Then sent a taunting message

It is said that lie brought ropes with him to bind the chiefs; but for the people   at the sight of whose beautiful swords and turban-like head-dresses lie was incensed bread-knives and peasants’ caps: for such, he said, best became them.

Vfis first attacked and carried the smaller in- trenchment, despite the iron cannon with which it was defended by the Servians. But the larger fortification held out the whole day, so that the Turks were appalled by the losses they sustained ; and as their scouts reported that Kara George was approaching with his whole force, at least 10,000 men (he actually did lead down about 5000 from the mountains), Afis determined to retreat. Accordingly, during the night, he took down the standards with which he had surrounded the besieged fort; and, that his departure might not in consequence be noticed, he planted branches of trees in their stead, and then removed to Parakyn.

On the following morning Kara George made his appearance. Finding the camp deserted, he advanced as far as a hill in front of Parakyn, and saluted the enemy with some shot. He then sent a taunting message: saying “ If the Pacha were a hero, lie would come down into the plain:” asking “ Why should the poor people in the town, who had committed no wrong, have their houses burnt ? ” Kara George wished, moreover, to avoid the necessity of attacking Parakyn, on account of its belonging to the Pacha of Leskowaz, to whom he was under some obligation.

Afis found it difficult to hold his position, even behind the walls of Parakyn. Despairing of being able to carry out his undertaking, and much chagrined at the necessity of yielding to a Raja, he retreated still further to Nisch. Ilis death, which occurred soon after, was ascribed to the mortification he experienced at the frustration of his mission.

What had hitherto been avoided now actually took place. After an army which the Grand Signior had sent to Servia had been repulsed by violence on the borders of the country, it could no longer be said that the Sovereign took part with the Raja.

The war that had been commenced against the Dahis now took a different turn; and owing to the errors of the day, the old national dissensions were revived.

A silent signal of distress

Our oceans are the largest carbon sink on the planet. This big blue diffuser, for decades helping to buffer the impacts of climate change, is finally giving way. It is sending us a signal, and we ignore it at our peril.

A report published recently by the World Meteorological Organization revealed that more than 90 per cent of the energy trapped by greenhouse gases goes into the oceans.

As this year’s World Environment Day highlights air pollution, it’s up to us think and reflect. How much is our daily activity affecting our bigger ecosystem?

As a diver and founder of Better Blue in China—a network of divers and citizen scientists collecting data about our oceans to protect them—I am alarmed by what I have seen.

Fish finding it harder to breathe below the depths of the ocean due to diminishing oxygen supplies; corals sending a bright glow before they die for good. The ocean is emitting a silent signal of distress. Why aren’t we taking any notice?

Recently, the World Meteorological Organization called for a ‘drastic change of course’, following a report highlighting the impacts of climate change, associated sea level rise extreme weather and record greenhouse gas levels.

The ocean is where most of our environmental pollution ends up—contaminated by industries from agriculture to tourism. There is a proverb that anyone with a passion for the environment should be familiar with: “Dilution is the solution to pollution.”

Although the ocean is tolerant, it has a limit. The ocean cannot and should not be the destination for all our waste. After all, the future of mankind depends on this vast body of water and all the lives inside it—and it’s where we came from.

We need to preserve the ocean and rivers as one part of our giant ecosystem.

I recently took part in a campaign to raise awareness about the impact our daily activities is having on our wider world. The campaign, The Elysium Epic program, spans eight years and includes expeditions to the Antarctic, Arctic and the coral sea.

In Antarctica, the journey is inspired and informed by the incredible adventures of Sir Ernest Shackleton, who made three visits to the Antarctic region in the Endurance ship but died in 1922.

His expedition photographer, Frank Hurley, documented the majesty of the Antarctic region until the Endurance sank beneath the ice. Ten years later, internationally renowned underwater photographer and conservationist, Michael Aw, decided to trace his steps.

As part of this activity, a team of 57 Elysium explorers returned to Antarctica to document the Shackleton adventure and the environmental decline since. Some of this series of exhibitions, talks and presentations came to China recently.

The Arctic sea ice spread has this year been the lowest on record for the last four years, reflecting a downward trend in winter sea ice extent.

Since the 1950s, a total of 25,000 km2 of ice shelf has been lost from around the Antarctic Peninsula. In volume, this is the equivalent of the UK domestic water requirement for around 1,000 years.

The Emperor penguin colony featured in the 2005 film March of the Penguins, has since declined severely, disappearing completely in some areas. According to this recent report, the global population of these beautiful creatures could halve by 2052.

This has been an eye-opener for me. In my daily work, exploring the ocean, I have discovered how the ocean plays an essential role in regulating global climate, controlling the carbon, oxygen, and water cycles of the planet and supporting life on earth.

But our human activities are changing the chemical composition of the ocean, affecting pH levels and productivity, impairing the ability of ocean life to survive and thrive. These vital signs are telling us that our planet is in distress.

It’s time to educate ourselves about the ocean, through initiatives like the Save our Seas Fund and Elysium. Governments can use tax policies to support renewable energy, and electric mobility.

As individuals, we can take notice and think about how our everyday actives impact our ecosystem. Take a look at these toolkits to discover what you can do today to #BeatAirPollution—from using public transport to reducing your electricity consumption.

No one can do everything, but everyone can do something. Together we are part of the whole and collectively, we can make better choices and work towards a better, bluer, more sustainable future.

Miao Wang is Young Champion of the Earth for Asia and the Pacific and Founder of Better Blue. The regional finalists in this year’s competition have been shortlisted and winners will be announced in September. Stay tuned!

Air pollution is the theme for World Environment Day on 5 June 2019 hosted by China. The quality of the air we breathe depends on the lifestyle choices we make every day. Learn more about how air pollution affects you, and what is being done to clean the air. What are you doing to reduce your emissions footprint and #BeatAirPollution?

They were coming from school

Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

Wilde was bom in Dublin in 1854, the son of distinguished parents. His mother, Lady Wilde, was famous for her volumes of Irish stories. Wilde went first to Trinity College, Dublin, and later to Oxford. His first published work was a volume of poems in 1881. From that time until 1895 he wrote plays, poems, essays, a novel, and several short stories and fairy tales. Wilde’s jewelled style was never employed to better purpose than in the group of tales from which The Selfish Giant has been selected. In 1895 he was sentenced to two years’ hard labour as a result of a notorious trial. After his release he travelled in Italy and France, and died in 1900 at Paris.

The Selfish Giant is reprinted, by permission of Mr. Philip Nutt, from The Happy Prince and Other Tales, published by Gerald Duckworth and Co.

The Selfish Giant

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach- trees that in the Spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw children playing in the garden.

“What are you doing there?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “anyone can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself. So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.

He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,” they said to each other.

 

Celebrating Portugal’s past, present, and future

In heavily trafficked areas, such as the food pavilion seducing passersby with goodies like Porto-style bifana sandwiches and Alentejo wine, you’ll see literature pushing the party’s agenda and overhear panelists addressing topics ranging from child and parenting rights to social security and capitalism’s detriment to the environment.

This year, among other tributes, discussions also reflected on Portugal’s political past in honor of the 45th anniversary of the Carnation Revolution. Speakers remembered events like the 1969 students’ rights protest in Coimbra and youth opposition to the Estado Novo regime in its dying days. Some who lived through it shared their stories.

Debate has always been central to Avante! But in light of the revolutionary anniversary and Portugal’s then-upcoming October 6 general election, which saw Prime Minister António Costa secure a second term, this year’s discourse was particularly weighty.

Though the prime minister belongs to the center-left Socialist Party, his administration is significant for the PCP. During the last election in 2015, Costa brokered an unprecedented, informal alliance with the PCP and Left Bloc after winning fewer votes than the center-right Social Democrats, clenching a parliamentary majority and claiming the premiership.

Few expected the minority administration to succeed. It was labeled a geringonça, or “contraption,” comparing the coalition to an unstable machine.

Since 2015, however, Portugal has seen impressive economic growth in the wake of the eurozone crisis, nearly eliminated its budget deficit, increased the minimum wage, lowered unemployment rates, and reversed austerity measures, such as restoring four public holidays. Tourism and start-ups have also flourished.

Failing to win a majority in parliament earlier this month, Prime Minister Costa has expressed interest in renewing the alliance with the PCP and Left Bloc, as have both parties and Portuguese voters. In return for its parliamentary support, the PCP advocates for social welfare programs and workers’ rights, as well as issues like free textbooks in public schools and cheaper public transport — the same issues that fuel Avante!’s annual debates.

Daytime at Avante! is a choose-your-own-adventure extravaganza of art, activism, education, and culture. Music plays throughout the day, whether an afternoon set by an indie rock band, a traditional fado performance, or a round of “Carvalhesa,” the communist anthem that always seems to be playing somewhere.

At night, though, the festival fulfilled my friend’s prophecy.

The crowd that had earlier rallied around General Secretary of the PCP Jerónimo de Sousa, who opened the festival to loud cheering and a sea of red flags, morphed into a more familiar mosh of dancing festivalgoers.

This year’s lineup featured Portuguese artists like the all-female pop-punk band Anarchicks and heavy metal group Moonspell, as well as international acts like politically vocal American rock band The Last Internationale and Spanish songstress Sílvia Pérez Cruz, whose debut solo album was nominated for album of the year in both Spain and France.

Avante! is not Woodstock. It’s not Glastonbury, and it’s certainly not Coachella, though it is fair to call it a music festival. It’s also political, cultural, and contradictory, at once engaged and carefree, wholesome and a little bit rowdy. In truth, it’s a fitting tribute to a country-defining revolution that’s often recounted as jubilant, festive even, and to an unlikely administration that’s finding leftist success when much of Europe is moving toward right-wing populism.

In an era in which the news cycle churns out more dramatic twists than soaps, Avante! is the rare political festival that manages to be politics-optional. It may be hard to pin down, but one thing’s for sure: It’s a hell of a party no matter how you vote or, as it turns out, what country you’re registered.

In previous years, Richie Havens and The Band, both of whom performed at Woodstock in 1969, also played the festival, as did Dexy’s Midnight Runners of ‘80s-classic “Come on Eileen” fame.

At the festivals and assemblies near the cloisters

In the more numerous assemblies, the heroic sorm prevails; and at taverns, Avliere card-playing is yet unknown, it constitutes the principal entertainment: the singer is lie who has first taken thegusle into his hand, and AVIIO is best able to accompany it with his voice. At the festivals and assemblies near the cloisters, parties stand forward who have devoted themselves exclusively to singing  including the blind; who, however  especially in Servia  are oftener singers than composers of songs. Men of real poetic talent, like Philip Wisli- nitsch from Bosnia, are occasionally met with, who collect a circle around them, and often move their audience to tears.

Nor have those Servians who have gone over to Islaniism been able to subdue their affection for poesy. Christians and Mahometans frequently have the same heroic song; the only difference being that each claims the victory for the adherents to its own faith.

The Chiefs, though they would not take part in the song, listen to it with delight; and in Sarajewo, they once induced the Kadi to liberate a Christian prisoner, merely because his songs pleased them. The difference of religion is overcome by poesy: it unites the whole race it lives throughout the nation. The mountains, where the herdsman tends the cattle; the plains, on which the harvest is reaped; the forest, through which the traveller makes his way  all resound with  song: it forms an accompaniment to business of all sorts. What, then, are the subjects of these strains, which under circumstances so infinitely varied, are thus interwoven with life, while they are almost unconsciously raised above it ?

What man strongly feels, he naturally seeks to express. Here, where no external model presents itself, the inward spiritual existence, from which all our thoughts and actions proceed, is manifested, by words, according to its own peculiar originality. In the light of innate thought, which is the spirit of life, poetry conceives its ideas, and reproduces them true to nature, but in purer and more abstract forms; at once individual and symbolical.

Servian song discloses the domestic life of the people: it pays due honour to the husbandman “who has black hands, but eats white bread;” it loves to dwell with fondness on the old man with venerable flowing beard, whose soul, when he leaves the earthly temple of his God, has become pure as ether, or the breath of a flower ; but it most luxuriates in those affections which exalt the worth of a family and maintain it in integrity and honour.

The old men, having grown-up sons

Already we enter upon the domain of Servian poesy, which is connected with and expresses these sentiments. Like them, it is altogether national, and intuitive; an unconscious result of the ordinary dispositions and direction of the popular mind. Even of the most recent songs, no one is able to name the writers : people even hesitate to acknowledge their authorship ; and indeed it is little inquired after. As their lyrical effusions are subjected to constant changes, and the very song which is disliked when given by an inferior singer, excites enthusiasm when sung by a more successful performer  by one possessing more of the national sentiment and spirit  the authorship is considered as of little importance.

It has been observed that there are, in Servian Hungary, schools in which the blind learn these national songs: but that is not the true method. In the mountains of Servia and Herzegowina, there is no occasion to learn them: they are familiar to all, even from their infanc).

In the mountains, the gusle, the instrument on which the song is accompanied, is to be met with in almost every house. When, in the winter evenings, all are assembled around the lire and the women are engaged with their spinning, a song is struck up by whomsoever happens to know it best.

The old men, having grown-up sons, and being excused from hard labour, recite these songs to their grandchildren, who yield themselves with delight to the impressions through which they receive their first knowledge of the world. Even the Igumens of the cloister do not deem it derogatory to sing to the gusle. But the performance has more of the character of recitation than of singing: the monotonous sound of the instrument, which has but one string, falls in only at the end of the verse.

In the mountains  where men are of simpler habits, loftier in stature, and of ruder nature  we hear heroic songs, invariably of five trochees, with the fixed pause after the second foot; and almost every line is in itself a complete sentence.

The lower we come down towards the Danube and the Save, and the closer together we find the villages  the race of men is more polished, more friendly, and also smaller in stature; and the gusle becomes less common; and  especially as an accompaniment for dancing  the lovesong prevails : it is more flexible and flowing than other songs since it adds the dactyl, in varied modes, to the trochee; but it is in its kind equally national.

Looring of the chamber

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so Cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye—not even his—could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out—no stain of any kind—no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all—-ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o’clock—still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart—for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night: suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ^ ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted familiar things. But, ere long, I felt mysef getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct:—it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness— until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

Sound increased

No doubt I now grew very pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observation of the men but the noise steadily increased.

Oh, God; what could I do? I foamed

—I raved-

—I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder

—louder

—louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God!

—-no, no! They heard!

—they suspected!

—they knew!-

—they were making a mockery of my horror!

—this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die!

—and now

—again!

— hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

—“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed!

— tear up the planks!

—here, here!

—it is the beating of his hideous heart!”

The Thracian Bosphorus

The re-established Greek Emperors could no longer hope to extend their dominion over Servia. Under the necessity of appeasing the hostility of the Latins by an approximation to their church ritual, they involuntarily excited the aversion of the bigoted populace of their own country, from whom they with difficulty exacted obedience.

This conflict between the Latins and Greeks, and the divisions that again sprang up in all parts — exciting feuds on the whole line of coast, and in the interior, from the Ionian sea to the Thracian Bosphorus, and preventing the establishment of any strong or lasting government—gave the Servians an opportunity of acting vigorously on their own behalf, indignant that the government of Constantinople, unable even to defend itself, should make humiliating demands upon them, they, at the end of the loth century, assumed the offensive, and took possession of the provinces on the Upper AVardar, which belonged to the ancient Servian tribes.

The continued disunions at Constantinople, and the relations in which the Servians stood with the contending parties, made it easy for them to make further encroachments; and in the first half of the 14th century, they not only formed the strongest power of the Illyrian triangle, but it appeared probable that they would exert a powerful influence on the politics of Europe.

The natural policy of the Servians was always to act with that party in the Greek Empire which opposed the Court. They allied themselves with the younger Andronicus against the elder. Ser- gianus of Macedonia, and Sphranzes of Bccotia, powerful governors of provinces, who had quarrelled with the younger Andronicus, found refuge amongst them, and afterwards returned strengthened by their support.

In 1341, when John Cantacuzenus assumed the purple, important prospects were opened to the Servians. Cantacuzenus, finding that neither his friends and relations, nor the Latin auxiliary troops whom he had assembled, could uphold his authority, went up to the mountains, and prevailed upon Stephan Dushan, the powerful king of the Servians, whom he found in a country palace at Pristina, to join his cause.

Nicephorus Grcgoras relates, that these princes entered into an agreement, according to which neither of them was to interfere with the success of the other, and that the towns of their common enemies should be left at liberty to declare in favour of whichever leader they might prefer.* If this be true, it may be assumed that a league of brotherhood was concluded between them, ac-cording to the national custom in Servia.

China to host World Environment

Nairobi, 15 March 2019 – Today, the head of Chinese delegation, Zhao Yingmin, Vice Minister of Ecology and Environment, and Joyce Msuya, Acting Head of UN Environment, jointly announced that China will host the global World Environment Day celebrations on 5 June 2019 with a theme of air pollution.

Approximately 7 million people worldwide die prematurely each year from air pollution, with about 4 million of these deaths occurring in Asia-Pacific. World Environment Day 2019 will urge governments, industry, communities, and individuals to come together to explore renewable energy and green technologies, and improve air quality in cities and regions across the world.

The Government of China has committed to organizing World Environment Day celebrations across multiple cities, with Hangzhou, in the province of Zhejiang, to host the main event.

The announcement comes as environment ministers from across the globe participate in the world’s highest-level environmental forum in Nairobi. Negotiations at the Fourth UN Environment Assembly 11-15 March are expected to tackle critical issues such as stopping food waste and promoting the spread of electric cars. It also follows the publication of a review report of 20 Years’ of air pollution control in Beijing.

“China will be a great global host of 2019’s World Environment Day celebrations,” said Joyce Msuya at the announcement on Friday. “The country has demonstrated tremendous leadership in tackling air pollution domestically. It can now help spur the world to greater action. Air pollution is a global emergency affecting everyone. China will now be leading the push and stimulating global action to save millions of lives.”

China with its growing green energy sector, has emerged as a climate leader. The country owns half the world’s electric vehicles and 99 percent of the world’s electric buses. By hosting World Environment Day 2019, the Chinese government will be able to showcase its innovation and progress toward a cleaner environment.

According to a new UN report on air pollution in Asia and the Pacific, implementing 25 technology policies could see up to a 20 per cent reduction in carbon dioxide and a 45 per cent reduction in methane emissions globally, leading to a third of a degree Celsius saving of global warming.

World Environment Day is a UN Environment-led global event, which takes place on June 5 every year and is celebrated by thousands of communities worldwide.

Since it began in 1972, it has grown to become the single largest celebration of our environment each year.

Air Pollution facts:

92 per cent of people worldwide do not breathe clean air

Air pollution costs the global economy $5 trillion every year in welfare costs

Ground-level ozone pollution is expected to reduce staple crop yields by 26 per cent by 2030

NOTES TO EDITORS

About UN Environment:

UN Environment is the leading global voice on the environment. It provides leadership and encourages partnership in caring for the environment by inspiring, informing, and enabling nations and peoples to improve their quality of life without compromising that of future generations. UN Environment works with governments, the private sector, civil society and with other UN entities and international organizations across the world.

My ears to think of anything

They then talked about the elections and the crops while they reloaded, and I fell to tying up my wounds. But presently they opened fire again with animation, and every shot took effect but it is proper to remark that five out of the six fell to my share. The sixth one mortally wounded the Colonel, who remarked, with fine humor, that he would have to say good morning now, as he had business up town. He then inquired the way to the undertaker’s and left.

The chief turned to me and said, “I am expecting company to dinner, and shall have to get ready. It will be a favor to me if you will read proofs and attend to the customers.”

I winced a little at the idea of attending to the customers, but I was too bewildered by the fusillade that was still ringing in my ears to think of anything to say.

Blistering article

He continued, “Jones will be here at three cowhide him. Gillespie will call earlier, perhaps throw him out of the window. Ferguson will be along about four kill him. That is all for today, I believe. If you have any odd time, you may write a blistering article on the police give the Chief Inspector rats. The cowhides are under the table; weapons in the drawer ammunition there in the corner lint and bandages up there in the pigeon-holes. In case of accident, go to Lancet, the surgeon, downstairs. He advertises we take it out in fulness were gone from me. Gillespie had called and thrown me out of the window.

Jones arrived promptly, and when I got ready to do the cowhiding he took the job off my hands. In an encounter with a stranger, not in the bill of fare, I had lost my scalp. Another stranger, by the name of Thompson, left me a mere wreck and ruin of chaotic rags. And at last, at bay in the corner, and beset by an infuriated mob of editors, blacklegs, politicians, and desperadoes, who raved and swore and flourished their weapons about my head till the air shimmered with glancing flashes of steel, I was in the act of resigning my berth on the paper, when the chief arrived, and with him a rabble of charming and enthusiastic friends.

Then ensued a scene of riot and carnage such as no human pen, or steel one either, could describe. People were shot, probed, dismembered, blown up, thrown out of the window. There was a brief tornado of murky blasphemy, with a confused and frantic war-dance glimmering through it, and then all was over. In five minutes there was silence, and the gory chief and I sat alone and surveyed the sanguinary ruin that strewed the floor around us.

He said, “You’ll like this place when you get used to it.”

Source: https://action.docappadocia.com/journalism-in-tennessee-part-4/