It was Joe Dillon who introduced the Wild West to us. He had a little library made up of old numbers of The Union Jack, Pluck, and The Halfpenny Marvel. Every evening after school we met in his back garden and arranged Indian battles. He and his fat young brother Leo, the idler, held the loft of the stable while we tried to carry it by storm; or we fought a pitched battle on the grass. But, however well we fought, we never won siege or battle and all our bouts ended with Joe Dillon‘s war dance of victory. His parents went to eight o‘clock mass every morning in Gardiner Street and the peaceful odour of Mrs Dillon was prevalent in the hall of the hou. But he played too fiercely for us who were younger and more timid. He looked like some kind of an Indian when he capered round the garden, an old tea-cosy on his head, beating a tin with his fist and yelling:
`Ya! yaka, yaka, yaka!‘
Everyone was incredulous when it was reported that he had a vocation for the priesthood. Nevertheless it was true.
手机充电特别慢
A spirit of unruliness diffud itlf among us and, under its influence, differences of culture
收银员工作内容and constitution were waived. We banded ourlves together, some boldly, some in jest and some almost in fear: and of the number of the latter, the reluctant Indians who were afraid to em studious or lacking in robustness, I was one. The adventures related in the literature of the Wild West were remote from my nature but, at least, they opened doors of escape. I liked better some American detective stories which were traverd from time to time by unkempt fierce and beautiful girls. Though there was nothing wrong in the stories and though their intention was sometimes literary, they were circulated cretly at school. One day when Father Butler was hearing the four pages of Roman History, clumsy Leo Dillon was discovered with a copy of The Halfpenny Marvel.
`This page or this page? This page? Now, Dillon, up. "Hardly had the day"... Go on! What day? "Hardly had the day dawned"... Have you studied it? What have you there in your pocket?‘
Everyone‘s heart palpitated as Leo Dillon handed up the paper and everyone assumed an innocent face. Father Butler turned over the pages, frowning.
`What is this rubbish?‘ he said. `The Apache Chief! Is this what you read instead of studying your Roman History? Let me not find any more of this wretched stuff in this college. The man who wrote it, I suppo, was some wretched fellow who writes the things for a drink. I‘m surprid at boys like you, educated, reading such stuff! I could understand it if National School boys. Now, Dillon, I advi you strongly, get at your ‘
This rebuke during the sober hours of school paled much of the glory of the Wild West for me, and the confud puffy face of Leo Dillon awakened one of my consciences. But when the restraining influence of the school was at a distance I began to hunger again for wild nsations, for the escape which the chronicles of disorder alone emed to offer me. The mimic warfare of the evening became at last as wearisome to me as the routine of school in the morning becau I wanted real adventures to happen to mylf. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.劳动组织
生活需要微笑作文
The summer holidays were near at hand when I made up my mind to break out of the weariness of school life for one day at least. With Leo Dillon and a boy named Mahony I planned a day‘s miching. Each of us saved up sixpence. We were to meet at ten in the morning on the Canal Bridge. Mahony‘s big sister was to write an excu for him and Leo Dillon was to tell his brother to say he was sick. We arranged to go along the Wharf Road until we came to the ships, then to cross in the ferryboat and walk out to e the Pigeon Hou. Leo Dillon was afraid we might meet Father Butler or someone out of the college; but Mahony asked, very nsibly, what would Father Butler be doing out at the Pigeon Hou. We were reassured, and I brought the first stage of the plot to an end by collecting sixpence from the other two, at the same time showing them my own sixpence. When we were making the last arrangements on the eve we were all vaguely excited. We shook hands, laughing, and Mahony said:
身上长黑痣
`Till tomorrow, mates.‘收拼音
加减法的意义That night I slept badly. In the morning I was firstcomer to the bridge, as I lived nearest. I
hid my books in the long grass near the ashpit at the end of the garden where nobody ever came, and hurried along the canal bank. It was a mild sunny morning in the first week of June. I sat up on the coping of the bridge, admiring my frail canvas shoes which I had diligently pipeclayed overnight and watching the docile hors pulling a tramload of business people up the hill. All the branches of the tall trees which lined the mall were gay with little light green leaves, and the sunlight slanted through them on to the water. The granite stone of the bridge was beginning to be warm, and I began to pat it with my hands in time to an air in my head. I was very happy.
谈人生When I had been sitting there for five or ten minutes I saw Mahony‘s grey suit approaching. He came up the hill, smiling, and clambered up beside me on the bridge. While we were waiting he brought out the catapult which bulged from his inner pocket and explained some improvements which he had made in it. I asked him why he had brought it, and he told me he had brought it to have some gas with the birds. Mahony ud slang freely, and spoke of Father Butler as Old Bunr. We waited on for a quarter of an hour more, but still there was no sign of Leo Dillon. Mahony, at last, jumped down a
nd said:
