gotten to talking about things

That’s where I met Dr. Fontaine. Helooked after me. ... Ah, well, that’s been fifty years ago, as I said, and since that time I’ve neverbeen 　ielts ukvi afraid of anything or anybody because I’d known the worst that could happen to me. And thatlack of fear has gotten me into a lot of trouble and cost me a lot of happiness. God intended womento be timid frightened creatures and there’s something unnatural about woman who isn’t afraid. ... Scarlett, always save something to fear— even as you save something (a) to love. ...”
Her voice trailed off and she stood silent with eyes looking back over half a century to the daywhen she had been afraid. Scarlett moved impatiently. She had thought Grandma was going tounderstand and perhaps show her some way to solve her problems. But like all old people she’d that happened before anyone was born, things no one was interestedin. Scarlett wished she had not confided in her.
“Well, go home, child, or they’ll be worrying about you,” she said suddenly. “Send Pork withthe wagon this afternoon. ... And don’t think you can lay down the load, ever. Because you can’t. Iknow.”
Indian summer lingered into November that year and the warm days were bright days for thoseat Tara. The worst was over　. They had a horse now and they could ride instead of walk. They hadfried eggs for breakfast and fried ham for supper to vary the monotony of the yams, peanuts anddried apples, and on one festal occasion they even had roast chicken. The old sow had finally beencaptured and she and her brood rooted and grunted happily under the house where they werepenned. Sometimes they squealed so loudly no one in the house could talk but it was a pleasantsound. It meant fresh pork for the white folks and chitterlings for the negroes when cold weatherand hog-killing time should arrive, and it meant food for the winter for all.
Scarlett’s visit to the Fontaines had heartened her more than she realized. Just the knowledgethat she had neighbors, that some of the family friends and old homes had survived, drove out theterrible loss and alone feeling which had oppressed her in her first weeks at Tara. And theFontaines and Tarletons, whose plantations had not been in the path of the army, were mostgenerous in sharing what little they had. It was the tradition of the County that neighbor helpedneighbor and they refused to　Neo skin lab accept a penny from Scarlett, telling her that she would do the samefor them and she could pay them back,

viewdown the road to the river

“Not for honor and glory, certainly. War is a dirty business and I do not like dirt. I am not asoldier and I have no desire to seek the bubble reputation even in

the cannon’s mouth. Yet, here Iam at the wars—whom God never intended to be other than a studious country gentleman. For　,Melanie, bugles do not stir my blood nor

drums entice my feet and I see too clearly that we havebeen betrayed, betrayed by our arrogant Southern selves, believing that one of us could whip adozen Yankees,

believing that King Cotton could rule the world. Betrayed, too, by words and catchphrases, prejudices and hatreds coming from the mouths of those highly placed,

those men whomwe respected and revered—‘King Cotton, Slavery, States’ Rights, Damn Yankees.’
“And so when I lie on my blanket and look up at the stars and say ‘What are you fighting for?’
think of States’ Rights and cotton and the darkies and the Yankees whom we have been bred tohate, and I know that none of these is the reason why I am fighting.

Instead, I see Twelve Oaks andremember how the moonlight slants across the white columns, and the unearthly way themagnolias look, opening under　the moon, and how

the climbing roses make the side porch shadyeven at the hottest noon. And I see Mother, sewing there, as she did when I was a little boy. And I hear the darkies

coming home across the fields at dusk, tired and singing and ready for supper, andthe sound of the windlass as the bucket goes down into the cool well. And there’s

the long , across the cotton fields, and the mist rising from the bottom lands in thetwilight. And that is why I’m here who have no

love of death or misery or glory and no hatred foranyone. Perhaps that is what is called patriotism, love of home and country. But Melanie, it goesdeeper than that.

For, Melanie, these things I have named are but the symbols of the thing forwhich I risk my life, symbols of the kind of life I love. For I am fighting for the old

days, the oldways I love so much but which, I fear, are now gone forever, no matter how the die may fall. For,win or lose, we lose just the same.
“If we win this war and have the Cotton Kingdom of our dreams, we still have lost, for we willbecome a different people and the old quiet ways will go. The world

will be at our doors clamoringfor cotton and we can command our own price. Then, I fear, we will become like the Yankees, atwhose money-making activities,

acquisitiveness and commercialism we now sneer. And if we lose,Melanie, if we lose!
“I am not afraid of danger or capture or wounds or even death, if death must come　MOOC, but I do fearthat once this war is over, we will never get back to the old times.

And I belong in those old times.