Thomas Babington Macaulay - "The History of England from the Accession of James II, Vol. 3"

Victor Hugo - "Actes et Paroles, Vol. 4"

Mary W. Tileston - "Daily Strength for Daily Needs"

Gouverneur Morris - "The Spread Eagle and Other Stories"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Defenders of Democracy

U >> Unknown >> The Defenders of Democracy




"Nope. Just bored down-town. Felt like bein' cozy and--buzzin'
round the lamp in something comfy. Fine! Had a regular banquet!
Bill's all right, little devil! I tucked him in so he shouldn't
be lonesome.

"Me? I've been out walkin'. Been throwin' snow-balls at the
street-lamps. My feet are soakin', but I don't care, I don't care.
Heard a concert myself, thanks. Whistles and things tootin' out
in the snow on the river to beat the band! Don't think of it! I'm
fine. Enjoy yourself. What's life for? Good night, old girl.
Don't lose your key!"

Cameron got as far as the cedar chest in the hall, but there, in
his wet socks, he sat down and he laughed until he ached all over.
Suddenly he stiffened, and his heels banged against the chest.

Miss Merritt, mouth and eyes wide open, stood absorbing him, as
crimson as was Cameron himself.

"I heard the 'phone," she faltered. "Miss. Cameron always calls
up to know if Billy's all right--"

"I know that she does," said Cameron, stiffly, and, rising, he
stocking-footed it past her and shut himself in his bedroom.

"yes, sir; good night, sir." Miss Merritt stared at his door. "Good
Lord!" she whispered in the nursery, "how awful for Billy and her
if he takes to drink!"

Nellie came out of the telephone booth, her face white with horror.
"Willoughby," she gasped, "get me a taxi quick!"

"Billy--"

"No, no, NO! It's Joe!"

"What--"

"Oh," she wailed, "I've gone too far! Joe is--drunk!"

Willoughby's face went to pieces.

"Don't look like that, Nell! Don't! What of it? Just what we've
been up to, isn't it?"

"How can you say that? Get my wraps. I am going home."

"Your car isn't ordered till eleven--"

"What do I care what I go in? Oh, I have been such a fool!"

"Don't mention it," grinned Crane as he wrapped her coat about her.

Gaily Crane waved his white-gloved hand to her, her face gleaming
back pearl-like for an instant in the shadowy taxi; then she was
whirled northward and lost in the snowy night. Back in his place
next to Nellie's empty chair, he mused tenderly over the vagaries
of a mere bachelor till the incomparable Austrian carried his mind
off to where tone is reality, where there is neither marriage nor
giving in marriage.


Nellie fitted the key into the lock. Her fingers shook. The
apartment was dark except for a light in the hall, and as still
as if it were empty. If only Joe would STAY asleep till he'd had
time to sleep this horrible state of affairs away!

She switched off the light and carefully let herself into their
room, and stood a moment, huddled, breathless, against the door.
The room was ghostly. The vague, snow-veiled light filtered in
from the street-lamp below, making of Cameron an incoherent lump,
wrapped to his eyes in the covers of their chintz-hung bed.

Her hands clasped tight, she peered at him through the shadows.
He did not move. He was sleeping heavily, curiously, irregularly,
his breath coming in jerky little snorts. "Oh," she wailed in her
guilt heart, "he is, he is! Poor dear old Joey, drunk! And it's
all, all my fault!" Swiftly she undressed in the dark. If he were
to awaken, to begin saying awful maudlin things---

Her heart pounding, she lifted the covers and crept into martyrdom
on the hard edge of the bed. Cameron slept on. Once he seemed
to be strangling in a bad dream, and she fought with her sense of
duty to awaken him, then, miserably, let him strangle!

Gravely Nellie's tired eyes traveled from familiar shadow to shadow,
to rest at last upon the dangling heap of clothes upon a chair by
the window that symbolized Joe Cameron by the sane light of day.
Fatigue tossed her off to sleep now and then; terror snatched her
back and made her cry. In the first faint dawn she awakened with
a start to find that in her sleep her tired body had slipped back
to its place, and her head was resting deliciously upon her pillow.
And, with the growing dawn, humor came creeping back, and try
as she would, her mouth twitched. Of all people, dear old Joey!
Carefully she turned her head and peered at him. His face was turned
toward her, what light there was fell full upon him. Wonder took
away her smile. His face was fresh, the lines of care and worry
softened away as if he were at the end of a two weeks' vacation.
She rested her chin on her arm, amazed, puzzled. And suddenly
a grin like the sunrise spread over Joe's face, and he opened his
eyes.

[signed] Alice Woods

By courtesy of "The Century."





To Those Who Go




In a sense the hundreds of thousands of American soldiers who go
to France are modern crusaders. Like the valiant men of the Middle
Ages who traveled far to fight in strange lands for the ideal that
possessed their souls, these twentieth-century knights-errant go
to defend the ideals of liberty and right and honor which are the
issues of this war and which our Allies have successfully upheld
for more than three years.

In that chivalric spirit General Pershing stood at the tomb
of LaFayette and said, "LaFayette, we are here." As a young man
only twenty years old LaFayette went out to a new land to fight
for liberty, and now after nearly a century and a half the same
inspiration that sent him forth is taking our young men back to
fight in the land o his birth the old fight for right. The great
romance of international history which the relations of France and
America have afforded from the birth of this republic has entered
a new chapter with the pilgrimage of our fighting men to Europe,
and the inestimable service of LaFayette and his comrades to our
infant republic is now to be in part repaid by the nation that
France helped to establish.

But though it is a chivalric mission on which our soldiers go,
they should not enter France in the attitude of saviors. It must
be remembered that the United States came very late into this war,
and while our troops and even more our money and material resources
may have decisive weight toward victory, yet it is France, England,
Italy, Russia against whom the enemy has spent his strength. Our
Allies have brought the war already to its turning point, and we can
at best only add completeness to their achievement. Furthermore,
while we aid France and her Allies, we are defending ourselves
also. We went to war because Germany was killing our citizens,
was plotting against the peace and security of our nation, because
her restless ambition and lust for power were choking not only
Europe but the world.

Our American soldiers will find in France a people who have endured
with wonderful courage and devotion through more than three years
of terrific strain against odds which must often have seemed
hopeless. The French are the heroes of this war. They have been
in the fight from the beginning and will be there until the end.
Their armies were fully engaged when England had not a hundred
thousand men under arms and Italy was a neutral; they fought on
when Russia lost her grip; and they will not quit until their land
is cleared of invaders and the Prussian shadow that has darkened
France for more than forty years is lifted. More than any other
country except Belgium, France has felt the horror and hardships
of the war which we are spared because she has paid the price of
our protection.

American soldiers who go to France are to be envied because they
are getting what comes to few men,--opportunity to be of direct,
vital service to that country. To be young, to be fit, to have a
part however small in the great events that are making the world
over into a safer and happier place for our children to live in,
is something for a man to be proud of now and to remember with
satisfaction to his last day.

The war may last much longer than we now anticipate, but there can
be no doubt of the ultimate victory of the cause to which we are
committed. The world never turns back, it moves always forward,
always upward. Our soldiers may go out, as the Crusaders went of
old, with absolute faith that their service will not be given in
vain, that their effort and daring will not be unavailing.

[signed] Myron Herrick





The Hero's Peace




There is a peace that springs where battles thunder,
Unknown to those who walk the ways of peace
Drowsy with safety, praising soft release
From pain and strife and the discomfortable wonder
Of life lived vehemently to its last, wild flame:
This peace thinks not of safety, is not bound
To the wincing flesh, nor to the piteous round
Of human hopes and memories, nor to Fame.

Immutable and immortal it is born
Within the spirit that has looked on fear
Till fear has looked askance; on death has gazed
As on an equal, and with noble scorn,
Spurning the self that held the self too dear,
To the height of being mounts calm and unamazed.

[signed] Amelie Rives (Princess Troubetzkoy)

Castle Hill, Virginia

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