through an agreement signed with the Global Alliance for Vaccines and Immunization (GAVI), India intends to provide a total of 45 million doses of new crown vaccine products to neighboring Pakistan, of which 16 million will be released this year. Delivery in June. This unusual cooperation between the two countries is currently in the “procedural” stage. Indian media emphasized that the vaccine products will be shipped directly from India to Pakistan. According to the report, an unnamed Indian official said: “India is open to providing humanitarian aid to Pakistan.”
According to the “India Express”, affected by geopolitical factors, India-Pakistan relations have continued to deteriorate in the past two years, and bilateral trade has almost ceased, but the supply of “life-saving medicines” such as vaccines will be specially handled. The public opinion of the two countries reacted complicatedly to the incident. Many Indian netizens “pantothenic acid” said that providing such a huge amount of vaccine products to an unfriendly neighbor is “losing a big loss”. After all, the country’s vaccination work is still moving forward. Pakistan’s “Dawn” previously regarded India’s move to supply vaccines everywhere as “vaccine diplomacy”, and believed that this move was a struggle for international diplomatic influence. However, some Twitter netizens said that in the face of disease and humanitarian crises, countries should abandon political prejudices and work together.
the meantime there was no happiness in the small town on that quiet Saturday afternoon. The Harper family and Aunt Polly, including their own, were in mourning clothes with many tears. An unusual silence lay over the little town, in which one generally couldn’t complain about too much noise and gusto. People went about their business with distracted expressions, talking little and often sighing. Even the children didn’t seem to enjoy school freedom this Saturday. There was no move in their games, and soon they gave up on them altogether.
In the afternoon Becky Thatcher crept around the abandoned schoolhouse, feeling very melancholy. But even there she found no consolation. She spoke softly to herself:
“If only I could find his brass button again! Now I have no reminder of him at all, ”and she suppressed a low sob.
Then she stopped and said thoughtfully:
“Right here it was. Oh, if it happened again, I would never say that again – never again, not for everyone. But now he’s gone and I’ll never, never, never see him again! ”
This thought robbed her of her final composure and with streaming tears she crept away. Now a whole group of boys and girls, Tom and Joe’s playmates, appeared in the schoolyard; they spoke in a low, gloomy tone of the two lost, what Tom did and said the last time they saw him, and how Joe smiled and what he said; every slightest little thing now seemed to have a foreboding omnipresent. Each speaker designated the exact place where the missing stood at that time and then each time it followed: “And I stood there, straight ‘as before, and the one where you are standing, just’ so close ‘and he smiled – so – and me it ran very cold down my spine – really horrible – I didn’t know why then, but now it’s clear to me.
Now a dispute arose over who had last seen them in life, and many tore over this sad award, for which they presented evidence that the witnesses found more or less credible. Finally, after a long debate, it was finally decided who had exchanged the last words with the disappeared, and the lucky winners thereby acquired a dignity and importance which aroused the admiration and envy of others. A poor little fellow, who otherwise had no distinction of any kind, said with obvious pride at the mere memory:
“Me, Tom Sawyer beat me up once.”
But this attempt to achieve fame turned out to be utterly unsuccessful. Most boys could boast of it, and that made the award too much in value. The group trotted off, exchanging new memories of the lost heroes in low tones.
The next morning, when Sunday school was over, the bell began to ring with a hollow, muffled sound instead of ringing solemnly as it usually did. It was an unusually quiet Sabbath and the plaintive tone matched the thoughtful, solemn calm that lay over the whole of nature. The townspeople went to church and lingered in the vestibule for a moment to talk in whispers about the sad event. In the church itself, however, it was dead quiet, only the rustling of women’s robes broke the silence. No one could remember ever seeing the little church so full. There was a deep, expectant pause, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary and the Harper family, all in the deepest black. The whole congregation together with the clergyman rose respectfully from their seats until the mourners had stepped through their ranks and had taken their places in the front bench. Again there was deep silence, only broken here and there by stifled sobs, then the priest raised his voice and prayed. A poignant song was sung, then the sermon followed.
In his sermon the clergyman painted such a brilliant picture of the virtues, kindness, and promising talents of the lost that each of the listeners, honestly believing they recognized this faithful image, felt a stab in the heart at the thought of how he himself was persistently blind to all these advantages, and just as persistently he was only able to discover faults and defects in the poor boy. Now many a touching, generous trait followed from the life of the departed, which was supposed to confirm and prove what had been predicted, and it was only now that everyone’s eyes and understanding of how great and sublime those small incidents actually occurred who at the time seemed to them to be worthy of a good beating as the worst tricks and devils. The meeting became more and more agitated the further the clergyman advanced in his pathetic speech, until finally the whole company lost all composure and demeanor and joined in full chorus to the sobs and sighs of the bereaved bereaved. Yes, the priest himself was overwhelmed by his feelings, he fell silent and wept in the open pulpit.
There was a rustling from the upstairs church, to which no one paid any attention. A moment later a door creaked, the clergyman raised his streaming eyes over the handkerchief and – stood and stared as if petrified! First a pair of eyes followed his, then a second, and suddenly, as if inspired by a common drive, the whole congregation rose and stared at the three “dead” boys who were marching leisurely up the aisle, Tom first, Joe behind him, at last Huck, a walking ruin in rags. The three of them had been hidden in that unused gallery and had overheard their own eulogy!
Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers pounced on their returned gifts and almost suffocated them with kisses and hugs. But poor Huck stood by, stupid and timid, did not know what to do or where to hide from so many staring eyes, not one of which offered him a welcome. He half turned and tried to sneak away, but Tom caught him and called:
“Aunt Polly, that is not right and not nice. Someone has to be happy that Huck is back. ”
“We have to, Tom, my boy, and we want it too, poor parentless child!” But if anything could add to the feeling of discomfort at Huck, it was the tenderness with which Aunt Polly showered him.
Suddenly the clergyman called into the noise with all his lungs:
“Praise the Lord, the mighty King of Honor! – Now sing! – But hearty! ”
And they sang. The old, noble song of praise and thanks rang out triumphantly, with a mighty sound, the tones rose and swelled and seemed to shake the foundations of the building. Tom Sawyer, the pirate, looked around, saw all eyes fixed on him, and felt that this was the proudest moment of his life.
When the congregation left the church, everyone said that they would love to indulge their hearts again, only to hear “Praise the Lords” sing so uplifting again.
So that was Tom’s big secret: the plan to return home with his cronies and attend their own funeral service. In the evening they had swam on an old tree trunk to the Missouri bank, landed five or six miles below the town, slept until daylight in the forest that bordered the town, then crept through a few side streets to the church, where they completed their sleep in the gallery, in the midst of a chaos of rickety old church pews.
At breakfast on Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were especially affectionate to Tom and attentive to his wishes. There was an unusual amount of talk. As the conversation progressed, Aunt Polly said:
“Well, Tom, I don’t mean to say that it didn’t have to be a capital pass for you boys to know we were all worried and sorrowful while you were out there. But that you could be so hard-hearted, Tom, and let me fidget and grieve, that, Tom, I wouldn’t have thought that of you! If you could have come over to hear your own funeral speech, you should have given me a little hint beforehand that you were not dead, but only ran away. ”
“Yes, Tom, that is true, you should have done that,” agreed Mary, “and you would have done it too, if you had thought of it, – don’t you?”
“Yes, Tom?” Asked Aunt Polly, whose face became much clearer at Mary’s words, “tell me, would you really have done it if you had thought of it?”
“I – yes, I don’t know, I – eh, that would have spoiled everything.”
“Tom, I always thought you’d at least love me that much,” said Aunt Polly in a very reproachful, sad tone, although the boy was not at all comfortable. “It would have been something if you had only thought of it without doing it.”
“Well, Auntie,” said Mary soothingly, “that’s just Tom’s fleeting manner – he’s always so hasty and eager that he never thinks of anything.”
“Even worse. Sid would have thought of it and Sid would have come and done it. Tom, you will think back to it again when it’s too late and wish that you would have been better off against your old aunt, when so little belongs to it, me – ”
“Come on, aunty, you know that I love you, you must know, right?” Flattered Tom.
“Would know better if you showed it better.”
“I wish I would have thought of it,” said Tom pensively and with a rueful tone, “at least I dreamed of you. That’s something, isn’t it? Oh, on Wednesday night I dreamed that you were all sitting there by the bed, Sid was sitting on the wooden box and Mary was right next to it. ”
“Yes, and that’s how it was – as usual. I am glad that you at least tried to think of us in your dream. ”
“Yes, and Joe Harper’s mother was there too, I dreamed.”
“It really was, my lord, – well, what next, Tom, what next?”
“Much more, but everything is so confused now.”
“Well, think about it, try it, can’t you?”
“Wait a minute, I mean the wind – the wind would have blown something -”
“Blown out, no Tom, better reflect, the wind -”
“Right, wait, now I’ve got it. The wind made the light flicker and – ”
“Lord, have mercy! – Go on Tom, go on! ”
“Well, I think you said: ‘What, look at the door -‘”
“Go on Tom!”
“Wait a moment, just a moment! Oh yes, now I have it – you said they should look at the door, it was open – ”
“As I sit here, do I say, is Mary? Continue!”
“Then – then – of course I don’t know anymore, but I mean, you would have told Sid to close it and – and -”
“Something like that is no longer alive! Lord you my god. Just don’t tell me anymore that dreams are foams. The harpers should hear that before I’m an hour older! I would like to know how she will talk her way out of there with her nonsense of superstition, about which she gossips so well. Go on, Tom! ”
“Well, now everything is clear to me like sunshine! Then you said I wasn’t bad, just mad and full of devils and nonsense, I don’t know what I’m doing any more than like a – a – a fill, I mean, was it, or something. ”
“Right, right. Great Almighty God! Go on, Tom! ”
“Then you cried -”
“God knows, God knows, and not for the first time. Then – ”
“Then Joe’s mother started crying too and said it was the same with her Joe and she just wanted her to have him not waxed through around the old cream that she threw away herself – ”
“Tom, Tom! The spirit was over you! That is pure inspiration, nothing else! God have mercy on me! – Go on, Tom! ”
“Then Sid came along and said -”
“I don’t think I said anything,” said Sid quickly.
“Yes, Sid, yes,” corrected Mary.
“Be silent and let Tom talk! What did Sid say, Tom? ”
“He said – well, yes, he hope I’m better where I am, but when I’m better sometimes -”
“Well, what do you say now?” Aunt Polly triumphed. “His own words!”
“And you, aunty, you hit him badly, you -”
“I am, God knows, I am! An angel must have overheard us: A holy heavenly angel must have been hidden somewhere! ”
“And then Mrs. Harper told how Joe burned a crush under her nose, and you told about Peter and the ‘pain killer’.”
“As true as I live!”
“And then you all talked at each other about how to search the river for us and that the funeral service should be on Sunday, and then you hugged, Mrs. Harper and you, and cried, and then she went away.”
“That’s how it was, that’s how it was! As sure as I’m sitting here on my chair! Tom, you couldn’t have told it better if you had been there. And then what? Go on, Tom! ”
“And then you prayed for me, I saw you and heard every word. Then you went to bed and I was so sad that I took a piece of bark and wrote on it: ‘We’re not dead, we just left to become pirates.’ I put that on the table by the light and you looked so good and so sad as you lay there and slept that I had to bend over you and kiss you. ”
‘Did you do that, Tom, really and truly? – That’s why I want to forgive you everything, everything! “And she grabbed the boy in an almost suffocating embrace and Tom had the consciousness of a wretched, pathetic villain.
“It was kind and nice,” muttered Sid, the others heard, “but – but only in a dream!”
“Shut up, Sid, in dreams you only do what you would do while awake. Here you have a beautiful Goldreinetten apple, Tom, I kept it for you in case you should ever be found again – now go to school! How grateful I am to our God and Father that I have you again. He is merciful and gracious to those who believe in him and keep his commandments, although God knows I am an unworthy vessel of his goodness. But if he only wanted to give his blessing to those who deserve it and help them in need and tribulation, one would no longer hear a happy tone down here, and few would come to his rest when the long night comes one day. So, now get out of here, Sid, Mary, Tom – you’ve held me up long enough. ”
The children trotted to school and the old lady got ready to see Mrs. Harper and conquer her disbelief with Tom’s wonderful dream. Sid was too smart to let the thought grow loud as he left the house. That thought was:
“Quite transparent – such a long dream and without the tiniest, smallest mistake! If not – ”
What a hero Tom had become! He no longer skipped and galloped when he was walking in the street, but with the dignified demeanor befitting a past pirate, he strutted along, knowing that the public eye was on him. That was indeed the case. He did try to pretend not to see the looks, as if he did not hear the comments while he was walking along, and yet they were nectar and ambrosia to him. Smaller boys followed his footsteps in troops, proud to be seen with him, to be tolerated by him, who marched along at their head like the drum major at the head of his company. Boys his age pretended not to know that he had been gone at all, but were still consumed with envy. They would have given anything World famous fame, but Tom would not have given either of these two factors, not for everything – not for a circus!
At school there was so much fuss about him and Joe, such astonishment, such admiration shone in the eyes of both of them that the two heroes soon showed an unbearable pomposity. They began to describe their adventures to the eagerly listening listeners – but without ever getting beyond the beginning, for such a story could have no end when an imagination like theirs always provided inexhaustible material. When they finally took out their pipes and began to smoke with the greatest impartiality, the pinnacle of fame had been reached.
Tom decided to make himself independent from Becky Thatcher. Fame was enough for him, he asked no more about love. He wanted to dedicate his life to glory. Now that he has become a famous hero, she might be trying to make peace, he thought. But she should see that he could be at least as indifferent as other people. That’s where she came. Tom pretended not to notice her. He turned away to a group of boys and girls with whom he began to chat eagerly. He soon saw that she was tripping around with glowing cheeks and shining eyes, teasing her companions, chasing them around, and shrieking with laughter when she caught one. He also noticed that this was mostly the case in his immediate neighborhood and that her gaze always struck him. That flattered his sinful vanity and instead of being reconciled by it, he only pretended to know nothing of their existence. Immediately she gave up romping around, undecidedly pushed herself from one group to the other, sighed once or twice and looked furtively and meaningfully at Tom. Now she noticed that he was busy with Anny Lorenz. A sudden pain flashed through her, she suspected nothing good. She tried to steal away, but her feet became traitors and instead carried her straight towards the group. She called out to a girl standing close to Tom with exaggerated vivacity:
“Well, Mary Austin, you bad girl, why didn’t you go to Sunday school yesterday?”
“I was there – didn’t you see me?”
“No! Have you really been there Where did you sit? ”
‘In Miss Peters’ class, wherever I sit. I saw you.”
“Really? No, how funny that I didn’t see you, I wanted to tell you about the picnic. ”
“Oh, that’s funny! Who wants to give one? ”
“My mom wants to allow me to hold one.”
“That is splendid – I hope I can come too?”
“Naturally. It’s my picnic. Anyone I want can come, and I want you. ”
“No how lovely! When should it be? ”
“Soon. Maybe before the holidays. ”
“Will it be fun! Are you going to invite everyone? ”
“Of course, everyone who is – or wants to be – my friends,” a furtive glance met Tom; But he chatted with Anny Lorenz about the storm on the island and how lightning had felled the large sycamore and tore it into splinters, ‘not three paces away from him’.
“May I come too?” Grace Miller asked.
“And me?” Asked Sally Rogers.
“Me too?” Said Susanne Harper, “and my Joe too?”
And with cheers and clapping hands, everyone in the group had asked for permission except for Tom and Anny. Chatting on and on, he turned coolly away and took Anny with him. Becky’s lips trembled, tears welled up in her eyes. With an effort she hid these signs of heartache under forced vivacity, continued babbling and laughing, but the picnic had now lost all charm for her and everything else in addition. As soon as she could, she crept away, hid and cried herself out once and for all. Then she sat sullen and deeply hurt until the school bell rang. That shook her up, and with a vengeful look she jumped up, straightened her long pigtails, and was now clear about what she had to do.
During the intermission, Tom continued his skirmishing with Anny, full of exultant complacency. He always tried to keep close to Becky in order to torture her with the sight. At first he didn’t find her; at last he spied her and lo and behold – his thermometer sank, sank to the bottom. There she was sitting very comfortably on a bench behind the schoolhouse, sitting and looking at a picture book with Alfred Tempel. The two of them were so immersed, and their heads were so close together over the book, that they seemed to notice nothing of what was going on around them in the wide world. Jealousy trickled hot through Tom’s veins. He hated himself for missing the opportunity Becky gave him to become good friends again. He called himself a fool a fool and what kind of lovely titles are. He almost cried with anger. Anny continued to chatter merrily, because her heart was exulting and rejoicing, while Tom’s tongue almost refused to work. Hardly did he hear what Anny was chatting, and every time she paused, awaiting his answer, he uttered an absent-minded “yes” or “no,” and mostly in the wrong place. Again and again he directed his steps towards the back of the schoolhouse, as if his eyes were drawn to the hated spectacle. He was drawn against his will, and it almost made him mad that Becky Thatcher didn’t seem remotely even thinking that he was still among the living. But she saw him very well, knew that she would remain victorious in the fight, was glad that he was suffering, and indeed worse than she had suffered before. Anny’s unsuspecting, happy chat became unbearable. Tom indicated that he had something to do and that he had to go, that time was running out – in vain, the girl went on chatting. Tom thought: ‘The cuckoo fetch her; the promise to wait for him after school. He hurried away, furious.
“Every other boy,” thought Tom, gritting his teeth, “every other boy in town, just not that one . A neat monkey who thinks he’s God knows what and thinks he’s much better than ours. Alright If I thrashed you through on the first day, when you barely smelled into town, you mirror of virtues, I’ll still manage it now. Wait, if I catch you alone, it’ll work! ”
In zeal he thrashed around as if he already had the enemy under his fists – waved around in the air and struck out with hands and feet.
“Well, are you satisfied now, fellow, eh? Scream ‘enough, enough’ I tell you! There run and next time watch out! ”
With that, the imaginary chastisement ended, much to Tom’s satisfaction.
During the lunch break, Tom fled home. He could no longer watch Anny’s bliss and endure the agony of jealousy any longer. Becky had gone back to looking at the pictures with Alfred, but when minute by minute passed and no Tom showed up to be annoyed, her triumph diminished and it was no longer important to her. At first she became serious and absent-minded, then deeply depressed. She pricked up her ears two or three times when a step approached, but each time it was a vain hope. At last she felt very miserable and wished dearly that she hadn’t taken it so far. Poor Alfred, who saw that she imperceptibly withdrew from him, encouraged her on and on: “Look, there is something beautiful here, just look here, turn, leave me alone, ”burst into tears and ran away.
Alfred held himself chivalrously by her side and tried to comfort her. But she hurled at him:
“Leave me in peace; I can not stand you!”
So the boy stayed back and pondered what he could have done for her, for she had promised him beforehand that she would look at pictures with him during the whole lunch break. But she ran on, crying all the time. Alfred crept thoughtfully back into the lonely classroom; he was very humiliated and angry, for now it dawned on him that the girl had only used him to vent her anger on Tom Sawyer. This conviction did not make him prefer Tom. He longed for an opportunity to break something into this man, of course without exposing himself. Then Tom’s reading book caught his eye and a thought suddenly shot through his head. He opened the book where they would need that afternoon and poured ink over it. Becky, who peeked through the window behind him at the same moment saw everything but did not give herself away. She turned home, intending to find Tom and tell him everything, then they would be good friends again in no time. But before she was halfway home, she had changed her mind. The thought of the way Tom treated her when she talked about her picnic suddenly struck her again with ardent embarrassment. She made up her mind to give him a beating for the smeared book and, on top of that, to hate and detest him from the bottom of her heart forever and ever. The thought of the way Tom treated her when she talked about her picnic came back to her with fiery shame. She resolved to give him a beating for the smeared book and, on top of that, to hate and detest him from the bottom of her heart forever and ever. The thought of the way Tom treated her when she talked about her picnic came back to her with fiery shame. She resolved to give him a beating for the smeared book and, on top of that, to hate and detest him from the bottom of her heart forever and ever.