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Yêu cầu tàu Trường Sa tạm ngưng thử nghiệm

vada — Fri, 01 Aug 2014 01:41:53 GMT

Đang chuẩn bị đưa tàu ngầm Trường Sa mini lên xe ra biển, ông Nguyễn Quốc Hòa nhận được chỉ đạo khẩn tạm ngưng thử nghiệm của Bộ Quốc phòng để kiểm tra lần cuối.

Liên quan đến kế hoạch đưa tàu ngầm Trường Sa mini quay lại biển thử nghiệm lần hai, kỹ sư Nguyễn Quốc Hòa (Giám đốc công ty cơ khí Quốc Hòa) cho biết, tàu Trường Sa đang ở trạng thái hoàn hảo nhất nhưng tạm thời chưa thể ra quay lại biển.

Theo kỹ sư Hòa, mới đây, Bộ Quốc phòng đã có ý kiến chỉ đạo tạm thời ngưng thử nghiệm để đoàn công tác kiểm tra lần cuối, lấy kết quả báo cáo lên Bộ xem xét. Nếu các chỉ số đảm bảo yêu cầu, Bộ sẽ trực tiếp vạch kế hoạch chi tiết để tàu có thể ra khơi an toàn và đảm bảo thành công.$CUT$

Hình ảnh tàu Trường Sa thử nghiệm lần thứ nhất trên biển.

Trước động thái mới từ cơ quan chức năng, kỹ sư Hòa cho biết, ông cảm ơn sự quan tâm của Bộ dành cho Trường Sa mini và tin tưởng, tàu sẽ sớm được ra khơi.

“Sau khi gắn thiết bị đạt mức hoàn hảo nhất, Trường Sa mini đang chuẩn bị được đưa lên xe ra biển thì bất ngờ nhận chỉ đạo khẩn của Bộ. Dù rất lấy làm tiếc, tôi vẫn tin tưởng ước mơ sẽ sớm thành hiện thực”, cha đẻ tàu Trường Sa mini chia sẻ.

Về kế hoạch thử nghiệm mới tới đây, ông Hòa cho hay, ngoài việc tiếp tục nằm chờ ở xưởng, kế hoạch thử nghiệm cũ có thể sẽ phải hủy bỏ. Cha đẻ tàu ngầm Trường Sa mini cũng chưa chắc chắn địa điểm thử nghiệm có được diễn ra ở biển Thái Bình hay không.

“Sau khi tu sửa tàu xong, tôi đã vạch kế hoạch chi tiết cho lần thử nghiệm tới, nhưng giờ có lẽ sẽ phải hủy bỏ toàn bộ, chờ phản ứng của cơ quan chức năng”, ông Hòa cho biết. Dù chưa thể đưa tàu ra biển như dự kiến, vị Giám đốc vẫn tỏ ra lạc quan và tin tưởng vào sản phẩm công nghệ của mình.

Trước thông tin nhiều người cho rằng, việc tàu ngầm ra biển trong tháng 7 âm lịch không thích hợp, ông Hòa cho biết, đây chỉ là những lời dựa vào mê tín đen đuổi, không có căn cứ thực tế.

Mới đây, trong chuyến công tác vào miền nam, kỹ sư Hòa đã có dịp gặp gỡ ông Phan Bội Trân - tác giả chế tạo tàu ngầm Yết Kiêu. Cuộc gặp diễn ra thành công, hai bên đã chia sẻ nhiều kinh nghiệm quý giúp phát triển ý tưởng thiết kế tàu ngầm ở hai miền đất nước.

>> Những vũ khí của Hải quân Việt Nam từng "ám ảnh" kẻ thù

Theo Duy Cảnh (Zing.vn)

Triều Tiên phóng liên tiếp 4 tên lửa ra biển

vada — Fri, 01 Aug 2014 01:37:22 GMT

Triều Tiên ngày 30/7 đã phóng liên tiếp 4 tên lửa ra biển ngoài khơi bờ biển phía đông nước này, vụ phóng mới nhất trong hàng loạt vụ thử tên lửa trong những tuần gần đây.

Giới chức từ Bộ quốc phòng Hàn Quốc cho biết 4 tên lửa tầm ngắn đã được phóng đi từ đỉnh núi Myohyang, phía đông bắc thủ đô Bình Nhưỡng.$CUT$

Triều Tiên liên tục thử tên lửa trong những tuần gần đây.

Theo các nguồn tin trên, Triều Tiên đã phóng 2 tên lửa vào buổi sáng và thêm 2 tên lửa nữa vào buổi chiều. Tất cả đều được phóng ra phía biển.

Hãng tin Yonhap của Hàn Quốc đưa tin, một số quả tên lửa dường như đã tới biển, nhưng một số có thể đã không bay xa đến vậy và thay vào đó rơi xuống đất liền Triều Tiên.

Triều Tiên thường xuyên tiến hành các vụ thử nghiệm pháo và tên lửa, nhưng số lượng các vụ thử nghiệm được tiến hành trong năm nay nhiều hơn hẳn các năm trước.

Số lượng các vụ thử nghiệm tên lửa gia tăng được cho là có liên quan tới sự lãnh đạo của ông Kim Jong-un, người kế nhiệm cha mình vào năm 2011.

Đô đốc Samuel Locklear, người phụ trách các lực lượng Mỹ tại châu Á-Thái Bình Dương, hôm 29/7 đã bày tỏ lo ngại tại một cuộc họp báo của Lầu Năm Góc rằng thế giới dường như đang trở nên "vô cảm" trước mức độ các vụ thử tên lửa của Triều Tiên.

>> Mỹ sắp thử "lá chắn" chống tên lửa Triều Tiên

Theo An Bình (Dân Trí)

Cực khoái “trông” thế nào?

vada — Fri, 01 Aug 2014 01:32:23 GMT

Dù trong chuyện vợ chồng vẫn đạt “khoái cảm”, nhưng tôi phân vân không biết đó có phải là “cực khoái” hay không. Tôi có ngớ ngẩn không?

Với phụ nữ, khoái cảm là món quà tình dục dạng “tiền mặt” dễ tìm và đa dạng gốc tích (âm vật, âm đạo, túi cùng sau, nhũ hoa…). Cực khoái, quý hiếm hơn, được xem là đỉnh của khoái cảm. Như vậy, nếu cần nhận biết thì cách dễ nhất là dựa vào cường độ: khoái cảm tột đỉnh = cực khoái.

Tuy nhiên, người ta cho rằng nhận diện cực khoái không đơn giản đưa tất cả lên bàn cân là xong và đây là lý do xuất hiện những trường hợp trải suốt cuộc sống tình dục của mình, nhiều quý bà, quý cô vẫn không thể trả lời mình đạt cực khoái hay chưa.

Câu hỏi là nếu không thể dựa vào tiêu chuẩn cường độ thì còn phương án nào nhận ra cực khoái? May mắn vì “quý” nên biểu hiện của cực khoái khác lạ hơn khoái cảm tầng lớp dưới.$CUT$

Ảnh minh họa

Chung quy, cực khoái diễn biến qua bốn trạng thái trên cơ thể các cô. 1- Đầu tiên là tình trạng tụ máu ồ ạt gây sung huyết (nề phù, đỏ ửng) bề mặt, chủ yếu tại mặt, ngực hoặc toàn thân. 2- Căng và co cơ rộng khắp, phổ biến ở tay, chân, mặt, có khi cả cơ thể bị xoắn vặn. 3- Nhịp tim nhanh, huyết áp tăng cao, tốc độ trao đổi khí tăng lên (nhịp tim 120 lần/phút, thậm chí 150-160 lần/phút, nhịp thở 40 lần/phút, kèm rên rỉ). 4- Lơ mơ thị giác, thính giác, vị giác, khứu giác (được xem là tình trạng thoát ngất). 5- Âm đạo co thắt mạnh theo từng nhịp đều đặn mang lại cảm giác khoái lạc lan toàn thân.

Có lẽ đã quá rõ để một phụ nữ bắt được cực khoái của mình. Vấn đề là nói dễ hơn làm, với đủ bộn bề lúc chăn gối diễn ra, rõ ràng không dễ cho các bà phát hiện cực khoái. Khoái lạc làm “mụ mị” chủ của nó khiến họ không thể tỉnh táo nhận ra chính… khoái lạc. Nếu không “chú ý”các cô rất dễ để trôi tuột cơ hội nắm bắt bằng chứng cực khoái, vốn vụt qua chóng vánh.

Do vậy, nếu cần “giấy trắng mực đen”, việc có thể đơn giản là các bà cần gắng chủ tâm, bỏ qua việc thụ hưởng là xong. Đừng quên có một số biểu hiện mà chính các bà khó tự nhận biết, cần có sự chỉ điểm của người chung chăn. Chẳng hạn, phần lớn, chỉ có ông chồng mới nhìn thấy cơn co chi (nhất là đầu ngón chân) do cực khoái của vợ để tiệp báo cho bà.

Sau cùng, hiển nhiên, cái kết có thể không có hậu là cực khoái khó nắm bắt vì nó không hiện diện. Những trường hợp không thể đạt cực khoái, tạm gọi là “bệnh lý” (không phải do ông bà ăn nằm chưa tới) là có thể xảy ra tuy không phổ biến.

Theo Bs Đỗ Minh Tuấn (Phunuonline.com.vn)

Kinh hoàng: Phát hiện "thi thể người cá"

vada — Fri, 01 Aug 2014 01:27:18 GMT

Mới đây, người ta đã phát hiện ra những “thi thể người cá” gây xôn xao dư luận.

Người đã phát hiện ra những “thi thể người cá” gây xôn xao dư luận thời gian qua là Juan Cabana. Anh là người chuyên sưu tầm các mẫu vật người cá. Juan mở một bảo tàng riêng để trưng bày các mẫu vật này.

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Mẫu vật người cá được tìm thấy.

Những mẫu vật có trong bảo tàng của Juan có hình thù kỳ quái, có đặc điểm của loài thú sống trên cạn kết hợp với đặc điểm của loài cá sống dưới nước. Đặc biệt có mẫu vật lại có hình thù giống người kết hợp với đuôi của loài cá.

Juan cho biết, anh đã lang thang trên bờ biển hẻo lánh và đã tìm thấy hài cốt của những sinh vật được gọi là nàng tiên cá. "Khi sống, chúng có thể đã ở rất sâu dưới đáy biển. Khi chúng chết, các cơn bão mang chúng từ dưới những vùng biển tối tăm lên những bờ cát trắng” - Juan cho biết thêm.

Có những mẫu vật Juan tìm được hặc mua lại của người dân địa phương - nơi mẫu vật được phát hiện - rất giống với hình dạng nửa người nửa cá. Theo kinh nghiệm của Juan, tại các vịnh nhỏ ở những nơi xa xôi hẻo lánh mới có thể tìm thấy các “thi thể người cá” theo cách gọi của anh.

Nhà sưu tầm này đã tập hợp hài cốt của chúng lại, tái tạo cho chúng thêm một lớp da, với hy vọng bảo tồn chúng. Juan cho rằng, những mẫu vật này có vẻ đẹp hoang dã và kỳ lạ.

Mặc dù Juan đã giải thích và đánh dấu cả địa điểm và thời gian tìm được các mẫu vật này nhưng người xem vẫn không khỏi hoài nghi về sự tồn tại của những quái vật người cá này ở thế giới hiện đại.

Theo Vy Anh (Phunutoday.vn)

Xuất hiện loài cá ăn tinh hoàn người đi bơi

vada — Thu, 31 Jul 2014 17:10:29 GMT

Loài cá Pacu thích ăn tinh hoàn những người bơi lội đã xuất hiện ở thành phố phía tây tỉnh Kaliningrad, gần biển Baltic, Nga.

Loài cá ăn tinh hoàn Nam Mỹ đã xuất hiện ở nước Nga

$CUT$

Cá Pacu có họ gần với loài cá Piranha chuyên ăn thịt, rất nguy hiểm. Pacu là loài cá sinh sống ở Nam Mỹ, chủ yếu ăn các loại hạt và tảo. Tuy nhiên, do nhầm lẫn tinh hoàn người với loại hạt ưa thích của chúng, nên loài cá này thường tấn công tinh hoàn của những người bơi lội.

Hồ nước nơi người ngư dân tìm thấy những con cá Pacu.

Hãng thông tấn Nga Interfax cho biết, một ngư dân đã bắt được vài con cá Pacu trong một hồ nước của thành phố Kalingrad. Sau đó, ông ta mang chúng đến gặp các nhà sinh vật học đại dương để xác định đây là loại cá gì.

Loài cá có vẻ ngoài rất đẹp và có thể ăn thịt được.

Hãng thông tấn Interfax nói rằng, con người có thể ăn thịt cá Pacu. Loài cá này có thể phát triển kích thước tới 90cm trong điều kiện tự nhiên. Tuy nhiên, chúng không thể tồn tại trong môi trường lạnh giá ở biển Baltic và mùa đông.

Theo Vũ Huệ (Tiền Phong)

Make Money Online With Adbrite

vada — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 13:47:37 GMT

$CUT$About Adbrite

Adbrite has been around for a while now, developed by Pud who is a serial entrepreneur. It came about as an alternative to Google Adsense, but very different in that a price is given for a set period of time and for a set price. There’s no ppc (pay per click), which is favoured by Adsense and it’s copycats. The point of Adbrite is to get as many clicks possible to your advert in the alotted time.
There are a few options to promote your product: Text Links – Standard Text link adverts, with a title and description and link to your site Banners – These can be graphic banners of any size, although you may be restricted by kb size Inline Ads – Adverts on special text keywords. Full Page Ads – It would link to your custom landing page Britepic – Used in Videos and Images Advert Tips

The point is to drive as much traffic possible to your advert, so as an Advertiser I’d suggest the following: Use Text Links and Banners, you can find cheaper ads this way Try to keep adverts relevant to the site I’d prefer to use Text Links, so make the wording clear and exciting In the Site Directory, use the category filters and sort by Uniques. Adbrite Publisher Tips

As a publisher (which may be the best option), you can display potential advertiser’s adverts on your site. The pricing structure is allocated by the number of uniques, pagerank and impressions your site has! I’d also suggest the following: Manage your Ad Zones, experiment with Text Ads, Full Page and Inline – although Text Ads are best Keep initial startup prices low and DO NOT use the recommended price adjuster When increasing ad prices, they need to be justified..if you’ve got a backlog of advertisers, then that’s the time to do it! Make sure the ads are on all pages, even 404′d ones..there’s no restriction compared to Adsense Limit the number of adverts. I use a vertical section of 4 ads only

Join Adbrite

They also have a publisher program, which offers: 50% of AdBrite’s profits for the first 3 months 10% of AdBrite’s profit for the next 9 months Conclusion

Adbrite isn’t so great, I always feel I could of got a better return somewhere else and think is designed for sites with huge amount of traffic and unique visitors. I also felt that a few years back when they sold off part of the business to BLA, I lost a lot of revenue so it takes time to establish yourself as an advert seller.
If you need any help, ask me here

you are aware," said he, checking off points upon his fingers, "that the cranial index is a constant factor?"

"Naturally," said I.

"And that telegony is still sub judice?"

"Undoubtedly."

"And that the germ plasm is different from the parthenogenetic egg?"

"Why, surely!" I cried, and gloried in my own audacity.

"But what does that prove?" he asked, in a gentle, persuasive voice.

"Ah, what indeed?" I murmured. "What does it prove?"

"Shall I tell you?" he cooed.

"Pray do."

"It proves," he roared, with a sudden blast of fury, "that you are the damnedest imposter in London--a vile, crawling journalist, who has no more science than he has decency in his composition!"

He had sprung to his feet with a mad rage in his eyes. Even at that moment of tension I found time for amazement at the discovery that he was quite a short man, his head not higher than my shoulder--a stunted Hercules whose tremendous vitality had all run to depth, breadth, and brain.

"Gibberish!" he cried, leaning forward, with his fingers on the table and his face projecting. "That's what I have been talking to you, sir--scientific gibberish! Did you think you could match cunning with me--you with your walnut of a brain? You think you are omnipotent, you infernal scribblers, don't you? That your praise can make a man and your blame can break him? We must all bow to you, and try to get a favorable word, must we? This man shall have a leg up, and this man shall have a dressing down! Creeping vermin, I know you! You've got out of your station. Time was when your ears were clipped. You've lost your sense of proportion. Swollen gas-bags! I'll keep you in your proper place. Yes, sir, you haven't got over G. E. C. There's one man who is still your master. He warned you off, but if you WILL come, by the Lord you do it at your own risk. Forfeit, my good Mr. Malone, I claim forfeit! You have played a rather dangerous game, and it strikes me that you have lost it."

"Look here, sir," said I, backing to the door and opening it; "you can be as abusive as you like. But there is a limit. You shall not assault me."

"Shall I not?" He was slowly advancing in a peculiarly menacing way, but he stopped now and put his big hands into the side-pockets of a rather boyish short jacket which he wore. "I have thrown several of you out of the house. You will be the fourth or fifth. Three pound fifteen each--that is how it averaged. Expensive, but very necessary. Now, sir, why should you not follow your brethren? I rather think you must." He resumed his unpleasant and stealthy advance, pointing his toes as he walked, like a dancing master.

I could have bolted for the hall door, but it would have been too ignominious. Besides, a little glow of righteous anger was springing up within me. I had been hopelessly in the wrong before, but this man's menaces were putting me in the right.

"I'll trouble you to keep your hands off, sir. I'll not stand it."

"Dear me!" His black moustache lifted and a white fang twinkled in a sneer. "You won't stand it, eh?"

"Don't be such a fool, Professor!" I cried. "What can you hope for? I'm fifteen stone, as hard as nails, and play center three-quarter every Saturday for the London Irish. I'm not the man----"

It was at that moment that he rushed me. It was lucky that I had opened the door, or we should have gone through it. We did a Catharine-wheel together down the passage. Somehow we gathered up a chair upon our way, and bounded on with it towards the street. My mouth was full of his beard, our arms were locked, our bodies intertwined, and that infernal chair radiated its legs all round us. The watchful Austin had thrown open the hall door. We went with a back somersault down the front steps. I have seen the two Macs attempt something of the kind at the halls, but it appears to take some practise to do it without hurting oneself. The chair went to matchwood at the bottom, and we rolled apart into the gutter. He sprang to his feet, waving his fists and wheezing like an asthmatic.

"Had enough?" he panted.

"You infernal bully!" I cried, as I gathered myself together.

Then and there we should have tried the thing out, for he was effervescing with fight, but fortunately I was rescued from an odious situation. A policeman was beside us, his notebook in his hand.

"What's all this? You ought to be ashamed" said the policeman. It was the most rational remark which I had heard in Enmore Park. "Well," he insisted, turning to me, "what is it, then?"

"This man attacked me," said I.

"Did you attack him?" asked the policeman.

The Professor breathed hard and said nothing.

"It's not the first time, either," said the policeman, severely, shaking his head. "You were in trouble last month for the same thing. You've blackened this young man's eye. Do you give him in charge, sir?"

I relented.

"No," said I, "I do not."

"What's that?" said the policeman.

"I was to blame myself. I intruded upon him. He gave me fair warning."

The policeman snapped up his notebook.

"Don't let us have any more such goings-on," said he. "Now, then! Move on, there, move on!" This to a butcher's boy, a maid, and one or two loafers who had collected. He clumped heavily down the street, driving this little flock before him. The Professor looked at me, and there was something humorous at the back of his eyes.

"Come in!" said he. "I've not done with you yet."

The speech had a sinister sound, but I followed him none the less into the house. The man-servant, Austin, like a wooden image, closed the door behind us.

Shopping

******

Try Your Luck With Professor Challenger

vada — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 16:23:29 GMT

Try Your Luck With Professor Challenger

I always liked McArdle, the crabbed, old, round-backed, red-headed news editor, and I rather hoped that he liked me. Of course, Beaumont was the real boss; but he lived in the rarefied atmosphere of some Olympian height from which he could distinguish nothing smaller than an international crisis or a split in the Cabinet. Sometimes we saw him passing in lonely majesty to his inner sanctum, with his eyes staring vaguely and his mind hovering over the Balkans or the Persian Gulf. He was above and beyond us. But McArdle was his first lieutenant, and it was he that we knew. The old man nodded as I entered the room, and he pushed his spectacles far up on his bald forehead.
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"Well, Mr. Malone, from all I hear, you seem to be doing very well," said he in his kindly Scotch accent.

I thanked him.

"The colliery explosion was excellent. So was the Southwark fire. You have the true descreeptive touch. What did you want to see me about?"

"To ask a favor."

He looked alarmed, and his eyes shunned mine. "Tut, tut! What is it?"

"Do you think, Sir, that you could possibly send me on some mission for the paper? I would do my best to put it through and get you some good copy."

"What sort of meesion had you in your mind, Mr. Malone?"

"Well, Sir, anything that had adventure and danger in it. I really would do my very best. The more difficult it was, the better it would suit me."

"You seem very anxious to lose your life."

"To justify my life, Sir."

"Dear me, Mr. Malone, this is very--very exalted. I'm afraid the day for this sort of thing is rather past. The expense of the `special meesion' business hardly justifies the result, and, of course, in any case it would only be an experienced man with a name that would command public confidence who would get such an order. The big blank spaces in the map are all being filled in, and there's no room for romance anywhere. Wait a bit, though!" he added, with a sudden smile upon his face. "Talking of the blank spaces of the map gives me an idea. What about exposing a fraud--a modern Munchausen--and making him rideeculous? You could show him up as the liar that he is! Eh, man, it would be fine. How does it appeal to you?"

"Anything--anywhere--I care nothing."

McArdle was plunged in thought for some minutes.

"I wonder whether you could get on friendly--or at least on talking terms with the fellow," he said, at last. "You seem to have a sort of genius for establishing relations with people--seempathy, I suppose, or animal magnetism, or youthful vitality, or something. I am conscious of it myself."

"You are very good, sir."

"So why should you not try your luck with Professor Challenger, of Enmore Park?"

I dare say I looked a little startled.

"Challenger!" I cried. "Professor Challenger, the famous zoologist! Wasn't he the man who broke the skull of Blundell, of the Telegraph?"

The news editor smiled grimly.

"Do you mind? Didn't you say it was adventures you were after?"

"It is all in the way of business, sir," I answered.

"Exactly. I don't suppose he can always be so violent as that. I'm thinking that Blundell got him at the wrong moment, maybe, or in the wrong fashion. You may have better luck, or more tact in handling him. There's something in your line there, I am sure, and the Gazette should work it."

"I really know nothing about him," said I. I only remember his name in connection with the police-court proceedings, for striking Blundell."

"I have a few notes for your guidance, Mr. Malone. I've had my eye on the Professor for some little time." He took a paper from a drawer. "Here is a summary of his record. I give it you briefly:--

"`Challenger, George Edward. Born: Largs, N. B., 1863. Educ.: Largs Academy; Edinburgh University. British Museum Assistant, 1892. Assistant-Keeper of Comparative Anthropology Department, 1893. Resigned after acrimonious correspondence same year. Winner of Crayston Medal for Zoological Research. Foreign Member of'--well, quite a lot of things, about two inches of small type--`Societe Belge, American Academy of Sciences, La Plata, etc., etc. Ex-President Palaeontological Society. Section H, British Association'--so on, so on!--`Publications: "Some Observations Upon a Series of Kalmuck Skulls"; "Outlines of Vertebrate Evolution"; and numerous papers, including "The underlying fallacy of Weissmannism," which caused heated discussion at the Zoological Congress of Vienna. Recreations: Walking, Alpine climbing. Address: Enmore Park, Kensington, W.'

"There, take it with you. I've nothing more for you to-night."

I pocketed the slip of paper.

"One moment, sir," I said, as I realized that it was a pink bald head, and not a red face, which was fronting me. "I am not very clear yet why I am to interview this gentleman. What has he done?"

The face flashed back again.

"Went to South America on a solitary expedeetion two years ago. Came back last year. Had undoubtedly been to South America, but refused to say exactly where. Began to tell his adventures in a vague way, but somebody started to pick holes, and he just shut up like an oyster. Something wonderful happened--or the man's a champion liar, which is the more probable supposeetion. Had some damaged photographs, said to be fakes. Got so touchy that he assaults anyone who asks questions, and heaves reporters doun the stairs. In my opinion he's just a homicidal megalomaniac with a turn for science. That's your man, Mr. Malone. Now, off you run, and see what you can make of him. You're big enough to look after yourself. Anyway, you are all safe. Employers' Liability Act, you know."

A grinning red face turned once more into a pink oval, fringed with gingery fluff; the interview was at an end.

I walked across to the Savage Club, but instead of turning into it I leaned upon the railings of Adelphi Terrace and gazed thoughtfully for a long time at the brown, oily river. I can always think most sanely and clearly in the open air. I took out the list of Professor Challenger's exploits, and I read it over under the electric lamp. Then I had what I can only regard as an inspiration. As a Pressman, I felt sure from what I had been told that I could never hope to get into touch with this cantankerous Professor. But these recriminations, twice mentioned in his skeleton biography, could only mean that he was a fanatic in science. Was there not an exposed margin there upon which he might be accessible? I would try.

I entered the club. It was just after eleven, and the big room was fairly full, though the rush had not yet set in. I noticed a tall, thin, angular man seated in an arm-chair by the fire. He turned as I drew my chair up to him. It was the man of all others whom I should have chosen--Tarp Henry, of the staff of Nature, a thin, dry, leathery creature, who was full, to those who knew him, of kindly humanity. I plunged instantly into my subject.

"What do you know of Professor Challenger?"

"Challenger?" He gathered his brows in scientific disapproval. "Challenger was the man who came with some cock-and-bull story from South America."

"What story?"

"Oh, it was rank nonsense about some queer animals he had discovered. I believe he has retracted since. Anyhow, he has suppressed it all. He gave an interview to Reuter's, and there was such a howl that he saw it wouldn't do. It was a discreditable business. There were one or two folk who were inclined to take him seriously, but he soon choked them off."

"How?"

"Well, by his insufferable rudeness and impossible behavior. There was poor old Wadley, of the Zoological Institute. Wadley sent a message: `The President of the Zoological Institute presents his compliments to Professor Challenger, and would take it as a personal favor if he would do them the honor to come to their next meeting.' The answer was unprintable."

"You don't say?"

"Well, a bowdlerized version of it would run: `Professor Challenger presents his compliments to the President of the Zoological Institute, and would take it as a personal favor if he would go to the devil.'"

"Good Lord!"

"Yes, I expect that's what old Wadley said. I remember his wail at the meeting, which began: `In fifty years experience of scientific intercourse----' It quite broke the old man up."

"Anything more about Challenger?"

"Well, I'm a bacteriologist, you know. I live in a nine-hundred-diameter microscope. I can hardly claim to take serious notice of anything that I can see with my naked eye. I'm a frontiersman from the extreme edge of the Knowable, and I feel quite out of place when I leave my study and come into touch with all you great, rough, hulking creatures. I'm too detached to talk scandal, and yet at scientific conversaziones I HAVE heard something of Challenger, for he is one of those men whom nobody can ignore. He's as clever as they make 'em--a full-charged battery of force and vitality, but a quarrelsome, ill-conditioned faddist, and unscrupulous at that. He had gone the length of faking some photographs over the South American business."

"You say he is a faddist. What is his particular fad?"

"He has a thousand, but the latest is something about Weissmann and Evolution. He had a fearful row about it in Vienna, I believe."

"Can't you tell me the point?"

"Not at the moment, but a translation of the proceedings exists. We have it filed at the office. Would you care to come?"

"It's just what I want. I have to interview the fellow, and I need some lead up to him. It's really awfully good of you to give me a lift. I'll go with you now, if it is not too late."

Half an hour later I was seated in the newspaper office with a huge tome in front of me, which had been opened at the article "Weissmann versus Darwin," with the sub heading, "Spirited Protest at Vienna. Lively Proceedings." My scientific education having been somewhat neglected, I was unable to follow the whole argument, but it was evident that the English Professor had handled his subject in a very aggressive fashion, and had thoroughly annoyed his Continental colleagues. "Protests," "Uproar," and "General appeal to the Chairman" were three of the first brackets which caught my eye. Most of the matter might have been written in Chinese for any definite meaning that it conveyed to my brain.

"I wish you could translate it into English for me," I said, pathetically, to my help-mate.

"Well, it is a translation."

"Then I'd better try my luck with the original."

"It is certainly rather deep for a layman."

"If I could only get a single good, meaty sentence which seemed to convey some sort of definite human idea, it would serve my turn. Ah, yes, this one will do. I seem in a vague way almost to understand it. I'll copy it out. This shall be my link with the terrible Professor."

"Nothing else I can do?"

"Well, yes; I propose to write to him. If I could frame the letter here, and use your address it would give atmosphere."

"We'll have the fellow round here making a row and breaking the furniture."

"No, no; you'll see the letter--nothing contentious, I assure you."

"Well, that's my chair and desk. You'll find paper there. I'd like to censor it before it goes."

It took some doing, but I flatter myself that it wasn't such a bad job when it was finished. I read it aloud to the critical bacteriologist with some pride in my handiwork.

"DEAR PROFESSOR CHALLENGER," it said, "As a humble student of Nature, I have always taken the most profound interest in your speculations as to the differences between Darwin and Weissmann. I have recently had occasion to refresh my memory by re-reading----"

"You infernal liar!" murmured Tarp Henry.

--"by re-reading your masterly address at Vienna. That lucid and admirable statement seems to be the last word in the matter. There is one sentence in it, however--namely: `I protest strongly against the insufferable and entirely dogmatic assertion that each separate id is a microcosm possessed of an historical architecture elaborated slowly through the series of generations.' Have you no desire, in view of later research, to modify this statement? Do you not think that it is over-accentuated? With your permission, I would ask the favor of an interview, as I feel strongly upon the subject, and have certain suggestions which I could only elaborate in a personal conversation. With your consent, I trust to have the honor of calling at eleven o'clock the day after to-morrow (Wednesday) morning.

"I remain, Sir, with assurances of profound respect, yours very truly, EDWARD D. MALONE."

"How's that?" I asked, triumphantly.

"Well if your conscience can stand it----"

"It has never failed me yet."

"But what do you mean to do?"

"To get there. Once I am in his room I may see some opening. I may even go the length of open confession. If he is a sportsman he will be tickled."

"Tickled, indeed! He's much more likely to do the tickling. Chain mail, or an American football suit--that's what you'll want. Well, good-bye. I'll have the answer for you here on Wednesday morning--if he ever deigns to answer you. He is a violent, dangerous, cantankerous character, hated by everyone who comes across him, and the butt of the students, so far as they dare take a liberty with him. Perhaps it would be best for you if you never heard from the fellow at all."

Shopping

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There Are Heroisms All Round Us

vada — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 16:22:01 GMT

There Are Heroisms All Round Us

Mr. Hungerton, her father, really was the most tactless person upon earth, a fluffy, feathery, untidy cockatoo of a man, perfectly good-natured, but absolutely centered upon his own silly self. If anything could have driven me from Gladys, it would have been the thought of such a father-in-law. I am convinced that he really believed in his heart that I came round to the Chestnuts three days a week for the pleasure of his company, and very especially to hear his views upon bimetallism, a subject upon which he was by way of being an authority.

For an hour or more that evening I listened to his monotonous chirrup about bad money driving out good, the token value of silver, the depreciation of the rupee, and the true standards of exchange.

"Suppose", he cried with feeble violence, "that all the debts in the world were called up simultaneously, and immediate payment insisted upon, what under our present conditions would happen then?"

I gave the self-evident answer that I should be a ruined man, upon which he jumped from his chair, reproved me for my habitual levity, which made it impossible for him to discuss any reasonable subject in my presence, and bounced off out of the room to dress for a Masonic meeting.

At last I was alone with Gladys, and the moment of Fate had come! All that evening I had felt like the soldier who awaits the signal which will send him on a forlorn hope; hope of victory and fear of repulse alternating in his mind.

She sat with that proud, delicate profile of hers outlined against the red curtain. How beautiful she was! And yet how aloof! We had been friends, quite good friends; but never could I get beyond the same comradeship which I might have established with one of my fellow-reporters upon the Gazette, perfectly frank, perfectly kindly, and perfectly unsexual. My instincts are all against a woman being too frank and at her ease with me. It is no compliment to a man. Where the real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions, heritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned as much as that or had inherited it in that race memory which we call instinct.

Gladys was full of every womanly quality. Some judged her to be cold and hard; but such a thought was treason. That delicately bronzed skin, almost oriental in its coloring, that raven hair, the large liquid eyes, the full but exquisite lips, all the stigmata of passion were there. But I was sadly conscious that up to now I had never found the secret of drawing it forth. However, come what might, I should have done with suspense and bring matters to a head to night. She could but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted brother.

So far my thoughts had carried me, and I was about to break the long and uneasy silence, when two critical, dark eyes looked round at me, and the proud head was shaken in smiling reproof. "I have a presentiment that you are going to propose, Ned. I do wish you wouldn't; for things are so much nicer as they are."

I drew my chair a little nearer. "Now, how did you know that I was going to propose?" I asked in genuine wonder.

"Don't women always know? Do you suppose any woman in the world was ever taken unawares? But oh, Ned, our friendship has been so good and so pleasant! What a pity to spoil it! Don't you feel how splendid it is that a young man and a young woman should be able to talk face to face as we have talked?"

"I don't know, Gladys. You see, I can talk face to face with the station-master." I can't imagine how that official came into the matter; but in he trotted, and set us both laughing. "That does not satisfy me in the least. I want my arms round you, and your head on my breast, and--oh, Gladys, I want..."

She had sprung from her chair, as she saw signs that I proposed to demonstrate some of my wants. "You've spoiled everything, Ned," she said. "It's all so beautiful and natural until this kind of thing comes in! It is such a pity! Why can't you control yourself?"

"I didn't invent it," I pleaded. "It's nature. It's love."

"Well, perhaps if both love, it may be different. I have never felt it."

"But you must--you, with your beauty, with your soul! Oh, Gladys, you were made for love! You must love!"

"One must wait till it comes."

"But why can't you love me, Gladys? Is it my appearance, or what?"

She did unbend a little. She put forward a hand--such a gracious, stooping attitude it was--and she pressed back my head. Then she looked into my upturned face with a very wistful smile.

"No it isn't that," she said at last. "You're not a conceited boy by nature, and so I can safely tell you it is not that. It's deeper."

"My character?"

She nodded severely.

"What can I do to mend it? Do sit down and talk it over. No, really, I won't if you'll only sit down!"

She looked at me with a wondering distrust which was much more to my mind than her whole-hearted confidence. How primitive and bestial it looks when you put it down in black and white!--and perhaps after all it is only a feeling peculiar to myself. Anyhow, she sat down.

"Now tell me what's amiss with me?"

"I'm in love with somebody else," said she.

It was my turn to jump out of my chair.

"It's nobody in particular," she explained, laughing at the expression of my face: "only an ideal. I've never met the kind of man I mean."

"Tell me about him. What does he look like?"

"Oh, he might look very much like you."

"How dear of you to say that! Well, what is it that he does that I don't do? Just say the word,--teetotal, vegetarian, aeronaut, theosophist, superman. I'll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will only give me an idea what would please you."

She laughed at the elasticity of my character. "Well, in the first place, I don't think my ideal would speak like that," said she. "He would be a harder, sterner man, not so ready to adapt himself to a silly girl's whim. But, above all, he must be a man who could do, who could act, who could look Death in the face and have no fear of him, a man of great deeds and strange experiences. It is never a man that I should love, but always the glories he had won; for they would be reflected upon me. Think of Richard Burton! When I read his wife's life of him I could so understand her love! And Lady Stanley! Did you ever read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband? These are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul, and yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honored by all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds."

She looked so beautiful in her enthusiasm that I nearly brought down the whole level of the interview. I gripped myself hard, and went on with the argument.

"We can't all be Stanleys and Burtons," said I; "besides, we don't get the chance,--at least, I never had the chance. If I did, I should try to take it."

"But chances are all around you. It is the mark of the kind of man I mean that he makes his own chances. You can't hold him back. I've never met him, and yet I seem to know him so well. There are heroisms all round us waiting to be done. It's for men to do them, and for women to reserve their love as a reward for such men. Look at that young Frenchman who went up last week in a balloon. It was blowing a gale of wind; but because he was announced to go he insisted on starting. The wind blew him fifteen hundred miles in twenty-four hours, and he fell in the middle of Russia. That was the kind of man I mean. Think of the woman he loved, and how other women must have envied her! That's what I should like to be,--envied for my man."

"I'd have done it to please you."

"But you shouldn't do it merely to please me. You should do it because you can't help yourself, because it's natural to you, because the man in you is crying out for heroic expression. Now, when you described the Wigan coal explosion last month, could you not have gone down and helped those people, in spite of the choke-damp?"

"I did."

"You never said so."

"There was nothing worth bucking about."

"I didn't know." She looked at me with rather more interest. "That was brave of you."

"I had to. If you want to write good copy, you must be where the things are."

"What a prosaic motive! It seems to take all the romance out of it. But, still, whatever your motive, I am glad that you went down that mine." She gave me her hand; but with such sweetness and dignity that I could only stoop and kiss it. "I dare say I am merely a foolish woman with a young girl's fancies. And yet it is so real with me, so entirely part of my very self, that I cannot help acting upon it. If I marry, I do want to marry a famous man!"

"Why should you not?" I cried. "It is women like you who brace men up. Give me a chance, and see if I will take it! Besides, as you say, men ought to MAKE their own chances, and not wait until they are given. Look at Clive--just a clerk, and he conquered India! By George! I'll do something in the world yet!"

She laughed at my sudden Irish effervescence. "Why not?" she said. "You have everything a man could have,--youth, health, strength, education, energy. I was sorry you spoke. And now I am glad--so glad--if it wakens these thoughts in you!"

"And if I do----"

Her dear hand rested like warm velvet upon my lips. "Not another word, Sir! You should have been at the office for evening duty half an hour ago; only I hadn't the heart to remind you. Some day, perhaps, when you have won your place in the world, we shall talk it over again."

And so it was that I found myself that foggy November evening pursuing the Camberwell tram with my heart glowing within me, and with the eager determination that not another day should elapse before I should find some deed which was worthy of my lady. But who--who in all this wide world could ever have imagined the incredible shape which that deed was to take, or the strange steps by which I was led to the doing of it?

And, after all, this opening chapter will seem to the reader to have nothing to do with my narrative; and yet there would have been no narrative without it, for it is only when a man goes out into the world with the thought that there are heroisms all round him, and with the desire all alive in his heart to follow any which may come within sight of him, that he breaks away as I did from the life he knows, and ventures forth into the wonderful mystic twilight land where lie the great adventures and the great rewards. Behold me, then, at the office of the Daily Gazette, on the staff of which I was a most insignificant unit, with the settled determination that very night, if possible, to find the quest which should be worthy of my Gladys! Was it hardness, was it selfishness, that she should ask me to risk my life for her own glorification? Such thoughts may come to middle age; but never to ardent three-and-twenty in the fever of his first love.

Shopping

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The Tapestries

vada — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 16:11:39 GMT

'A mesmerising tale of love and honour, horrors and cruelty, magic and mystery'-Washington Times

Kien Nguyen was born in Nhatrang, South Vietnam, in 1967 to a Vietnamese mother and an American father. He left Vietnam in 1985 through the United Nations' Orderly Departure Program. After spending time in a refugee camp in the Philipines, Nguyen arrived in the United States. His first book, The Unwanted, is a memoir about his childhood in Vietnam.

In this stunning novel based loosely on the life of the author's grandfather, an embroiderer in the court of the last king of Vietnam in the early 1900s, Kien Nguyen reimagines his grandfather's amazing story to weave a tapestry of his own.

Dan Nguyen is seven years old when he marries a woman twenty years his senior. More mother than wife, Ven takes care of Dan until the day he leaves his childhood for ever - when he witnesses his father's brutal beheading at the hands of the power-hungry mayor. In order to protect Dan he is old enough to defend his father's honour, Ven hides him as a servant in the house of the enemy, where he falls in love with the one person he can never have - the mayor's beautiful granddaughter Tai May. Dan's journey from child to slave to embroiderer in the royal court, where he has the chance to win Tai May's heart, is a story of spellbinding drama, intrigue and an unforgettable love affair.

Chapter One

The Wedding

HUE CITY, JANUARY 1916

During the winter months, the Perfume River was chilly, especially at dawn. The morning of Dan Nguyen's first wedding was no exception. While the sun was still hidden, its early rays reached from behind the Ngu Binh Mountain, stretching pale-yellow fingers over the sky. Thin clouds wafted by, and the wind whipped up whirlpools of mist. Damp tendrils drifted over the jungle of oak trees that climbed the steep mountainside and were lost against the horizon.
Along the side of the river, a strip of land still lay in darkness. From afar, it looked like the back of a crocodile floating in the river. A few hundred feet away, a sampan moved slowly upstream. Both sides of the boat were painted with red resin from the lacquer tree and highlighted with gold trim in large rectangular patterns - the design reserved for weddings.
At the vessel's stern, a white-haired man with stooped shoulders sat on the floor. His gnarled hands clenched an oar, and he leaned heavily into its strokes. The man seemed lost in his own world. His eyes, hidden beneath the rim of a torn conical hat, focused on the water. The faded blue peasant shirt on his back was tattered, exposing his bony ribs. Next to him hung a red lantern that illuminated a short stretch of river ahead. The faint sound of the oar moving the water echoed against the silence.
Behind the old man, in the center of the sampan, was a small cabin with a roof built of red-lacquered bamboo stalks lashed together with palm fronds. Across its entrance hung a pink silk screen on which a canary-yellow dragon entwined with its feminine mate, an equally gracious phoenix. Custom dictated that the bride must be concealed from sight. She sat behind the silk barrier, careful not to make a sound while the boat rocked to the helmsman's gentle rhythm.
Just as the sun appeared from behind the purple mountain, the old man guided his bridal sampan toward land. Sunlight broke through the clouds into thousands of tiny golden pennies. The old man squinted, searching the shoreline for a place for dock. He did not have to look far.
Just ahead, where the ground extended into the water to form a long, narrow wharf, twenty people from the groom's family stood in a single file. Most of them wore the ao dai, the ceremonial garb reserved for festivities such as this. The costumes were similar for both men and women: a tunic, made out of silk or satin, with a long skirt separated at the waist into two panels, front and back. The men wore their robes over white pants, while the women wore theirs over black - a more subservient color.
The wedding party had prepared the landing site by hanging strings of firecrackers over the branches of the tamarind trees. Upon the arrival of the sampan, the oldest men began the ceremony by burning purified joss sticks. Then they ignited the firecrackers. The red, petal-like missiles burst into the morning air, stirring flocks of sparrows from their sleep. They flapped their gray wings among the dark branches, adding their screeches to the din. The deafening sound of the explosives was believed to banish evil spirits as the groom's family prepared to accept their new daughter-in-law.

***