Why live I wretch alas (quoth he) where all good luck is geazon?

He crinkled the wrapper and threw it out.

The soldier is not unfrequently destitute of portions of his uniform, or his regimental coat and continuations are in such hopeless rags, that even in the sultry summer the slate-coloured great-coat is worn as a hide-all and slut-cover, like the begrimed blanket of a Mexican lépero. Clumsy gaiters, ill-buttoned and discoloured, descend over shoes which, in one case out of three, are broken in pieces, disclosing to view the naked toes of the men—such in Spain are the glories of the vida military!

There is a Brazilianesque logic to Thailand's protectionism: It takes from the poor and gives to the rich.