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taking into his family an orphaned girl aged eight with severe scars allegedly due to napalm burns. Commenting on his decision the general said, quote, I was not at war with children, only with those seeking the destruction of our way of life. End quote. Questioned concerning his reaction to the growth of the Double-V scheme prior to leaving the White House for his main engagement of the day, a luncheon organized by former members of his official fan club at which he is slated to deliver a major speech on foreign affairs, Prexy said, quote, I guess if they can’t break down the front door they have to sneak around the back. End quote. The Congressional inquiry into alleged bribe-taking by officials of the Federal Land Use Commission...

    THE ROOT OF THE TROUBLE
    “Te-goosey-goosey-galpa—” The rain was pelting down so hard the wipers of the Land Rover could barely cope, and the road was terrible. Despite four-wheel drive they were continually sliding and skidding, and every now and then they met a pothole which made Leonard Ross wince.
    “Knock ’er down and scalp ’er—”
    Dr. Williams’s singing was barely audible above the roar of the engine and the hammering of the rain, but it was just possible to discern that the tune belonged to a nursery rhyme: Goosey Gander.
    “Up hers! H’ and your ass—”
    Another pothole. Leonard reflexively glanced back to see if his equipment was okay, and wished he hadn’t. The rear seat was also occupied by the policeman assigned to escort him, who had a repulsive weeping skin condition, and Leonard’s stomach was queasy enough anyhow.
    “Nobody will halp ’er!” concluded Williams triumphantly, and added without drawing a fresh breath, “How long have you been with Globe Relief?”
    “Oh ...” For an instant Leonard didn’t realize the question was a question. “About four years now.”
    “And you’ve never been to this part of the world before?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “Bloody typical!” With a snort. “At least I hope they gave you all the gen?”
    Leonard nodded. They had submerged him with masses of data, and his head was still ringing. But this country was so full of paradoxes! To start with, when he’d seen that the name of his contact at Guanagua was Williams, he’d assumed an American. He hadn’t been prepared for a manic Briton who wore a Harris tweed jacket in this stinking sub-tropical humidity. Yet it seemed of a piece with a nation whose first capital, for 357 years, had been demoted because the citizens objected to the governor keeping a mistress; whose current capital was so relatively unimportant it had never had a railroad, and the international airlines had given up servicing it ...
    “Every time someone tries to haul this country up by its bootstraps,” Williams said, “something goes wrong. Act of God! Though if that’s really how He likes to amuse Himself, no wonder the Tupamaros are making so much headway! Not around here, of course, but in the cities. Look at this road! By local standards it’s a ruddy highway. It’s so damned difficult to get goods to market, most people haven’t the currency to buy manufactured goods, even proper tools. But now and then someone whips up enthusiasm for cash crops instead of subsistence crops—cotton, coffee, that sort of thing—and it swings along for a while and then all of a sudden, crash. Their hard work goes for nothing. Like this time. Come and see for yourself.”
    Unexpectedly he braked the Land Rover at a spot where rocks as high as a man’s knee flanked the track. Peering through the rain-smeared windshield, Leonard made out that they had arrived within sight of a shabby village surrounded on two sides by lines of coffee plants, on the others by maize and beans. The layout suggested competent husbandry, but every single plant was wilted.
    Jumping out, Williams added, “Bring your gear!”
    “Ah—”
    “Look, the rain isn’t going to stop for bloody weeks, you know, so you