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Another De La masterpiece. This is Southern Hip Hop at its finest. Real and raw, Soul Food has that genre-bending musicality reminiscent of OutKast with true lyrical depth. One of those albums that age like fine wine and only get better as times goes by. In the gangsta theme still had originality and authenticity, which makes Ice T a true O. Lacking a monster hit-single like T. That is wrong, because this one is just as flawless as its predecessor.

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The lyrics are written by Ice Cube, The D. A little less consistent than N. In addition to their monumental debut, the classic Enter The Wu-Tang , there were 5 outstanding solo projects by Wu-Tang Clan members released prior to this sophomore effort.

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Production is on point, Paris is a great emcee with a dark, menacing tone of voice and the subject matter is thought-provoking. Diamond D always was a producer first and an emcee second and it shows.

The beats on this joint are flawless start to finish, no need to skip tracks on this album. An underrated Golden Age gem. Great production and plain awesome lyricism by one of the best emcees ever — excellence. The first Hip Hop band: Stetsasonic came out with a bang with this album in Another album, another classic. And to think that this one may not even be their best album really showes the consitently high level of quality of the work Gang Starr would drop in the 90s.

This album is FUN. It should be, though. Excellent work. Some hardcore lyrics, but also some lessons to be learned here. Aceyalone is an incredibly talented and unique MC, always pushing lyrical boundaries and succeeding effortlessly in all styles he employs. He released a string of excellent creative and innovative albums throughout his career, and this one may be his very best. A left-field masterpiece. Nobody with the exception of Rakim touches the mic skills of BDK, then or now.

Do you like violence? The real start of an epic career that would make Em a worldwide phenomenon and one of the best-selling artists in music ever. This album is straight up Hip Hop, from one of the best crews in the game. Common is extraordinary. Markedly darker, both sonically and lyrically, than their previous albums, Hard To Earn is yet another 5-star album from Gang Starr.

Guru and DJ Premier are both in top form as usual, cementing their status of one the most consistent acts in Hip Hop ever. Maybe because of the epicness of their first two albums, this one is often overlooked in best Hip Hop album lists. It should not be though. The production is excellent as well although the question is how much Eric B should be credited for that — look it up ; the whole album is consistently dope, with a few stand out tracks. The Diary , his third solo album, is short and tight 10 full songs with only one guest Ice Cube , which makes it all the stronger.

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Apocalypse 91… is a strong part of P. Enta Da Stage is such an album. As KRS One would say: this album is real boom bap — real hard beats and real rap. Straight dope. Funky Technician is woefully underrated, as is Lord Finesse himself. Also part of the epic run of classic Wu-Tang solo debuts. One of the most lyrical albums in Hip Hop ever, by one of the most underrated lyricists.

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Public Enemy - Yo! Top tracks: Mathematics Ms. Penn had done, of the crests on their own silver, by which these Friends of Welsh descent set much store. Wherefore should we be ashamed to confess it? All of this I but dimly recall. It is one of the earliest recollections of my childhood, and, being out of the common, was, I suppose, for that reason better remembered.

I do not know how old I was when, at this time, Mr. Penn, in a neat wig with side rolls, and dressed very gaudy, aroused my curiosity as to these folks in Wales, It was long after, and only by degrees, that I learned the following facts, which were in time to have a great influence on my own life and its varied fortunes.

In or about the year , and of course before Mr. Penn, the proprietary, came over, my grandfather had crossed the sea, and settled near Chester on lands belonging to the Swedes.

The reason of his coming was this: about the Welsh of the English church and the magistrates were greatly stirred to wrath against the people called Quakers, because of their refusal to pay tithes. Among these offenders was no small number of the lesser gentry, especially they of Merionethshire. How he chanced to be born among these hot-blooded Wynnes I do not comprehend.

He is said to have been gay in his early days, but in young manhood to have become averse to the wild ways of his breed, and to have taken a serious and contemplative turn. Falling in with preachers of the people called Quakers, he left the church of the establishment, gave up hunting, ate his game-cocks, and took to straight collars, plain clothes, and plain talk. When he refused to pay the tithes he was fined, and at last cast into prison in Shrewsbury Gate House, where he lay for a year, with no more mind to be taxed for a hireling ministry at the end of that time than at the beginning.

His next brother, William, a churchman as men go, seems to have loved him, although he was himself a rollicking fox-hunter; and, seeing that Hugh would die if left in this duress, engaged him to go to America. Upon his agreeing to make over his estate to William, those in authority readily consented to his liberation, since William had no scruples as to the matter of tithes, and with him there would be no further trouble.

Thus it came about that my grandfather Hugh left Wales. He had with him, I presume, enough of means to enable him to make a start in Pennsylvania. It could not have been much. He carried also, what no doubt he valued, a certificate of removal from the Quarterly Meeting held at Tyddyn y Garreg.

I have this singular document. His testimony sweet and tender, reaching to the quicking seed of life; we cannot alsoe but bemoan the want of his company, for that in difficult occasion he was sted-fast—nor was one to be turned aside. And so the strong-minded man is commended to Friends across the seas. In the records of the meetings for sufferings in England are certain of his letters from the jail.

William died suddenly in without children, and was succeeded by the third brother, Owen. This gentleman lived the life of his time, and, dying in of much beer and many strong waters, left one son, Owen, a minor.

What with executors and other evils, the estate now went from ill to worse. Owen Wynne 2d was in no haste, and thus married as late as somewhere about , and had issue, William, and later, in , a second son, Arthur, and perhaps others; but of all this I heard naught until many years after, as I have already said.

Certain it is that the freedom to worship God as he pleased was more to him than wealth, and assuredly not to be set against a so meagre estate, where he must have lived among enmities, or must have diced, drunk, and hunted with the rest of his kinsmen and neighbours. I have a faint memory of my aunt, Gainor Wynne, as being fond of discussing the matter, and of how angry this used to make my father.

She had a notion that my father knew more than he was willing to say, and that there had been something further agreed between the brothers, although what this was she knew not, nor ever did for many a day.

She was given, however, to filling my young fancy with tales about the greatness of these Wynnes, and of how the old homestead, rebuilded in James I. Be all this as it may, we had lost Wyncote for the love of a freer air, although all this did not much concern me in the days of which I now write. Under the mild and just rule of the proprietary, my grandfather Hugh prospered, and in turn his son John, my father, to a far greater extent.

Their old home in Wales became to them, as time went on, less and less important. Their acres here in Merion and Bucks were more numerous and more fertile. I may add that the possession of many slaves in Maryland, and a few in Pennsylvania, gave them the feeling of authority and position, which the colonial was apt to lose in the presence of his English rulers, who, being in those days principally gentlemen of the army, were given to assuming airs of superiority.

In a word, my grandfather, a man of excellent wits and of much importance, was of the council of William Penn, and, as one of his chosen advisers, much engaged in his difficulties with the Lord Baltimore as to the boundaries of the lands held of the crown.

Soon the letters, which at first were frequent, that is, coming twice a year, when the London packet arrived or departed, became rare; and if, on the death of my great-uncle William, they ceased, or if any passed later between us and the next holder of Wyncote, I never knew. The Welsh squires had our homestead, and we our better portion of wealth and freedom in this new land. And so ended my knowledge of this matter for many a year.

You will readily understand that the rude life of a fox-hunting squire or the position of a strict Quaker on a but moderate estate in Merionethshire would have had little to tempt my father. Yet one thing remained with him awhile as an unchanged inheritance, to which, so far as I remember, he only once alluded.

Indeed, I should never have guessed that he gave the matter a thought but for that visit of Mr. John Penn, and the way it recurred to me in later days in connection with an incident concerning the picture and the blazoned arms. I think he cared less and less as years went by. In earlier days he may still have liked to remember that he might have been Wynne of Wyncote; but this is a mere guess on my part. Pride spiritual is a master passion, and certain it is that the creed and ways of Fox and Penn became to him, as years created habits, of an importance far beyond the pride which values ancient blood or a stainless shield.

The old house, which was built much in the same fashion as the great mansion of my Lord Dysart on the Thames near to Richmond, but smaller, was, after all, his family home. The picture and the arms were hid away in deference to opinions by which in general he more and more sternly abided. Once, when I was older, I went into his bedroom, and was surprised to find him standing before the hearth, his hands crossed behind his back, looking earnestly at the brightly coloured shield beneath the picture of Wyncote.

I knew too well to disturb him in these silent moods, but hearing my steps, he suddenly called me to him. I obeyed with the dread his sternness always caused me. To my astonishment, his face was flushed and his eyes were moist. He laid his hand on my shoulder, and clutched it hard as he spoke. He did not turn, but, still looking up at the arms, said, in a voice which paused between the words and sounded strange:.

I thank God that the Spirit prevailed with me to answer him in Christian meekness. He came near to worse things than harsh words. Be warned, my son. It is a terrible set-back from right living to come of a hot-blooded breed like these Wynnes. I looked up at Mm as he spoke. Remember that it is something, in this nest of disloyal traders, to have come of gentle blood.

I hope thou hast considered before speaking. If I hear no better of thee soon thou wilt repent it. It is time thou shouldst take thy life more seriously. What I have said is for no ear but thine. I went away with a vague feeling that I had suffered for Mr. Now all the boys were against the Stamp Act, and I had at the moment a sudden fear at being opposed to my father.

I had, too, a feeling of personal shame because this strong man, whom I dreaded on account of his severity, should have been so overwhelmed by an insult. There was at this period, and later, much going on in my outer life to lessen the relentless influence of the creed of conduct which prevailed in our home for me, and for all of our house. I had even then begun to suspect at school that non-resistance did not add permanently to the comfort of life. I was sorry that my father had not resorted to stronger measures with Mr.

Bradford, a gentleman whom, in after-years, I learned greatly to respect. I am bound to add that I also felt some self-importance at being intrusted with this secret, for such indeed it was. To this second marriage, which occurred in , were born my aunt, Gainor Wynne, and, two years later, my father, John Wynne. I have no remembrance of either grandparent. Both lie in the ground at Merion Meeting-house, under nameless, unmarked graves, after the manner of Friends.

I like it not. My father, being a stern and silent man, must needs be caught by his very opposite, and, according to this law of our nature, fell in love with Marie Beauvais, the orphan of a French gentleman who had become a Quaker, and was of that part of France called the Midi.

Of this marriage I was the only surviving offspring, my sister Ellin dying when I was an infant. I was born in the city of Penn, on January 9, , at 9 P. I have but to close my eyes to see the house in which I lived in my youth. It stood in the city of Penn, back from the low bluff of Dock Creek, near to Walnut street. The garden stretched down to the water, and before the door were still left on either side two great hemlock-spruces, which must have been part of the noble woods under which the first settlers found shelter.

Behind the house was a separate building, long and low, in which all the cooking was done, and upstairs were the rooms where the slaves dwelt apart. Herbs and simples were not wanting, nor berries, for all good housewives in those days were expected to be able to treat colds and the lesser maladies with simples, as they were called, and to provide abundantly jams and conserves of divers kinds.

I have heard her regret that the most delicious of all the growths of spring, the ground-sweet, which I think they now call arbutus, would not prosper out of its forest shelter. The house was of black and red brick, and double; that is, with two windows on each side of a white Doric doorway, having something portly about it.

I use the word as Dr. Johnson defines it: a house of port, with a look of sufficiency, and, too, of ready hospitality, which was due, I think, to the upper half of the door being open a good part of the year.

In the white shutters were cut crescentic openings, which looked at night like half-shut eyes when there were lights within the rooms.

In the hall were hung on pegs leathern buckets. The day I went to school for the first time is very clear in my memory. I can see myself, a stout little fellow about eight years old, clad in gray homespun, with breeches, low shoes, and a low, flat beaver hat. Often afterward I took eggs in a little basket, or flowers, and others did the like. I remember as well my return home to this solid house, this first day of my going to school.

One is apt to associate events with persons, and my mother stood leaning on the half-door as I came running back. She was some little reassured to see me smiling, for, to tell the truth, I had been mightily scared at my new venture. This sweet and most tender-hearted lady wore, as you may like to know, a gray gown, and a blue chintz apron fastened over the shoulders with wide bands.

On her head was a very broad-brimmed white beaver hat, low in the crown, and tied by silk cords under her chin. She had a great quantity of brown hair, among which was one wide strand of gray. This she had from youth, I have been told. It was all very silken, and so curly that it was ever in rebellion against the custom of Friends, which would have had it flat on the temples.

Indeed, I never saw it so, for, whether at the back or at the front, it was wont to escape in large curls. Nor do I think she disliked this worldly wilfulness, for which nature had provided an unanswerable excuse. She had serious blue eyes, very large and wide open, so that the clear white was seen all around the blue, and with a constant look as if of gentle surprise.

In middle life she was still pliant and well rounded, with a certain compliment of fresh prettiness in whatever gesture she addressed to friend or guest. Some said it was a French way, and indeed she made more use of her hands in speech than was common among people of British race.

Her goodness seems to me to have been instinctive, and to have needed neither thought nor effort. Her faults, as I think of her, were mostly such as arise from excess of loving and of noble moods.

She would be lavish where she had better have been merely generous, or rash where some would have lacked even the commoner qualities of courage. Indeed, as to this, she feared no one—neither my grave father nor the grimmest of inquisitive committees of Friends.

As I came she set those large, childlike eyes on me, and opening the lower half-door, cried out:. I wish I could have gone with thee, Hugh; and was it dreadful?

Come, let us see thy little book. And did they praise thy reading? Didst thou tell them I taught thee? As we chatted we passed through the hall, where tall mahogany chairs stood dark against the whitewashed walls, such as were in all the rooms.

My mother sat down on a settle, and spread out both palms toward me, laughing, and crying out:. This was said so exactly with the voice and manner of a famous preacher of our Meeting that even I, a lad then of only eight years, recognised the imitation. Indeed, she was wonderful at this trick of mimicry, a thing most odious to Friends. As I smiled, hearing her, I was aware of my father in the open doorway of the sitting-room, tall, strong, with much iron-gray hair.

Within I saw several Friends, large rosy men in drab, with horn buttons and straight collars, their stout legs clad in dark silk hose, without the paste or silver buckles then in use. All wore broad-brimmed, low beavers, and their gold-headed canes rested between their knees. The child disturbs us, wife. Thou shouldst know better. A committee of overseers is with me.

I am proud of it. We have friends to eat dinner with us at two. The great room where we took our meals is still clear in my mind. The floor was two inches deep in white sand, in which were carefully traced zigzag lines, with odd patterns in the corners. A bare table of well-rubbed mahogany stood in the middle, with a thin board or two laid on the sand, that the table might be set without disturbing the patterns, In the corners were glass-covered buffets, full of silver and Delft ware; and a punch-bowl of Chelsea was on the broad window-ledge, with a silver-mounted cocoanut ladle.

Come out; I will find thee some ripe damsons, and save thee cake for thy supper, if Friend Warder does not eat it all. He is a little man, and eats much.

Vanity, vanity! Come, let us run down the garden. Canst thou catch me, Hugh! Dear, ever dear lady, seen through the mist of years! None was like you, and none as dear, save one who had as brave a soul, but far other ways and charms. And thus began my life at school, to which I went twice a day, my father not approving of the plan of three sessions a day, which was common, nor, for some reason, I know not what, of schools kept by Friends.

So it was that I set out before eight, and went again from two to four. There were many boys and girls, and of the former John Warder, and Graydon, who wrote certain memoirs long after. His mother, a widow, kept boarders in the great Slate-roof House near by; for in those days this was a common resource of decayed gentlewomen, and by no means affected their social position. I liked well enough the freedom I now enjoyed, and found it to my fancy to wander a little on my way to school, although usually I followed the creek, and, where Second street crossed it, lingered on the bridge to watch the barges or galleys come up at full of tide to the back of the warehouses on the northeast bank.

I have observed that teachers are often eccentric, and surely David Dove was no exception, nor do I now know why so odd a person was chosen by many for the care of youth. I fancy my mother had to do with the choice in my case, and was influenced by the fact that Dove rarely used the birch, but had a queer fancy for setting culprits on a stool, with the birch switch stuck in the back of the jacket, so as to stand up behind the head.

I hated this, and would rather have been birched secundum artem than to have seen the girls giggling at me. I changed my opinion later. Thus my uneventful life ran on, while I learned to write, and acquired, with other simple knowledge, enough of Latin and Greek to fit me for entrance at the academy, which Dr.

At this time I fell much into the company of John Warder, a lad of my own age, and a son of that Joseph who liked cake, and was, as my mother said, solicitous. Most of the games of boys were not esteemed fitting by Friends, and hence we were somewhat limited in our resources; but to fish in the creek we were free; also to haunt the ships and hear sea yarns, and to skate in winter, were not forbidden.

Our school life with Dove ended after four years in an odd fashion. I was then about twelve, and had become a vigorous, daring boy, with, as it now seems to me, something of the fortunate gaiety of my mother. Other lads thought it singular that in peril I became strangely vivacious; but underneath I had a share of the relentless firmness of my father, and of his vast dislike of failure, and of his love of truth.

David Dove, among other odd ways, devised a plan for punishing the unpunctual which had considerable success. One had a lantern, which, with much laughter, he tied about my neck, and one, marching before, rang a bell. I had seen this queer punishment fall on others, and certainly the amusement shown by people in the streets would not have hurt me compared with the advantage of pockets full of apples, had I not of a sudden seen my father, who usually breakfasted at six, and was at his warehouse by seven.

He looked at me composedly, but went past us saying nothing. On my return about eleven, he unluckily met me in the garden, for I had gone the back way in order to hide my apples. The good man said I was a naughty boy, but must come later when the apples were red ripe, and I should take all I wanted, and I might fetch with me another boy, or even two. I never forgot this, and did him some good turns in after-years, and right gladly too.

In my own mind I associated David Dove with this painful interview with my father. I disliked him the more because, when the procession entered the school, a little girl for whom Warder and I had a boy friendship, in place of laughing, as did the rest, for some reason began to cry. This angered the master, who had the lack of self-control often seen in eccentric people. He asked why she cried, and on her sobbing out that it was because she was sorry for me, he bade her take off her stays.

These being stiff, and worn outside the gown, would have made the punishment of the birch on the shoulders of trifling moment. As it was usual to whip girls at school, the little maid said nothing, but did as she was bid, taking a sharp birching without a cry. Meanwhile I sat with my head in my hands, and my fingers in my ears lest I should hear her weeping.

Now, with all his seeming dislike to use the rod, David had turns of severity, and then he was far more brutal than any man I have ever known. Therefore it did not surprise us next morning that the earlier scholars were looking with wonder and alarm at the sentence on the wall, when Dove, appearing behind us, ordered us to enter at once. Going to his desk, he put on his spectacles, which then were worn astride of the nose.

In a minute he set on below them a second pair, and this we knew to be a signal of coming violence. Then he stood up, and asked who had written the opprobrious epithet on the wall. As no one replied, he asked several in turn, but luckily chose the girls, thinking, perhaps, that they would weakly betray the sinner. When he had said this over and over, I began to reflect that, if he had any real idea of doing as he promised, a pound was a great sum, and to consider what might be done with it in the way of marbles of Amsterdam, tops, and of certain much-desired books, for now this latter temptation was upon me, as it has been ever since.

As I sat, and Dove thundered, I remembered how, when one Stacy, with an oath, assured my father that his word was as good as his bond, my parent said dryly that this equality left him free to choose, and he would prefer his bond.

I saw no way to what was for me the mysterious security of a bond, but I did conceive of some need to stiffen the promise Dove had made before I faced the penalty. I lay still awhile, and then went to my seat. As I bent over my desk, it was rather the sense that I had been wronged, than the pain of the blows, which troubled me. After school, refusing speech to any, I walked home, and ministered to my poor little bruised body as I best could.

Now this being a Saturday, and therefore a half-holiday, I ate at two with my father and mother. Have no fear. Look, John! What a brute! I tell thee, thou shalt not! We had a grave, sweet talk, and there it ended for a time. I was put to bed and declared to have a fever, and given sulphur and treacle, and kept out of the paternal paths for a mournful day of enforced rest.

On the Monday following I went to school as usual, but not without fear of Dove. He stood before the desk, and addressed Master Dove in a loud voice, meaning, I suppose, to be heard by all of us. I do not say he has lied, for it is my belief that thou art truly an unjust and cruel beast.

He, on his part, for a consideration of one pound sterling, was to tell thee who wrote certain words. He has paid thee and thou hast taken interest out of his skin. Indeed, Friend Shylock, I think he weighs less by a pound. Thou wilt give him his pound, Master David. Upon this a little maid near by smiled at me, and Warder punched me in the ribs. I advise thee to pay. As thou art Master to punish boys, so will I, David, use thy birch on thee at need, and trust to the great Master to reckon with me if I am wrong.

All this he said so fiercely that I trembled with joy, and hoped that Dove would deny him; but, in place of this, he muttered something about Meeting and Friends, and meanwhile searched his pockets and brought out a guinea.

I dared not ask for it, and I think he forgot it. He went along homeward, with his head bent and his hands behind his back. In common, he walked with his head up and his chin set forward, as though he did a little look down on the world of other men; and this in truth he did, being at least sis feet three inches in his stocking-feet, and with no lack of proportion in waist or chest. Dost thou want more interest?

Oh, what am I saying? Mon fils , forget thy debt. What did thy father say? I would I had seen him then, or this time. I like sometimes to see a strong man in just anger. Oh, mon Dieu! I am but half a Quaker, I fear. Give me a sweet little pat on the cheek for my badness, and always come to me with all thy troubles.

I think on this occasion his after-annoyance, which endured for days, was more because of having threatened Dove than for any other cause. He no doubt regarded me as the maker of the mischief which had tempted him for a moment to forget himself, and for many a day his unjust severity proved that he did not readily forgive.

But so it was always. My mother never failed to understand me, which my father seemed rarely able to do. If I did ill he used the strap with little mercy, but neither in these early years, nor in those which followed, did he ever give me a word of praise. He were better without it. He hated all French things, and declared the language did not ring true—that it was a slippery tongue, in which it was easy to lie.

A proud, strong man he was in those days, of fixed beliefs, and of unchanging loyalty to the king. In his own house he was feared by his son, his clerks, and his servants; but not by my mother, who charmed him, as she did all other men, and had in most things her desire. Outside of his own walls few men cared to oppose him. He was rich, and coldly despotic; a man exact and just in business, but well able, and as willing, to help with a free hand whatever cause was of interest to Friends. My Aunt Gainor, a little his senior, was one of the few over whom he had no manner of control.

She went her own way, and it was by no means his way, as I shall make more clear by and by. Two days later I was taken to the academy, or the college, as some called it, which is now the university. My father wrote my name, as you may see it in the catalogue, and his own signature, with the date of 6th month 4th, Thus it came about that my friend Jack and I were by good fortune kept in constant relation.

Our schoolmate, the small maid so slight of limb, so dark and tearful, was soon sent away to live with an aunt in Bristol, on the Delaware, having become an orphan by the death of her mother.

Darthea Peniston passed out of my life for many years, having been, through the accident of her tenderness, the means for me of a complete and fortunate change.

The academy was, and still is, a plain brick building, set back from Fourth street, and having a large gravelled space in front and also at the back. The main school-room occupied its whole westward length, and upstairs was a vast room, with bare joists above, in which, by virtue of the deed of gift, any Christian sect was free to worship if temporarily deprived of a home.

Here the great Whitefield preached, and here generations of boys were taught. Behind the western playground was the graveyard of Christ Church. He was thought a brave lad who, after school at dusk in winter, dared to climb over and search around the tombs of the silent dead for a lost ball or what not. I was mightily afraid of the academy.

The birch was used often and with severity, and, as I soon found, there was war between the boys and the town fellows who lived to north and east. I was also to discover other annoyances quite as little to the taste of Friends, such as stone fights or snowball skirmishes.

Did time permit, I should like well to linger long over this school life. The college, as it was officially called, had a great reputation, and its early catalogues are rich with names of those who made an empire. This task I leave to other pens, and hasten to tell my own personal story. I like to think it was a true picture.

At twelve he was as tall as are most lads at sixteen, but possessed of such activity and muscular power as are rarely seen, bidding fair to attain, as he did later, the height and massive build of his father.

He was a great lover of risk, and not, as I have always been, fearful. I think he went with us on these, and some wilder errands, chiefly because of his fondness for danger, a thing I could never comprehend.

God bless him! Had I never known him I might perhaps have been, as to one thing, a happier man, but I had been less deserving of such good fortune as has come to me in life. For this is one of the uses of friends: that we consider how such and such a thing we are moved to do might appear to them. And this for one of my kind, who have had—nay, who have—many weaknesses, has been why Hugh Wynne counts for so much to me.

I leave this and other extracts as they were writ. A more upright gentleman than John Warder I know not, nor did ever know. What he meant by his weaknesses I cannot tell, and as to the meaning of one phrase, which he does not here explain, these pages shall perhaps discover.

Let me say, this isone of the best films I have ever seen within this genre. Without spoiling anything, I will say that this is about the generalcivil warfare that exists in Africa, something most western, shelterdAmericans have never even fathomed and have only learned about throughmovies.

The film doesn't specify what part of Africa it is, but youknow it is something that is real. Netflix doesn't hide anything about the realities of what happens tofamilies, children, fathers, and brothers, as well as the numbness thewar leaders on both sides, really have toward excessive and brutalviolence.

Imagine: the film shows all of this through the eyes of aboy, probably only 12 years old. He is forced into a mercenary squadafter his family is torn apart, and he experiences something that iseven darker than hell itself.

That young boy, played by Abraham Attah, puts on a performance I havenever seen before in a child actor. Given the mature content of thefilm, it is quite unbelievable that the torn emotions any child wouldhave, given this situation, is so clearly displayed and authentic.

Every scene just tore at my soul; I wondered if it was really acting. And he wasn't the only one; women, children, and the 'extras' in thefilm: are these people really doing their first major film? Each sceneleft me speechless. The emotional involvement I had with this film as a viewer isastonishing. Trivia Clint Eastwood 's first leading role in a Hollywood film.

He was already 38 years old. Goofs When Cooper is pushing through the crowd at the mass hanging a man behind him is wearing glasses with black plastic frames. Quotes Jed Cooper : You don't remember me, do you? Alternate versions As with many westerns at the time the UK cinema version was cut by the BBFC to reduce facial closeups during the opening lynching and to edit Cooper's fight with Miller. Connections Featured in Legends of the West Soundtracks Shall We Gather at the River? User reviews Review.

Top review. We all have our ghosts, Marshal. Music is by Dominic Frontiere and cinematography is shared by Richard H. Kline and Leonard J. An innocent man survives a lynching and returns as a lawman and sets about bringing the vigilantes to justice. After making a name in Leone's Dollars Trilogy, Eastwood returned to America and began cementing his name in the genre of film that would come to define him.

Though very much an American Western, this does have Spaghetti Western tonal splinters. Story is derivative and safe, however the characterisations are not and are pungent enough to warrant viewing investment. Unfortunately director Ted Post often lets the pace sag to unbearable levels - especially in the last third of film, it's a shame that the mooted Robert Aldrich didn't get the gig.

There simply is not enough on the page to sustain the near two hour running time, with the finale proving to be a rather flat experience.

The liberal stance on the death penalty is a touch heavy handed, but not so as to kill the picture since the thought process of the complexities of justice holds high interest values.



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