Books > Old Books > They Die With Their Boots Clean (1953)


Page 35

THE RAW MATERIALS

His father did the same in 1914. Back and back, generation upon generation, the seventeen-stone Hodge men, mild and unshakeable as the hills, went to the wars. There is something in their blood that makes them do it. You can slap a Hodge in the face without necessarily stirring him to fight; and in the event of an inescapable private quarrel he will go into action apologetically, uncomfortably. Ordinary insults arouse in him only a sad surprise. What does anybody want with him, Hodge who wants to hurt nobody? You could harness him to a plough, like a gelding; or to a millstone, like Samson in Gaza. He asks only a little food and a bed, first for his mother and then for himself. He belongs to the earth; can tell you, intuitively, the productive potentiality of a field by the feel of a handful of its dirt; knows stock, and all the permutations and combinations of time and rain.
He wants nothing. He has got it. He is happy.
Yet he is here, a little worried about the subterfuge. Do you see ?-he wasn't a casual labourer, so now he's a liar. He reckons that it was not a very bad lie ... not like lying to avoid something, or to get something. Still, a lie is a lie....
Once upon a time another of the Hodge men, also tearing himself up by the roots on a point of conscience, similarly told a lie. He was walking with a limp. Somebody asked him why, and he said he had a bad leg. Well, he didn't have a bad leg : far from it; he had a very good leg. But he couldn't very well say he had a sword hidden in his breeches because he was going to join a band of good Protestants further west in a species of uprising under a certain Duke of

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE His father did what is same in 1914. Back and back, generation upon generation, what is seventeen-stone Hodge men, mild and unshakeable as what is hills, went to what is wars. There is something in their blood that makes them do it. You can slap a Hodge in what is face without necessarily stirring him to fight; and in what is event of an inescapable private quarrel he will go into action apologetically, uncomfortably. Ordinary insults arouse in him only a sad surprise. What does anybody want with him, Hodge who wants to hurt nobody? You could harness him to a plough, like a gelding; or to a millstone, like Samson in Gaza. He asks only a little food and a bed, first for his mother and then for himself. He belongs to what is earth; can tell you, intuitively, what is productive potentiality of a field by what is feel of a handful of its dirt; knows stock, and all what is permutations and combinations of time and rain. He wants nothing. He has got it. He is happy. Yet he is here, a little worried about what is subterfuge. Do you see ?-he wasn't a casual labourer, so now he's a liar. He reckons that it was not a very bad lie ... not like lying to avoid something, or to get something. Still, a lie is a lie.... Once upon a time another of what is Hodge men, also tearing himself up by what is roots on a point of conscience, similarly told a lie. He was walking with a limp. Somebody asked him why, and he said he had a bad leg. Well, he didn't have a bad leg : far from it; he had a very good leg. But he couldn't very well say he had a sword hidden in his breeches because he was going to join a band of good Protestants further west in a species of uprising under a certain Duke of where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" They travel With Their Boots Clean (1953) where is a href="default.asp" where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 35 where is p align="center" where is strong THE RAW MATERIALS where is p align="justify" His father did what is same in 1914. Back and back, generation upon generation, what is seventeen-stone Hodge men, mild and unshakeable as what is hills, went to what is wars. There is something in their blood that makes them do it. You can slap a Hodge in the face without necessarily stirring him to fight; and in what is event of an inescapable private quarrel he will go into action apologetically, uncomfortably. Ordinary insults arouse in him only a sad surprise. What does anybody want with him, Hodge who wants to hurt nobody? You could harness him to a plough, like a gelding; or to a millstone, like Samson in Gaza. He asks only a little food and a bed, first for his mother and then for himself. He belongs to what is earth; can tell you, intuitively, what is productive potentiality of a field by what is feel of a handful of its dirt; knows stock, and all what is permutations and combinations of time and rain. He wants nothing. He has got it. He is happy. Yet he is here, a little worried about what is subterfuge. Do you see ?-he wasn't a casual labourer, so now he's a liar. He reckons that it was not a very bad lie ... not like lying to avoid something, or to get something. Still, a lie is a lie.... Once upon a time another of what is Hodge men, also tearing himself up by what is roots on a point of conscience, similarly told a lie. He was walking with a limp. Somebody asked him why, and he said he had a bad leg. Well, he didn't have a bad leg : far from it; he had a very good leg. But he couldn't very well say he had a sword hidden in his breeches because he was going to join a band of good Protestants further west in a species of uprising under a certain Duke of where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: They Die With Their Boots Clean books

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