social justice

"Ah," said the old man, pointing to the Museum, "I have read books and papers in there, telling strange stories indeed of the dealings of civilisation (or organised misery) with 'non-civilisation'; from the time when the British Government deliberately sent blankets infected with small-pox as choice gifts to inconvenient tribes of Red-skins, to the time when Africa was infested by a man named Stanley, who—”

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oh utopia, where the River Thames is so clean that it sparkles.

Always fun to jump in a river or a lake wherever one goes:

"he paddled away quietly as I peeled for my swim. As we went, I looked down on the water, and couldn’t help saying—

'How clear the water is this morning!'"