be violently unwell; and by the time the Sergeant of the Week had made his round and received the Corporal's report as to absentees stables, guard, leave, etc.

I was feeling certain that I must publicly disgrace myself. However, I am a good sailor, and when the roll-call which has no "calling" whatever was finished, and all were free to do as they liked until ten o'clock, when the " Lights out " trumpet would be blown, I fled to the outer air, and saved my honour and my dinner. I had to return, of course, but not to stand to attention like a statue while my head swam; and I soon found that I could support life with the help of a handkerchief which I had had the fore-thought to perfume. While I was sitting on my bed which consisted of two trestles supporting two narrow planks, and a sausage-like roll of straw-mattress and blankets, the whole being only two feet six inches wide , gazing blankly around upon the specimen of my fellow-man in bulk, and wondering if and when and where he washed, I was aware of a party approaching me, headed by the fair trooper who had been my guide to the office of the Squadron Sergeant-Major that morning.

It is dangerous too. Tried to throw me into the muck-heap when I wasn't looking. It uses a scented handkerchief so as not to smell us. Why should he smell us? He and the fat man were pushed aside by a typical hard-case fighting-man, such as one sees in boxing-booths, fencing-schools and gymnasia. I am the champion swordsman of the Regiment, and I say that such insults can only be washed out in.

I should think that the whole of my peloton three escouades of ten men each was present by the time we reached the bar, and it was there quickly enriched by the presence of the rest of the Squadron. However, brandy was only a shilling a quart, and red wine fourpence, so it was no very serious matter to entertain these good fellows, nor was there any fear that their capacity to pour in would exceed mine to pay out. But, upon my word, I think the combined smells of the canteen--rank tobacco-smoke, garlic, spirits, cooking, frying onions, wine, burning fat and packed humanity--were worse than those of the barrack-room; and it was borne in upon me that not only must the soldier's heart be in the right place, but his stomach also.

The " Lights out " trumpet saved me from death in the canteen, and I returned to die in the barrack-room, if I must. Apparently I returned a highly popular person, for none of the usual tricks was played upon me, such as the jerking away by means of a rope of one of the trestles supporting the bed, as soon as the recruit has forgotten his sorrows in sleep.

De Lannec had told me what to expect, and I had decided to submit to most of the inflictions with a good grace and cheerful spirit, while certain possible indignities I was determined to resist to the point of serious bloodshed. With Dufour's help, I inserted my person into the sausage precariously balanced on the planks, and fell asleep in spite of sharp-pointed straws, the impossibility of turning in my cocoon, the noisy illness of several gentlemen who had spent the evening unwisely, the stamping and chain-rattling of horses, the cavalry-trumpet snoring of a hundred cavalry noses, and the firm belief that I should in the morning be found dead from poisoning and asphyxiation.

I found myself quite alive, however, at five o'clock the next morning, when the Corporal of the Week passed through the room bawling, "Anyone sick here? I was about to reply that although I was not being sick at the moment, I feared I shortly should be, when I realized that the Corporal was collecting names for the Sergeant-Major's morning report, and not making polite inquiries as to how we were feeling after a night spent in the most mephitic atmosphere that human beings could possibly breathe, and live.

There is no morning roll-call in the Cavalry, but the Sergeant-Major gets the names of those who apply for medical attention, and removes them from the duty-list of each peloton. For half an hour I lay awake wondering what would happen if I sprang from my bed and opened a window--or broke a window if they were not made for opening.

Corporal Lepage came to me as I repressed my first yawn fearing to inhale the poison-gas unnecessarily and bade me endue my form with canvas and clogs, and hie me to the stables. Hastily I put on the garb of a gutter-scavenger and guided by Dufour, hurried through the rain to my pleasing task. In the stable was a different smell, but it was homogeneous and, on the whole, I preferred the smell of the horses to that of their riders.

You see, we clean the horses thoroughly, daily. In the Regulations it is so ordered. But as to the horsemen, it says, " A Corporal must sleep in the same room with the troopers of his escouade and must see that his troopers wash their heads, faces, hands and feet. Some one had to do it, and why not I? Doubtless the study of the art of separation of filthy straw from filthier straw, and the removal of manure, is part of a sound military training.

I looked round for implements. I believed that a pitchfork and shovel were the appropriate and provided tools for the craftsman in this line of business. D'you suppose you do it with your toe-nails, or the back of your neck? And it was so. With my lily-white hands I laboured well and truly, and loaded barrows until they were piled high. I took an artistic interest in my work, patting a shapely pyramid upon the barrow, until:. Have a hot coffee and cognac. I picked up a bucket and rushed forth across the barrack-square, trying to look like one fulfilling a high and honourable function.

If anybody stopped me, I would say I was going to get the Colonel a bucket of champagne for his bath. At the canteen I found a man following a new profession. He called himself a Saviour-from-Selfish-Sin, and explained to me that the basest thing a soldier could do was to faire Suisse, to drink alone. No one need drink alone when he was there, he said, and he gave up his valuable time and energy to frequenting the canteen at such hours as it might be empty, and a man might come and fall into sin.

I drank my coffee and cognac and then went outside, inhaled deeply for some minutes, and soon felt better. Catching up my bucket, I returned to the stables, trying to look like one who has, by prompt and determined effort, saved the Republic. Dufour finished our work and told me we must now return to the barrack-room in time to get our bags of grooming-implements before the trumpets sounded " Stables " at six o'clock.

It was loading those barrows with my bare hands that made me feel so sea-sick. But I doubted it. At six o'clock we returned to the stables, and the Lieutenant of the Week allotted me my horse and ordered me to set about grooming him. Now I have the horse-gift. I love and understand horses, and horses love and understand me.

I was not, therefore, depressed when the horse laid his ears back, showed me a white eye, and lashed out viciously as I approached the stall. It merely meant that the poor brute had been mishandled by a bigger brute, and that fear, instead of love, had been the motive appealed to. However, I had got to make friends with him before he could be friendly, and the first step was to enter his stall--a thing he seemed determined to prevent. I accordingly slipped into the next one, climbed over, and dropped down beside him. In a minute I was grooming him, talking to him, handling him, making much of him, and winning his confidence.

I swore to myself I would never touch him with whip nor spur: He was a well-bred beast, and I felt certain from his colour, socks, head, eye and general "feel" that he was not really vicious. I don't know how I know what a horse thinks and feels and is, but I do know it. I groomed him thoroughly for nearly an hour, and then fondled him and got him used to my voice, hands and smell.

I rather expected trouble when I took him to water, as Dufour had put his head round the partition and warned me that Le Boucher was a dangerous brute who had sent more than one man on a stretcher to hospital. At seven o'clock the order was given for the horses to be taken to the water-troughs, and I led Le Boucher out of his stall. Seizing a lock of his mane, I vaulted on to his bare back and prepared for trouble.

He reared until I thought he would fall; he put down his head and threw up his heels until I thought that I should; and then he bucked and bounded in a way that enabled me to give an exhibition of riding. But it was all half-hearted. I felt that he was going through the performance mechanically, and, at worst, finding out what sort of rider I was. After this brief period of protest he trotted off to the watering-tank, and I never again had the slightest trouble with Le Boucher.

I soon changed the stupid name of "The Butcher," to "Angelique," partly in tribute to one of the nicest of girls, and partly in recognition of the horse's real temper and disposition. After "Stables," I was sent to get the rest of my kit, and was endowed with carbine, saddle, sword-belt, cartridge-box and all sorts of straps and trappings. I found my saddle to be of English make and with a high straight back, behind which was strapped the cylindrical blue portmanteau, with the regimental crest at each end.

I also found that the bridle was of the English model, not the "9th Lancer" pattern, but with bit and snaffle so made that the head-stall remained on the horse when the bit-straps were taken off. It was ten o'clock by the time that I had received the whole of the kit for myself and horse, and that is the hour of breakfast.

Our trumpets sang " Soupe " and the bucket was lowered from the hand of the soldier who crossed the wide plain--of the barrack-square. Everybody rushed to put away whatever he held in his hand, and to join the throng that poured into the Regimental kitchen and out by another door, each man bearing a gamelle or saucepan-shaped tin pot , of soupe and a loaf of bread. Having washed my hands, without soap, at the horse-trough, I followed. Holding my own, I proceeded to my room, placed it on my bed, sat astride the bed with the gamelle before me, and fell to.

The meal finished, the Orderly of the Caporal d'Ordinaire collected the pots and took them back to the kitchen. My immediate desire now was a hot-and-cold-water lavatory and a good barber. It was the first day of my life that had found me, at eleven o'clock, unwashen and uncombed, to say nothing of unbathed. At the moment I wanted a shave more ardently than I wanted eternal salvation.

There is an old Sergeant-pensioner at the hospital, who remembers the day, before the Franco-Prussian War, when it was used as a lavatory, but no one else has ever seen anything in it but sacks of corn. In the summer, all have to go, once a fortnight, to the swimming-baths," was the interesting reply. You must not think we are dirty people.

After that operation, dubiously beneficial by reason of the probability of one's contracting tetanus or other sorrows as well as immunity from smallpox, I returned to my bright home to deal with the chaos of kit that adorned my bed-side; and with Dufour's help had it reduced to order and cleanliness by three in the afternoon, when " Stables " was again the pursuit in being.

After "Stables" we stood in solemn circles around our respective Caporaux-fourriers to hear the Regimental Orders of the Day read out, while Squadron Sergeant-Majors eyed everybody with profound suspicion and sure conviction of their state of sin. So far as I could make out, the Regimental Orders of that particular day consisted of a list of punishments inflicted upon all and sundry for every conceivable, and many an inconceivable, military offence , including the officers themselves--which surprised me.

When the joyous parade was finished, I was free, and having cleaned and beautified myself, I passed the Sergeant of the Guard in full-dress uniform, and sought mine inn for dinner, peace, and privacy. I settled into the routine of my new life very quickly, and it was not long before I felt it was as though I had known no other. At times I came near to desperation, but not so near as I should have come had it not been for my private room at the hotel, the fact that I did much of my work with other Volontaires in a special class, and the one great certainty, in a world of uncertainty, that there are only twelve months in a year.

It was some time before my days grew monotonous, and shortly after they had begun to do so, I contrived to brighten the tedium of life by pretending to kill a man, deliberately, in cold blood, and with cold steel. I fear I give the impression of being a bloodthirsty and murderous youth, and I contend that at the time I had good reason. Dufour came to me one night as I was undressing for bed, and asked me whether I would care to spend an interesting evening on the morrow. Upon inquiry it turned out that he had been approached by a certain Trooper Becque, a few days earlier, and invited to spend a jolly evening with him and some other good fellows.

Having accepted the invitation, Dufour found that Becque and the good fellows were a kind of club or society that met in a room above a little wine-shop in the Rue de Salm. Becque seemed to have plenty of money and plenty of ideas--of an interesting and curious kind. Gradually it dawned upon the intrigued Dufour that Becque was an "agent," a Man with a Message, a propagandist, and an agitator.

Apparently his object was to "agitate" the Regiment, and his Message was that Law and Order were invented by knaves for the enslavement of fools. Dufour, I gathered, had played the country bumpkin that he looked; had gathered all the wisdom and wine that he could get; and had replied to Becque's eloquence with no more than profound looks, profounder nods, and profoundest hiccups as the evening progressed; tongues were loosened, and, through a roseate, vinous glow, the good Becque was seen for the noble friend of poor troopers that he professed to be.

Guided by a proper love of sound political philosophy and sound free wine, Dufour had attended the next meeting of this brave brotherhood, and had so far fallen beneath the spell of Becque's eloquence as to cheer it to the echo, to embrace him warmly and then to collapse, very drunk, upon a bench; and to listen with both his ears. After his third or fourth visit, he had asked the good Becque if he might formally join his society, and bring a friend for whom he could vouch as one who would listen to Becque's sentiments with the deepest interest.

I would--though I feared that if Becque knew I was a Volontaire, it would be difficult to persuade him that I was promising anarchistic material. However, I could but try, and if I failed on my own account, I could still take what action I thought fit, on the word of Dufour. On the following evening, having arrayed myself in the uniform that had been issued to me by the Sergent-Fourrier when I joined, I accompanied Dufour to the rendezvous.

Becque I did not know, nor he me, and I received a hearty welcome. Watching the man, I decided that he was a half-educated "intelligent. I played the gullible brainless trooper and took stock of Becque and his gang. The latter consisted of three classes, I decided: First, the malcontent dregs of the Regiment--men with grievances, real or imaginary, of the kind known as "hard cases" and "King's hard bargains," in England; secondly, men who in private life were violent and dangerous "politicians"; and thirdly, men who would go anywhere, agree with anything, and applaud anybody--for a bottle of wine.

He was clearly a monomaniac whose whole mental content was hate --hate of France; hate of all who had what he had not; hate of control, discipline and government; hate of whatsoever and whomsoever did not meet with his approval. I put him down as one of those sane lunatics, afflicted with a destruction-complex; a diseased egoist, and a treacherous, dangerous mad dog.

Also a very clever man indeed, an eloquent, plausible and forceful personality. The perfect agent-provocateur, in fact. After a certain amount of noisy good fellowship in the bar of this low wine-shop, part of the company adjourned to the room above, the door was locked, and the business of the evening began. It appeared that Dufour had not taken the Oath of Initiation, and it was forthwith administered to him and to me. We were given the choice of immediate departure or swearing upon the Bible, with terrific oaths and solemnities, that we would never divulge the secret of the Society nor give any account whatsoever of its proceedings.

We took the oath, and settled ourselves to endure an address from Becque on the subject of The Rights of Man--always meaning unwashen, uneducated, unpatriotic and wholly worthless Man, bien entendu. Coming from the general to the particular, Becque inveighed eloquently against all forms and manifestations of Militarism, and our folly in aiding and abetting it by conducting ourselves as disciplined soldiers. What we ought to do was to "demonstrate," to be insubordinate, to be lazy, dirty, inefficient, and, for a start, to be passively mutinous.

By the time we had spread his views throughout the Regiment and each man in the Regiment had written unsigned letters to a man in another Regiment, with a request that these might again be forwarded to other Regiments, the day would be in sight when passive mutiny could become active. Who were a handful of miserable officers, and more miserable N.

After the address, as proper to an ignorant but inquiring disciple, I humbly propounded the question:. All shall own all, and none shall oppress any. There shall be no rich, no police, no prisons, no law, no poor. I assured him that great things would result from this meeting, and he promised to come. Whereupon, taking my sword, I dragged my mighty boots and creaking uniform from his foul presence, lest I be tempted to take him by the throat and kill him. At eight-fifteen the next evening I was awaiting Becque outside my hotel, and when he arrived I led him, to his great mystification, to my private room.

With my left hand I patted my right elbow, each knee, the top of my head, the back of my neck and the tip of my nose. I raised my eyebrows inquiringly, and with my right hand twice patted my left shin, my heart, my stomach, and the seat of my trousers. I also could make "secret signs"! I then rang for a bottle of wine wherewith I might return his hospitality of the previous night--before I dealt with him.

I am a Frenchman. Except that we're all injured by the State, aren't we? There didn't ought to be any State. Are you fooling--or are you from the Third Central? At that time, you must know, duelling was not merely permitted but, under certain conditions, was compulsory, in the French Army, for officers and troopers alike. It was considered, rightly or wrongly, that the knowledge that a challenge to a duel would follow insulting conduct, must tend to prevent such conduct, and to ensure propriety of behaviour among people of the same rank. Unfortunately, no one was allowed to fight a duel with any person of a rank superior to his own.

There would otherwise have been a heavy mortality among Sergeants, for example! I do not know whether it may be the result or the cause of this duelling system, but the use of fists is regarded, in the French cavalry, as vulgar, ruffianly and low. Under no circumstances would two soldiers "come down and settle it behind the Riding School," in the good old Anglo-Saxon way.

If they fought at all, they would fight with swords, under supervision, with seconds and surgeons present, and "by order. A little careful management, and I should have friend Becque where I wanted him, give him the fright of his life, and perhaps put him out of the "agitating" business for a time. I told Dufour exactly what I had in mind, and, on the following evening, instead of dining at my hotel, I went in search of the scoundrel. He was no good to me in the canteen, on the parade-ground, nor in the street.

I needed him where the eye of authority would be quickly turned upon any unseemly fracas. This would do excellently. As the fatigue-party was dismissed by the Sergeant, Dufour and I strolled by, passing one on either side of Becque, who carried a broom. Lurching slightly, Dufour pushed Becque against me, and I gave him a shove that sent him sprawling. Springing up, he rushed at me, using the filthy broom as though it had been a bayonet. This I seized with one hand, and, with the other, smacked the face of friend Becque right heartily.

Like any other member of the snake tribe, Becque spat, and then, being annoyed, I really hit him. Take eight days' salle de police both of you. Who began it, and what happened? Trooper Becque had publicly spat upon Volontaire de Beaujolais, who had then knocked him down. The next evening's orders, read out to the troopers by the Caporaux-Fourriers, contained the paragraph, by order of the Colonel:. He should address his demand to his Captain Commanding, who should transmit it to the Colonel.

But it must not be forgotten that a good soldier ought to avoid quarrels. On hearing the order, I was of opinion that the loser would disappear from human ken for more than thirty days. For it was the Fencing-Master's job, while acting as Master of Ceremonies and referee, to stand close by, with a steel scabbard in his hand, and prevent either of the combatants from killing, or even dangerously wounding the other!

As instructed, we were "in stable kit, with any footwear preferred," so I had tucked my canvas trousers into socks, and put on a pair of gymnasium shoes. Scrutinizing Becque carefully, I came to the conclusion that he would show the fierce and desperate courage of a cornered rat, and that if he had paid as much attention to fencing as to physical culture and anarchistic sedition, he would put up a pretty useful fight. I wondered what sort of a swordsman he was, and whether he was in the habit, like myself and a good many troopers, of voluntarily supplementing the compulsory attendance at fencing-school for instruction in "foils and sabres.

Throughout the fight he held this ready to parry any head-cuts, or to strike down a dangerous thrust. And they called this a duel! My great fear was, that with the clumsy lout sticking his scabbard into the fight and deflecting cuts and thrusts, I should scratch Becque or Becque would scratch me. This would end the preposterous fight at once, as these glorious affairs were "first-blood" duels--and my object was to incapacitate Becque, and both frighten and punish a viperous and treacherous enemy of my beloved country.

I stared hard into Becque's shifty eyes. I parried for dear life, and allowed him to tire his arm and exhaust his lungs. He made me laugh, and that made me angry and him furious , for it was no laughing matter.

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D'you think you are beating carpets, or fighting a duel, you. Becque was pale and puffing like a porpoise. He had not attempted a single thrust or feint, but had merely slashed with tremendous speed, force and orthodoxy. He was a strong, plain swordsman, but not a really good and pretty fencer. It was like fighting two men at once.

Becque instantly cut, with a coup de flanc, and, as I parried, struck at my head. He was fighting even more quickly than in the first round, but with less violence and ferocity. He was tiring, and my chance was coming. I could have touched him a dozen times, but that was not my object. Becque was breathing heavily, and it was my turn to attack. Suddenly Becque sprang backward and thrust the point of his sword into the ground. And if you, Becque, retreat again like that, you shall fight with your back to a corner. Becque made another most violent assault. I parried until I judged that his arm was again tired, and then feinted at his head.

Up went his sword and Blum's scabbard, and my feint became a thrust--beneath the pair of them, and through Becque's right breast. France, my beautiful France, my second Mother, had one active enemy the less for quite a good while. There was a most tremendous row, ending in a Conseil de discipline, with myself in the dock, Becque being in the Infirmary. As all was in order, however, and nothing had been irregular except that the duellists had really fought , I was not sent, as my comrades had cheerfully prophesied, to three years' hard labour in the Compagnies de discipline in Algeria.

Life, after that promotion, became a little less complex, and improved still further when I headed the list of Volontaires at the October examination, and became a Sergeant. After hanging between life and death for several weeks, Becque began to mend, and Surgeon-Major Patti-Reville pronounced him to be out of danger. That same day I received an order through Sergeant de Poncey to visit the junior officer of our squadron, Sous-Lieutenant Raoul d'Auray de Redon, in his quarters, after stables.

He has often saved me from suicide--simply by a kind word and his splendid smile. If only our officers were all like him! I, too, had noticed the young gentleman, and had been struck by his beauty. I do not mean prettiness nor handsomeness, but beauty. It shone from within him, and illuminated a perfectly formed face. A light of truth, strength, courage and gentleness burned like a flame within the glorious lamp of his body.

He radiated friendliness, kindness, helpfulness, and was yet the best disciplinarian in the Regiment--because he had no need to "keep" discipline. It kept itself, where he was concerned. And with all his gentle goodness of heart he was a strong man. Nay, he was a lion of strength and courage. He was seated at a table, and looked up with a long appraising stare, as I saluted and stood at attention. And are you going to start a Clean Finger-nail Crusade in the Blue Hussars, and fight all those who do not join it and live up to its excellent tenets? In addition to his garlic, cast, jerks, German mother, nose-wiping and dog-tooth, he is a seditious scoundrel and a hireling spy and agitator, and is trying to seduce and corrupt foolish troopers.

You have attended his meetings, taken the oath of secrecy and fidelity to his Society, and you have been closeted with him in private at your hotel. I stared at de Redon in astonishment, and said what is frequently an excellent thing to say--nothing. Why did you challenge Becque, after you had joined his little Society for engineering a mutiny in the Regiment, for achieving the destruction of the State, and for encompassing the ruin of France?

My idea was to threaten him with a duel for every meeting that he held. Was he--a gentleman--going to demand with threats and menaces that I break my word--even to such a rat as Becque? Oh, yes, I know all about you, old chap. From de Lannec--though I don't know whether your uncle is aware of the fact. You'll be my 'superior officer' some day, I have no doubt. I must say I admire your pluck in coming to Us by way of the ranks.

How soon will you come to Africa? I am off next month. Isn't it a glorious honour to be one of your uncle's picked men? And now about this Becque. You needn't pursue him any more. I have been giving myself a little Secret Service practice and experiment. Much easier here in France than it will be in Africa, by Jove! Well, we know all about Becque, and when he leaves hospital he will go where there will be nothing to distract his great mind from his great thoughts for two or three years. He may be a mad dog, as you say, but I fancy that the mad dog has some pretty sane owners and employers.

But some one is going to do so. Some one who attended his last meeting--and who was too drunk to take any oaths. So drunk that he could only giggle helplessly when invited to swear! You may remember my valuable contribution to the great ideas of the evening. Such was my first encounter with this brilliant and splendid man, whom I came to love as a brother is rarely loved. I will tell in due course of my last encounter with him. A letter from de Lannec apprised me of the fact that my uncle had heard of the duel, and seemed amused and far from displeased with me.

Poor old de Lannec! He wrote that his very soul was dead within him, and his life "but dust and ashes, a vale of woe and mourning, a desert of grief and despair in which was no oasis of joy or hope. She had transferred her affections to a colonel of Chasseurs d'Afrique, and departed with him to Fez! At the end of the year, my uncle was pleased grimly to express himself as satisfied, and to send me forthwith to the Military School of Saumur, where selected Cavalry-Sergeants of good family and superior education are made into officers. I shall never forget my first glimpse of my new home.

It is indelibly etched upon the tablets of my memory. I stood at the great gates in the lane that separates the Spahis' barracks from those of the Foreign Legion, and thought of the day--so recently passed--when I had stood, a wretched civilian, at those of the Blue Hussars in St. Outside the red-white-and-blue-striped sentry-box stood a bearded dusky giant, a huge red turban crowning the snowy linen kafiya that framed his face; a scarlet be-medalled Zouave jacket covering a gaudy waistcoat and tremendous red sash; and the most voluminous skirt-like white baggy trousers almost concealing his great spurred cavalry-boots.

A huge curved cavalry-sabre hung at his left side, and in his right hand he bore a carbine. He saluted me with faultless smartness and precision, and little guessed how I was thrilled to the marrow of my bones as I returned the first salute I had received from a man of my own Regiment. Standing at the big open window of the Salle de Rapport in the regimental offices near the gate, was a strikingly smart and masculine figure--that of an officer in a gold-frogged white tunic that must surely have covered a pair of corsets , which fitted his wide shoulders and narrow waist as paper fits the walls of a room.

Beneath a high red tarbush smiled one of the handsomest faces I have ever seen. So charming was the smile, so really beautiful the whole man, that it could be none other than Raoul d'Auray de Redon, here a couple of years before me. I know now that one man can really love another with the love that is described as existing between David and Jonathan. I do not believe in love "at first sight," but tremendous attraction, and the strongest liking at first sight, soon came, in this case, to be a case of love at second sight.

To this day I can never look upon the portrait of Raoul d'Auray de Redon, of whom more anon, without a pang of bitter-sweet pain and a half-conscious prayer. Beyond this group stood a Lieutenant, examining a horse held by an Arab groom, and I was constrained to stare at this gentleman, for beneath a red tunic he wore a pair of the colossal Spahi white skirt-trousers, and these were gathered in at the ankle to reveal a pair of tiny pointed-toed patent shoes. I glanced beyond them to the Oriental garden, tree-embowered, which lay between the gates and the distant low-colonnaded stables that housed the magnificent grey Arab horses of the Regiment; and feeling that I could embrace all men, I stepped forward and entered upon my heritage.

One quickly grew tired of the mild dissipations of our club, the Cercle Militaire, and of the more sordid ones of the alleged haunts of pleasure boasted by that dull provincial garrison-town. Work saved me from weariness, however, for I worked like a blinded well-camel--at Arabic--in addition to the ordinary duties of a cavalry-officer. To the Spahis came Dufour, sent by my uncle at my request, and together we pursued our studies in the language and in disguises. Nor was I sorry when, at the earliest possible moment, my uncle again pulled wires, and I was ordered to Morocco.

In that fascinating country I was extremely lucky--lucky enough, after weary garrison-duty at Casa Blanca, or rather Ain Bourdja, outside its walls, Rabat, Mequinez, Fez, Dar-Debibagh and elsewhere--to be at the gory fight of R'fakha and to charge at the head of a squadron; and to play my little part in the Chaiova campaigns at Settat, M'koun, Sidi el Mekhi and the M'karto. After the heavy fighting round, and in, Fez, I was a Captain, and had two pretty little pieces of metal and ribbon to hang on my tunic; and in the nasty little business with the Zarhoun tribe who took it upon them to close the roads between Fez and Tangier and between Meknes and Rabat I was given command of the squadron that formed part of the composite battalion entrusted with the job.

With this squadron was my good Dufour, of course, a non-commissioned officer already wearing the medaille militaire for valour. Of course, we are actually astounded with all the striking guidelines you serve. Some 4 points in this post are unquestionably the best we have ever had. She learned a good number of issues, which include how it is like to have an awesome giving mood to let other folks clearly know precisely a variety of very confusing things.

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Especially the pictures of the buildings, sunsets and nature. The people shots are not so hot but still good. There is a bit to much glare on the people shots and they have awkward poses. Great job and keep up the good work! Everything looks so great.. Thanks for sharing, this is a fantastic blog post. Really looking forward to read more. I voted for a Fanciful Twist… she is awesome as is her blog…I have one question though… you used to have a way to see who is winning per the poll results … what happened?

What do you think? Ou alors tu entendais matches victorieux?!!! I truly appreciate interesting material like this. This is a great article. Your points are presented in a unique way and the content is well-written. I really enjoyed this reading. Czemu jedyne osoby ktore twierdza ze widzialy ufo to swiry.

Wiara w UFO nie rozni sie niczym od wiary w cuda, placzace krwia matki boskie, itd. In the name of Jesus! Jezus told me that. Great post Steve, this is why its so much fun to visit your site. As of course you know the same message is usually just delivered as warm fuzz. But the theology is there behind it. What an awesome giveaway! I already follow you over on OpenSky so here is how I love to sweat. Actually there are two ways……First is a vigorous yoga practice, espcially the warrior series. My favorite place to roll out is shoulders.

I needs to spend some time learning more or understandingmore. Thanks for excellent information I was looking for this information for my mission. Scott, other than me beating you this year. I have a better chance of seeing God on Sunday. Margaret, I hope the accupuncture works! I understand she may not be ready to hear such a joke yet. Salut ma puteti ajuta? Am facut exact cat ati specificat si nu stiu ce sa fak mai incolo. Ich wollte ja nicht kommentieren.. Mesmo se estivesse bom, ainda teria algum mimimi.

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Kenapa nggak datang aja? This woman is beautiful, her eyes and smile make you want to go to the ends of the earth just to see her smile, you are a Nubian queen and should be treated as oneGD Star Ratingloading…GD Star Ratingloading…. He should have just read it all from his phone like Drake. But I can already hear the howls of protest over how you're making light of the recreational use of hallucinogenic fungi.

They got presents, but not from the jolly fat man. They were raised in church, so they grew up knowing the religious meaning of holidays. We had special holiday foods, but not Santa, valentines, or Easter baskets. Because of church, they absorbed a certain amount of information by osmosis. As they grew, I combined religious education with homeschooling, answering their questions as they came.

The "so what" defense either wasn't deployed or wasn't effective. Some combination of "so there's a pattern here" and "so he might run away" have prevailed for the moment. You heard Charity read?! Ah what a wonderfully, spunky young lady. I hope she remembers the boy who packed her home made kaluah for lunch. I am glad to know she is still writing. I miss her from her State College days. The new website looks great! Which reminds me that I should be spending some time on mine, too. What a great experience you must have had in New Zealand!

This post could not be written any better! Reading this post reminds me of my good old room mate! He always kept talking about this. I will forward this post to him. Fairly certain he will have a good read. Many thanks for sharing! The transportaion is pretty convenient. The tuition is not expensive. There are lots of restaurants and stors near by the campus. The equipment is good. The design department is famous.

The enverionment around campus is nice. Many soap operas and MTVs take scenes here. Top 60, best college of design in the world. The restromms are clean and toilet paper supplies all the time!!! Nana shows to everybody once more how much she loves our country.

If only others could follow her exemple. Ich bin a Cherman Muslim……. Der strashny schmerz goes away gegangen un alles bude lepshy……. Even so, Ich habe der strashny schmerz in mine dumm Kopf from haben gereading diese Stoff. Have you always used Handcent? Did you change the settings for HandcentI use Handcent. In security, I have the following: View blocking listThe tracker phone number is in the blocking list. Try to uninstall Handcent, you can always reinstall.

Escuchando un especial de temas de Pink Floyd pocos conocidos. Tengo un enigma nuevo en mi blog. The performance was exactly the same for both platforms with both maintaining 30 FPS, so I understand why you say the PS3 wins in that department. According to the literature I found, it is the "beyond reasonable doubt" standard that applies in the patent grant procedure under German law. That is because the patent grant procedure is basically public administrative law, and not, as the Hearing Officer suggests, a civil matter. The issue is a bit controversial, but rarely discussed.

Hi,Saw your ad on Living Social. I have a questions regarding the Living social classes. With the voucher, am I only eligible for he LIving social classes? Or will I hold a full membership to CrossFit North Burlington, and be able to attend all the classes you have to offer. Avec une coleslaw ou des baked beans. Nada, e nada que se lhe tivesse assemelhado. I just finished another novella, Polar Bear Christmas.

Baron,Must have been a rousing event. Wish I could have joined in a toast ot two. Offering a belated one with some Piper Heidsieck: Four Horsemen Against the Apocalypse. And to Baron B. The Tun Tavern comes to mind, where another Resistance force was born. Anyone who is aware of the food they eat will notice and make a choice. They may choose to ignore it, but it will have an impact on their behavior. Aber nachdem das Paket letztes Mal irgendwo auf dem Weg zu mir verloren gegangen ist, ist das vielleicht gut, dass ich diesmal nicht dabei bin.

Bad Karma und so. Hey JohnAnother great blog, full of wise words and something I totally agree with, very true. Exciting times ahead if you step outside of that fitness box. Hope to meet you soon,Thanks Kim. That just seems horrible. Hello Nice blog site. Do you need to guest submit in mine sometime? If so please inform me by means of e-mail or simply reply to this particular opinion because We subscribed to notices and will realize should you choose. Hmmm…so either she just really got more annoying by not growing up or it was just too much back to back…I haven't picked this one up yet but fear I may have the same issues you did….

Interesting article over this website. In my opinion, if all web owners and bloggers made good content as you did, the internet will be a lot more useful than ever before. I have spent 3 hours searching for such infos. Right now with the task done, I will visit some live gay webcams. I used to be suggested this web site by my cousin. I am no longer sure whether or not this publish is written by way of him as no one else recognize such exact approximately my problem.

Must be the non-reading issue again. And yes, HR people are employees but we tend to take care of the important issues and not ignore them! Gee … imagine that … a politician engaging in mass deception. Hey there, have you seen Rapid Cash Cow? With Rapid Cash Cow, you will discover how to get much more money faster.

Testei no IE e no Chrome e a resposta ao click era normal. Its in the morning here, I have a nice hot cup of coffee in my hand, now all I need is ome of this and Id be as happy as can be. I love all your recipes with nutella!! Lembre dos momentos bons com a sua companheirinha! Tenho sonho de conhecer NY e quem sabe em breve. Mas para ir matando a vonte, vou te acompanhar por aqui!

Agreed that they ought ease up on density restrictions in-town. Most of town should be zoned to allow but not require pretty high residential density and commercial mixed use. Your bookshelf looks a lot like mine and I had wondered whether that was you in your header! I got some Dierdre Barlow-esque specs from there when they had an offer on that I'd seen on MSE, they had quite a lot of retro frames. Oh this has reminded me of the enormous glass contact lenses I saw on the Antiques Roadshow a week or two ago, you might be able to find it on iPlayer, makes me shudder just thinking of them!!!

I seriously appreciate people like you! Someone in my Facebook group shared this site with us so I came to check it out. Superb blog and outstanding design. I am not one for romance stories but I love this one.

Tausend Mal gedenk ich dein (Boje digital ebook) (German Edition)

Clay deserves whatever he desires. Trump however does not deserve Clays attention. I think Trump held it against Clay that hes friends with Rosie. Clay should have his own show called Celebrity Angels. Cat de frumos ai scris! M-au impresionat randurile cu "mergi la mormant…" si cel cu "fa un copil…". Hrana pentru suflet ai tu aici pe blog, eu asa simt. It has really grown on me since yesterday.

My home is very neutral blacks and whites with touches of animal prints and greens. Maybe I should try it in my house too! Lori Thanks for the beautiful card of Bellagio. How can I find the pics of Tuscany? You are very skilled. I like what you guys are up also. Such smart work and reporting! I think it will improve the value of my website. First off, you look beautiful, as always. Looks like quite an awesome book, I admire it's concept is to depict the girls in real life, as opposed to models who are often judged only on their appearance.

Hey, I think your blog might be having browser compatibility issues. When I look at your blog in Chrome, it looks fine but when opening in Internet Explorer, it has some overlapping. I just wanted to give you a quick heads up! Other then that, wonderful blog! With slide rules, adding machines and room sized Univac punch card early computers the US did it. A feat that the commies to this day could not recreate with a million times the technology. My uncle worked for Grumman, Sperry and Fairchild Republic all during the s to s and it is amazing what they could do.

Die Annahme, dass nur die Unterschicht lebenslange Suchtkarrieren vorzuweisen hat ist falsch. As they say in America, "You're killing a lot of birds with one stone here!! Enjoyed all the photos! I don't know if I'd want to be on the bridge with all those kids! I'd be leaning over the side puking my guts out! I love coming home to find a whole bag of meals prepared in my fridge……now if you can just do this with laundry: Hi, I just discovered your blog and I have to say I really like the metal frame chicken coop with the insulating wrap.

I love have you have captured them in the environment from flood mud to the river. They will be thrilled with the results. I think CIJA is holding some townhalls. For those who are supporters of CIJA should come out to them, I have it written in my calendar but i need to look it up. As far as i know some far right folks like ezra are gonna show up and try to influence cija to oppose section Thank you a lot for sharing this with all people you actually realize what you are talking about!

We can have a link change agreement between us!

Flüchten und Fliegen (Boje digital ebook) (German Edition)

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We have a very little storage room here in Japan and you can barely open it but I will say, I've never needed to run to the store for odds and ends like packaging tape. I just joined too! I was holding out because I teach high school and during the year there is just not enough time. Penso che se si contassero i giorni di lavoro passati per colmare le lacune di explorer, dovrebbero darci un vitalizio!

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Antonio, vale la pena. Felipe, es una revista fuera de lo corriente. Dilaida, pues eso que viva. I'm creating an IQ test that will be free from racial bias. My first multiple-choice test question goes like this: How much profit does he make. I will personally disprove the thesis of The Bell Curve.

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Accessibility indicator are very special ones. The glossary is sufficient for the moment. How did you go about finding the initial users for gmail protection app? What are the things you tried and what worked or is working for you? How do you go about evaluating a market for your product? Thank you for your comment beautiful Anita, Sometimes we have to relearn what it is like to be a child to appreciate where our children are coming from and now that we know even more we can then give our children the resourses to help them and to do this we need to know how best to communicate with them so they feel listened to, validated and appreciated.

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Thank you for sharing! You can find many awards and other grants that will provide you with funds to assist with education expenses. Thanks a lot for the post. Hopefully it will facilitate some communication and create at least some level of peace.