I yearn for companionship. Even the mere sight of a human form is a relief. Every morning, after breakfast, I eagerly listen for the familiar swish-swash on the flagstones of the hallway: it is the old rangeman "sweeping up." The sensitive mouth puckered up in an inaudible whistle, the one-armed prisoner swings the broom with his left, the top of the handle pressed under the armpit. "Hello, Aleck! How're you feeling to-day? He stands opposite my cell, at the further end of the wall, the broom suspended in mid-stroke. I catch an occasional glance of the kind blue eyes, while his head is in constant motion, turning to right and left, alert for the approach of a guard. "How're you, Aleck?" Oh, nothing extra." "I know how it is, Aleck, I've been through the mill. Keep up your nerve, you'll be all right, old boy. You're young yet." "Old enough to die," I say, bitterly. "S-sh! Don't speak so loud. The screw's got lon...
A Voice of Ireland
Yes-tear down our homes! leave the hearthstone cold As the hearts of you who have laid it bare; And stone from stone let the walls be rolled, And our home be one with the outer air, Heap wrong on wrong! We have had to bear More wrongs than ever our tongues can tell; One right is left us-we still forbear, O England, to use it-the right to rebel! We have borne so much that a little more, You think, may be borne by us unrepaid? And our backs must bow as they bowed before, While on quivering flesh are the lashes laid? O England, are you never afraid Of us you have tortured so long and so well? Do you never doubt which the Fates would aid- Of us or you-if we rose to rebel? Do you ne... (From : AnarchyArchives.)