stration show China had 5,354 museums by the end of 2018, and museums across the country held some 2

6,000 exhibitions in 2018 and received 1.126 billion people, an increase of 30 percent and 16 percent, respectively.

The International Council of Museums organized the annual I

nternational Museum Day in 1977 to address the changing roles of museums.

Museums across the world are reinventing their roles to become more interacti

ve, audience focused and active in delivering creativity and knowledge to their communities.School students and adult

visitors learn about making prints and carving stamp seals and learn about the appreciation of and technological me

thods being used in the conservation of the age-old buildings at the Palace Museum, May 1

xujiaqing.net.cn

The Second Beilun River Bridge opened to traffic on March 19. It connects the Chinese city of Dongxing with the Vietn

amese city of Mong Cai, two important trade cities along the border between the two countries.

The new bridge spans 549 meters across the border river between China and Vietnam and is built to the first-class high

way standard. Construction started in 2014 and was completed in late 2017, costing a total of 220 million yuan ($33 million).

The bridge will greatly alleviate traffic burden on the First Beilun River Bridge three kilometers away, whi

ch was previously the only means of shipping personnel and cargo to or from Dongxing Checkpoint.

Statistics from immigration authorities show that 12.19 million people and 47,05

6 vehicles passed over the old bridge in 2018, far beyond its maximum capacity.

The new bridge is now designated for freight vehicles, while the First Be

ilun River Bridge is reserved for personnel. This could save 30 minutes or more in custo

ms clearance time for each consignment, according to Huang Xiong, deputy chief of Dongxing Customs.

www.ashddd.com

  ucker Carlson portrayed himself as the victim of a “mob” on Monday night. And he said Fox News has his back.

  ”We will never bow to the mob. Ever. No matter what,” he said.

  At the exact same time, on MSNBC, the progressive group Media Matters for America

shared even more examples of offensive remarks made by Carlson on a shock jock radio show.

  The “Bubba the Love Sponge Show” audio clips are from 2006 to 2011. Media Matt

ers is circulating them now as part of a pressure campaign against Fox’s advertisers.

  Without naming the anti-Fox group, Carlson said on Monday nig

ht that “they’ve been working hard to kill this show” ever since it premiered in 2016.

  When Carlson handed off to Sean Hannity, the two men complained about the scrutiny.

  ”There is a mob that wants to destroy only Fox,” Hannity said.

dyrbrn.cn

  When it comes to lip-synching is also a lot of net friend hate to hear one thing, becau

se of lip-synching is very not accustomed to, also can cause a lot of controv

ersy and criticism, especially at first glance, some stars lip-synching, also can cause users to anger, for instance, rec

ently took the microphone lip-synching, bumps is also sparked controversy

  Not only this performance led to a net friend once again recently attention and controver

sy, but this time the lip-synching is not others, but with a lot of attention and popularity and mainland act

or wang Lin Yun, they two people but also for their own work to harvest a lot of popularity

  Performance at a party recently, however, netizens have pointed out that t

wo people at the scene of lip-synching, not only that, the two lip-synching app

earance is also very realistic enough, that is very netizen comment in succession

changhaisheng.cn

Iron Emmett’s lads were well at it in the yard, blunted swords slamming into shields and ringing against one another.

Jon stopped to watch a moment as Horse pressed Hop-Robin back toward the well. Horse had the makings of a

good fighter, he decided. He was strong and getting stronger, and his instincts were sound. Hop-Robin was another tale. His clubfoot was bad enough, but he was

afraid of getting hit as well. Perhaps we can make a steward of him. The fight ended abruptly, with Hop-Robin on the ground.

“Well fought,” Jon said to Horse, “but you drop your shield too low when pressing an attack. You will want to correct that, or it is like to get you killed.”

“Yes, m’lord. I’ll keep it higher next time.” Horse pulled Hop-Robin to his feet, and the smaller boy made a clumsy bow.

A few of Stannis’s knights were sparring on the far side of the yard. King’s men in one corner and queen’s men in another,

Jon did not fail to note, but only a few. It’s too cold for most of them. As he strode past them, a booming voice called after him. “BOY! YOU THERE! BOY!”

Just beyond the ticket booth Father had had painted on awall in bright red letters the question:

DO YOU KNOW WHICH IS THE MOSTDANGEROUS ANIMAL IN THE ZOO?
An arrow pointed to a small curtain. There were so manyeager, curious hands

that pulled at the curtain that we had toreplace it regularly. Behind it was a mirror.

But I learned at my expense that Father believed there wasanother animal even more dangerous than us, and one thatwas extremely common, too,

found on every continent, in everyhabitat: the redoubtable species Animalus anthropomorphicus,the animal as seen through human eyes. We’ve all met

one,perhaps even owned one. It is an animal that is “cute”,”friendly”, “loving”, “devoted”, “merry”, “under-standing”.

 

Theseanimals lie in

ambush in every

toy store and

children’s zoo.

shlf20.com

Not Sly. Haggon would have called it abomination, but Varamyr had often slipped inside her skin as she was being mounted by One Eye. He did not want to spend his

new life as a bitch, though, not unless he

had no other choice. Stalker might suit him better, the younger male … though One Eye was larger and fiercer, and it was One Eye who took Sly whenever she went into heat.

“They say you forget,” Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. “When the man’s flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his

memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains.”

“Wonder what happened to her face,” was57 her mental question, but the answer was doubtless any one of a dozen possibilities and she didn’t waste time in surmises.

Mrs. Pollzoff took up the speaking tube and Roberta attached the end so she could hear what was to be said.

“You have an exceptionally fine plane,” Mrs. Pollzoff remarked.

“I think so,” Roberta answered with a smile.

“Care to sell it?” The girl was so astonished that she gasped.

“No, indeed, I do not,” she answered emphatically.

Not Sly. Haggon would have called it abomination, but Varamyr had often slipped inside her skin as she was being mounted by One Eye. He did not want to spend his

new life as a bitch, though, not unless he had no other choice. Stalker might suit him better, the younger male … though One Eye was larger and fiercer, and it was One Eye who took Sly whenever she went into heat.

“They say you forget,” Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. “When the man’s flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until

nothing of the

man is left

and only the

beast remains.”

qianpadac.com

Far away, a wolf gave howl.

A shiver went through Varamyr. He knew that howl as well as Lump had once known his mother’s voice. One Eye. He was the oldest of his three, the biggest, the

fiercest. Stalker was leaner, quicker, younger, Sly more cunning, but both went in fear of One Eye. The old wolf was fearless, relentless, savage.

Varamyr had lost control of his other beasts in the agony of the eagle’s death. His shadowcat had raced into the woods, whilst his snow bear turned her claws on those

around her, ripping apart four men before falling to a spear. She would have slain Varamyr had he come within her reach. The bear hated him, had raged each time he wore her skin or climbed upon her back.

His wolves, though …

“That’s what we want,” Mrs. Langwell told him, then turned to her daughter. “That is our telephone, dear.”

“I’ll go and answer it,” Roberta replied, and ran to the house as fast as she could. The bell was still ringing so she knew that the party had not been discouraged over the

delay and given up getting in touch with the family. “Hello,” she spoke into the phone.

“I wish to speak with Miss Langwell,” came the reply, and although the voice sounded familiar, Roberta could not recognize it immediately.

“That’s what we want,” Mrs. Langwell told him, then turned to her daughter. “That is our telephone, dear.”

“I’ll go and answer it,” Roberta replied, and ran to the house as fast as she could. The bell was still ringing so she knew that the party had not been discouraged over the

delay and given up getting in touch with the family. “Hello,” she spoke into the phone.

“I wish to speak with Miss Langwell,” came the reply, and although the voice sounded familiar,

 

Roberta

could not

recognize it

immediately.

www.qianpadas.com

Her chin was pointed and her nose flat, and she had a mole on one cheek with four dark hairs growing from it. An ugly face, and hard, yet he would have given much to

glimpse it in the door of the hut. I should have taken her before she left. How long had she been gone? Two days? Three? Varamyr was uncertain. It was dark inside the

hut, and he had been drifting in and out of sleep, never quite sure if it was day or night outside. “Wait,” she’d said. “I will be back with food.” So like a fool he’d waited,

dreaming of Haggon and Bump and all the wrongs he had done in his long life, but days and nights had passed and Thistle had not returned. She won’t be coming back.

Varamyr wondered if he had given himself away. Could she tell what he was thinking just from looking at him, or had he muttered in his fever dream?

“Say it with flowers,” the lad chuckled. “Come along. As long as I live I may never get another chance to have a sheriff in the saddle behind me. How I wish a cop would try to stop me on this trip.”

The pair went off amid the reports of the motorcycle, and then the neighbors, assured that the Langwells were unhurt and in no further danger, departed. Before

she went to bed Roberta took another look at the old barn-hangar where Nike and the Falcon were still resting securely. With a sigh of relief she glanced toward the

sky, which was mighty dark, but she caught the faint outline

“Good morning, dear, I thought I heard you moving about.”

“Morning, Mummy. What are they doing out there?”

of the moon

shining

through as if s

he had49

www.qianpadao.com

Varamyr might have been amongst them if only he’d been stronger. The sea was grey and cold and far away, though, and he knew that he would never live to see it. He

 

 

was nine times dead and dying, and this would be his true death. A squirrel-skin cloak, he remembered, he knifed me for a squirrel-skin cloak.

“Don’t go out,” Mrs. Langwell urged as her husband began to don his trousers hastily under his robe.

“It’s quite safe,” he assured her. Before he was ready there came a pounding at the door—alarmed voices shouted, “You people all right, Langwell?”

“That’s Mr. Howard. He’s the sheriff of the county and must have been in the neighborhood.”

“I’ll be right down,” Mrs. Langwell called. Presently the officer of the law was standing in the hall, while she explained what had happened.

“Glad nobody’s hurt, least-wise, none of you folks. I’ll go out and have a look44 around.” There was a business-like gun in his hand and his chin was set firmly.

“I’m coming with you,” Mr. Langwell called from the top of the stairs as he hurried to join the sheriff.

“I’m coming too, Dad.”

“Stay with your mother, please,” he answered, so Roberta obeyed.

“There isn’t a thing you can do out there, Honey,” Mrs. Langwell assured her. “And you might get in the way.”

So the girl had to be content to remain inside, while sounds of people running, sharp questions, brief answers, and the noise of automobiles stopping while the occupants

demanded to know what was the difficulty came to them from outside. Half an hour later Mr. Langwell came back with the sheriff and their nearest neighbor, and

although they were greatly excited, they had discovered nothing more than some footprints of the robbers, and the place where a large car had been parked by the

side of the road, obviously waiting to assist

the thieve

in their

from the scene

of their mischief.

www.gzbbat.com

Then the pack was on them.

His one-eyed brother knocked the tooth-thrower back into a snowdrift and tore his throat out as he struggled. His sister

slipped behind the other male and took him from the rear. That left the female and her pup for him.

She had a tooth too, a little one made of bone, but she dropped it when the warg’s jaws closed around her leg. As she fell,

she wrapped both arms around her noisy pup. Underneath her furs the female was just skin and bones, but her dugs were

full of milk. The sweetest meat was on the pup. The wolf saved the choicest parts for his brother. All around the

carcasses, the frozen snow turned pink and red as the pack filled its bellies.

It was on my own, a guilty pleasure, that I returned to thesea, beckoned by the mighty waves that crashed down

andreached for me in humble tidal ripples, gentle lassos thatcaught their willing Indian boy.

My gift to Mamaji one birthday, I must have been thirteenor so, was two full lengths of credible butterfly. I finished sospent I could hardly wave to him.

Beyond the activity of swimming, there was the talk of it. Itwas the talk that Father loved. The more vigorously he

resistedactually swimming, the more he fancied it. Swim lore was hisvacation talk from the workaday talk of running a zoo.

Waterwithout a hippopotamus was so much more manageable thanwater with one.

Mamaji studied in Paris for two years, thanks to the colonialadministration. He had the time of his life. This was in

theearly 1930s, when the French were still trying to makePondicherry as Gallic as the British were trying to make

therest of India Britannic. I don’t recall exactly what Mamajistudied. Something commercial, I suppose. He was a

greatstoryteller, but forget about his studies or the Eiffel Tower orthe Louvre or the cafés of the Champs-Elysées. All his storieshad to do

 

with swimming

pools and

swimming

competitions.

www.gzbbat.com