What's Your Name G3p12

 What's Your Name?

"Hey! You! Third boy from the top of the left side—you dropped your glove!"

"Guess what! I'm invited to a birthday party that the girl with golden hair and brown eyes who wears a red winter coat is giving!"

Oh! Aren't you glad that mothers and fathers give names to their children? It is so much easier and quicker—and friendlier—to say, "John, you dropped your glove!" or, "I'm invited to Betty's birthday party."

Names are the quickest and easiest—and friendliest—way to say who's who.  Another nice thing about names is that they do not change as people do. Yesterday Mary's hair was long. Today her hair is short. But her name is still Mary.

On his birthday Uncle George did not have a beard. At Christmastime he did, but his name is still George.

People are always changing, a little or a lot. But people's first names stay the same.

Another good thing about a name is that it sometimes says something nice about someone.

Girls' names often come from words meaning "pretty", "happy", "loving", ...

Lily comes from the name of this flower. It means that the girl is pretty and sweet like the lily.

Catherine comes from a word meaning "truthful". It says that the woman is an honest lady and loved by all.

Dorothy comes from a word meaning "gift". You know how happy you are when a gift comes your way!

Boys' names are often borrowed from words meaning "strong", "brave", "lucky", ...

Richard comes from a word meaning "brave".

Victor comes from a word meaning "winner".

Charles comes from a word meaning "man of the common people"—a man who works on the land.

There are so many people named Richard or Lily. Without a last name to go with your first name, how could people tell which Richard or which Lily you are?

That's the way it was everywhere a very long time ago. People had only one name. As there got to be more and more people in the world, it became harder and harder to tell them apart. So people began making up last names for themselves—now called family names or surnames.

Sometimes in choosing a last name a man would think about the kind of work he did. If he was a cook he might say, "I am Tom, the cook." Or just plain Tom Cook. If he was a cook for a king, he might become known as Tom Kingcook.

A man who was a carpenter, a tailor, a miller, a baker, a farmer, or a weaver might choose to call himself by one of these names.

One of the most common names in the English language is Smith, which is short for blacksmith. There used to be a blacksmith in every village. Instead of iron, some smiths worked with gold or silver. That produced such names we see today in the phone book as Tom Goldsmith or Tom Silver-smith. Sometimes the names became shortened to Tom Gold or Tom Silver.

Sometimes a man took his last name from his father's first name. Tom was the son of John. So he began calling himself Tom Johnson. A man who was the son of Jack might call himself Jackson.

Often a man got his last name from the place where he lived. James lived on a hill. So people began to call him James Hill. Another James lived by a lake. He became James Lake.

A man was sometimes called by a nickname. A tall man might be called Long Tom or Tom Long, or Tom Longfellow.

A short man might become Little John, and his son was probably called Tom Littlejohn. William who was always thirsty might be called william Drinkwater.

Sometimes colors became last names. A man with red hair might be called Tom Red. But sometimes down through the years, the name was changed. So Tom Read or Reade is still probably a descendant of Tom Red. A man who lived near the village green might have called himself Tom Green.

If Tom had a strong arm, what name might he have? What if he had a big foot?

The last names of people all over the world had similar beginnings. Can you guess how you might have gotten your name?

1. What are the nice things about names?

2. What kind of words do girls' names come from? Give some examples.

3. What kind of words are boys' names borrowed from? Give some examples.

4. What did people begin to do when there got to be more and more people in the world and it became harder and harder to tell them apart?

5. How are some of the ways a man chose a last name? Give some examples.

Valuable Experience G3p11

 **Valuable Experience**

Opening the gate, Vernon Berry walked through the little garden with a smile on his face and a large book in one hand. Long experience had taught him how to sell books to people who did not want them. He had a fine, deep voice and could talk well. He could make people laugh. He was clean and well-dressed. He was one of those men that people like at once, and he knew it. In short, he was a success as a salesman.

He rang the bell at the front door, which was opened after a short delay by a young woman with an anxious face. He was sorry to see, from the absence of a ring on her hand, that she was not married; but she might have a brother or a cousin who read serious books.

"Good morning, Madam," he said. "I wonder if you would be interested in buying a copy of *The History of the World*. I have one of the books here to show you, but there are twelve altogether. They contain excellent pictures ..."

"I'm sorry," the woman interrupted. "I'm cooking, and I've no time to talk about history. I must go back to the kitchen." And before he had time to answer, she shut the door.

Berry was shocked to have his talk so suddenly interrupted, but refused to be driven away as easily as that. Walking round the house, he knocked at the back door. It was opened by the same woman.

"You again!" she cried.

"Well," he said, "you told me how busy you were in the kitchen, and so I took the trouble to come round to the back. Perhaps you'll allow me to sit in the kitchen and tell you about this splendid history while you do your cooking. It's such an important and useful book that you'll be very sorry if you miss the chance of buying a copy. " He smiled his bright smile, showing white teeth.

"Well," she said, "you can come in and sit down if you want to. Over there," she added, pointing to a chair. "But you'll be wasting your time. I'm not interested in history and I've no money to spend on books."

Berry sat down, carefully placing his heavy book on the kitchen table. Every copy of the history that he sold meant more money for himself, and he felt sure that he could persuade this woman to buy one. He discussed it in his pleasant voice while she cooked, telling her all the advantages of possessing such a book, and mentioning the low price. Suddenly she interrupted him.

"Just wait a minute," she said, and left the kitchen. He heard her opening a drawer somewhere in the house, and then she came back with a notebook and pencil in her hands. Leaving her cooking altogether, she sat down with him at the table.

"Go on, please," she said.

He began again, and she took notes while he talked, sometimes asking him to repeat the words that he said. Berry was delighted to see how interested she was, and thought again how easy it was to persuade people to buy unnecessary things. At last he came to an end.

"Well," he asked, closing the book, "what do you think, Madam? Don't you think it would be wise to buy a copy?"

"Oh, no," she said with surprise. "I told you at the beginning that I'm not interested in history, and I certainly don't intend to spend a lot of money on a history book." She opened the back door.

"But why did you take all those notes about it?" Berry asked. "You seemed very interested."

"Oh," she said, "my brother's in the same line of business as you are. He visits houses, trying to sell books, but he isn't very successful. So I've written down some of the things you said. You're very clever, and I'll show the notes to my brother. Then he'll know what to say when he tries next time, and he may be able to make more money. Thank you very much for your help. I'm glad you came."

1. What kind of work did Vernon Berry do?

2. How did he sell books to people who didn't want them?

3. What did he say to the young woman when she opened the door?

4. Why did the woman interrupt him?

5. What did Berry do when he was sent away from the front door by the woman?

6. What did he say to the woman when the back door was opened?

7. Did the woman allow him to come in this time? What did she say?

8. What did Berry do after he sat down?

9. Why did the woman suddenly interrupt him?

10. Why was Berry quite delighted?

11. What did he say to the woman when he came to an end at last?

12. Did the woman buy a copy of Berry's history books? Why did she take all those notes as Berry talked?

Argument G3p10

 Argument

A mong the great teachers of ancient Athens was one named Protagoras ([prəʊ'tægərəs]), who was born more than twenty-four centuries ago. He wrote books and taught many subjects, including the laws of argument and the right use of language. It is said that he was the first teacher to accept money for his services, and that he was once paid about four hundred pounds for teaching one student. He was a man of great ability; and at one time, when some new laws were needed, Protagoras was the man chosen to make them.

A certain student, Evalthus ([i'vælθəs]), heard of this famous teacher and asked him to give him lessons. Evalthus did not want to pay for his lessons at once, and after some discussion it was finally agreed between them that Evalthus should pay only if he won his first case in the law courts. For if he won, it would prove that he had been taught well.

The lessons began and Evalthus proved himself to be a clever student. He worked hard, and the time came when he had reached the end of his studies. He then refused to pay Protagoras anything whatever.

Protagoras therefore took Evalthus to court and told the judges that he wanted his money. He explained that he must be paid whether he won or lost the case. "Whatever you decide," he declared to the judges, "I must be paid. For if you decide in my favour, then I win the case, and so I must be paid. But if you decide against me, then Evalthus has won his first case in the law courts; according to our agreement, he must pay me for his lessons. Therefore I shall get my money whatever happens."

After considering this argument, the Athenian judges found no fault in it. But they asked Evalueus to reply.

"It is quite clear," said Evalueus,"that I must not pay. For either the judges will decide in my favour, or they will decide against me. If they decide in my favour, then I have won the case, and I must not pay. But if Protagoras wins, then I have lost my first case in the law courts. Therefore, according to our agreement. I do not have to pay him for the lessons. So I need not pay in any event.”

As both these arguments appeared to be faultless, the judges were unable to come to a decision. They therefore ordered the two men to appear before them again a hundred years later.

April Fool G3p09

 April Fool

"There's a snake in my bedroom!" "Come quickly—the kitchen's on fire!" "Have you seen my little cat? I put it down here, and now it is gone..."

Don't be nervous. It may not be true. In fact, if it's the morning of April 1, and you are living in Britain, then it almost certainly isn't true. Someone is trying to play an April Fool trick on you.

The custom started a long time ago, and it's still very popular today. The idea is simple: for the first twelve hours of April 1, you are allowed to play as many tricks as you like on as many people as you can deceive. Children throughout the country will try to play a trick on a friend, so that they can shout "April Fool" and laugh at their friend's discomfort.

It isn't just children that play these jokes, however: the television, radio, and newspapers occasionally try to deceive their customers with a cleverly-constructed April Fool story. Some years ago, for example, a very serious BBC TV programme did a ten-minute report about spaghetti trees in Switzerland: the reporter described how, with the recent bad weather, the trees weren't producing as much spaghetti as they normally did, and that this would make spaghetti more expensive. A lot of viewers, who didn't know that spaghetti is made of flour, actually believed the story. Another famous joke was played on the radio. A science correspondent reported that, because of strange geographical conditions, gravity was getting weaker in different parts of Britain. He asked the people who were listening to the programme to jump up and down, and, if they could jump higher than they normally could, to telephone the BBC.

The BBC had hundreds of calls: one man said he was so light that he could float as high as the ceiling. It was at twelve o'clock that the BBC gently informed its listeners that it was an April Fool trick.

When did it all start?

The custom was started in 1545 by a rather unfortunate accident. A Norwegian scientist, Loof Lirpa, was staying in London, where he was trying to find the secret of how to fly.

There was no doubt that the scientist was clever. It seems that his experiments were successful. King Henry VIII received a letter from Mr Lirpa, in which he announced that he had finally solved the secret of flight. He asked the king to be present at a demonstration flight at Westminster on April 1.

So the king, and the leading officials of the day, stood outside the Palace of Westminster on April 1, and waited for Mr Lirpa to come flying past. But, of course, nothing happened — and it became the tradition, afterwards, to play tricks on people in the same way on this day.

Recent evidence, however, shows that Loof Lirpa was in fact telling the truth. He had learned how to fly—the reason that he did not appear at Westminster was that his flying-machine had crashed into a tree, and he had been killed.

It was a tragedy for science. Most people believe that the first aeroplane flew in 1903, but this is not true. It flew 358 years earlier, in 1545. If Mr Lirpa had lived, our technology would now be much more advanced than it is.

The scientist, unfortunately, was very secretive: he hadn't kept any notes, and hadn't trusted anyone else with the knowledge of how his flying-machine worked. When he died, the secret died with him.

Although most people in Britain haven't heard of Loof Lirpa, he is very famous in Norway. April 1 is a national holiday, and people remember his flying trip by having ski-jump competitions. They also eat a special Loof Lirpa cake, which was invented by the scientist, and consists of fish, bananas, honey and chocolate.

Actually,"Loof Lirpa" wasn't his real name: if you say the two words backwards, you'll find out what his name really was.

1. What would happen to you on the morning of April 1 if you lived in Britain?

2. What will children do on that day?

3. Is it just children that play these jokes?

What other people play April Fool tricks?

4. When and how was the custom started?

5. Why did Loof Lirpa not appear at Westminster?

6. When did most people believe that the first aeroplane flew? When did it fly in fact?

7. Did Loof Lirpa tell people how his flying-machine worked? Why not?

8. How do people in Norway remember his flying trip?

9. What was Loof Lirpa's real name?

10. What do you think of this story about Loof Lirpa?

A Fishy Story G3p08

 A Fishy Story

Nick was a student who came from, shall we say, Ruritania. He was eighteen years old when he first arrived in England to study in London. Like most students he was not very rich, but he managed to make ends meet. He worked in the evening as a receptionist in a hotel. Everybody liked Nick. He was a pleasant, well-mannered, good-natured, humorous fellow. Moreover, he was intelligent. He worked hard; he studied well. He did exceptionally well in the language laboratory and his teachers were very pleased with his progress. But all of them agreed that although his pronunciation and intonation were good, his spelling was poor. This was mainly because in his own language the words were written the same way as they were pronounced.

Nick took his first examination at the end of the year. In one of the tests he had to write the word 'fish'. Curiously enough, he had never seen this word written and he began to wonder how he could spell it. "Well," he said to himself, " [f] ;that's the sound of 'gh' in the word 'cough'." So he wrote 'gh'. " [i] ; well, that's the sound of 'o' in the word 'women'." So he added 'o'. " [ʃ] ;well, that's easy. That's the sound of 's' in the word 'expression' and 't' in 'examination'." So he finally wrote 'g-h-o-s-t'. But in spite of this curious idea Nick passed his examination.

No Parking G3p07

 No Parking

Oliver Langley lived in a house in Wilton Street, less than two miles from the office. He was therefore able to drive home every day for lunch.

Driving his car slowly round the corner into Wilton Street one day, he looked sharply at the road outside his house. As he had feared, cars were parked there as usual, and there was no space for his own. It always made him angry, because the road was a little wider just there, with plenty of room for a car or two. But other people had noticed that too.

Further up the street there were no parked cars at all: there never were. The usual blue board stood at the side of the road with the usual information on it for all to see:

POLICE NOTICE

NO PARKING

He drove round two more corners, found an empty space, locked the car, and walked back home.

Before entering the house, he stopped to look at the board he himself had put up in the garden facing the road. "No Parking", said the wooden board. No parking! What was the use of a bit of board like that? No one was interested in it. He decided to take it down; it was useless and ugly.

Lunch was ready when he went in, and he sat down at the table with his wife. "I wish we could build a garage in the garden," he said.

"We can," said Helena. "But the gate isn't wide enough for a car."

"We could make the gate wider. There's just enough room for a small garage. Then I could keep the car here at night, and at lunchtime I wouldn't have to drive half a mile looking for somewhere to park. I haven't been able to leave the car outside the house in the middle of the day for months."

"Nobody takes any notice of our board," said Helena.

"You can't blame them," he said. "There isn't anywhere else to park. Wherever you go in this town, you see a blue board with white letters on it: *Police Notice. No Parking*. Nobody can leave a car anywhere in the main streets, so they leave them here. But I hate to see the ugly things outside the house all day. I wish I knew a way to stop them."

"Our board's too small," she said. "Make a bigger one and paint the words in red. Then people will see it."

"They won't care, even if they see it. They'll obey a police notice, but not a private one."

After a short silence, Helena suddenly cried, "I've got an idea. Go out tonight when it's dark and steal a police notice. There are hundreds of them all over the town, and one won't be missed. Bring it here and leave it outside. No one will see you."

Oliver was shocked. "Steal from the police!" he said. "Oh, no, thank you. I'll be sent to prison."

"They won't know."

"They'll see it here and ask who put it here. Then I'll be in real trouble."

"Well," she said impatiently, "why don't you make a notice like theirs? There's no law against painting that I know, and you have lots of paint. Get a piece of metal or wood the same size, paint it blue, and then paint the same words on it in white."

"I can't use the word 'Police'. I'm not the police."

"You're being very difficult," she said. "You can easily leave that word out. Put: *Notice. No Parking.* But paint white letters on blue. Nobody really reads those notices, you know. People see the blue boards and go somewhere else."

"Be reasonable," he said. "If there's only one word in the top line, even a child will see the difference at once."

Lunch over, he left the house. But he was thinking.

For several days a smell of paint filled the house, and the smell was especially bad in the evenings, after Oliver had disappeared into the room beyond the kitchen. Neither of them mentioned the smell.

One night he showed her a new notice-board. It was painted in white letters on blue, it had four words, and it was exactly the same size as the police notices.

"Oh!" she said. "But you told me you weren't allowed to use the word 'Police'. That's exactly like their notice-boards."

"Is it?" he asked. "Look again."

She started to laugh. "You're really rather clever, Oliver, dear," she said.

He carried it out and placed it at the side of the road. With some satisfaction he stood back to look at it. He was quite pleased with what it said:

POLITE NOTICE

NO PARKING

1. Where did Oliver Langley live?

2. Where did he have lunch every day? How far was his home from his office? How did he usually go home for lunch?

3. Where did he usually park his car?

4. What made him angry one day? Could he park his car further up the street? Why not? Where did he park his car then?

5. Had he put up a board in his garden too? What did it say? Was it any use? Why not?

6. What did he tell his wife that he wished to do?

7. What did his wife suggest since their board was too small?

8. Why wouldn't people care even if they saw the board?

9. What was the idea that the wife thought of? Why was Langley shocked at the idea?

10. What did his wife suggest then?

11. Why couldn't Langley use the word "Police" on his board? What if he left the word out?

12. What did the new board say? Were they quite pleased with it? Why?

The Most Important Day In My Life G3p06

 The Most Important Day In My Life

The most important day in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Sullivan, came to me. It was the Third of March,1887,three months before I was seven years old.

That afternoon, I went to the door and waited on the steps, for I guessed from my mother's signs and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen. I did not know what the future would be for me. "Light! Give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour.

I felt the coming footsteps. I stretched out my hand to the person who I thought was my mother. Someone took it, and I was caught up and held close in her arms. It was my teacher.

Then my teacher led me into her room and gave me a doll. When I had played with it a little while, Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word "d-o-l-l". I was at once interested in this word play and tried to imitate it. When I finally succeeded in making the word correctly, I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to my mother, I held up my hand and made the letters for doll. I did not know that I was spelling a word or even that words existed; I was simply making my fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed, I learned to spell in this way a great many words, among them, "pin, hat, cup" and a few verbs like "sit, stand, and walk." But I did not understand what they meant. It was not until my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything had a name.

One day, while I was playing with my new doll, Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap, spelled "d-o-l-l" and tried to make me understand that "d-o-l-l" applied to both. And when she tried to teach me that "m-u-g" is mug and that "w-a-t-e-r" is water, I became impatient. Then she brought me my hat, and I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought made me hop and skip with pleasure.

We walked down the path to the well-house. Someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream flowed over one hand she spelled into the other the word "water", first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the movements of her fingers. Suddenly I became conscious of something forgotten, and I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, and set it free!

I left the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house, everything which I touched seemed to be full of life. That was because I saw everything with the strange, new sight that had come to me.

I learned a great many new words that day. I do not remember what they all were; but I do know that "mother, father, sister, teacher" were among them — words that were to make the world blossom for me.

I felt very happy that day, and it was the first time that I longed for a new day to come.

 

A Pleasant Surprise G3p05

 A Pleasant Surprise

For a long time I had been longing for a piano of my own to practise on.

There was a piano shop on the street through which I went to school every day. Whenever I passed the shop, I would stop, looking at the piano which stood in the corner of the shop window. How I had been dreaming day and night to possess a piano like that!

Unfortunately, my father was just a clerk, he could not afford to buy me an expensive piano, though he knew that I was very anxious for one.

On my birthday, I went as usual to the shop window to look at the piano, but to my surprise the piano had gone. In fact, I should not have been surprised, others had the right to buy it, if they could afford to. Tears filled my eyes when I thought of not being able to see that piano any more.

I had just come back from school, when I heard my mother calling me. I brushed away my tears and went into the dining room where she was. I could not believe my eyes. There was the piano, my piano. "Am I dreaming?" I said to myself. " Come to the piano," my mother told me. I approached it and lifted the glossy lid of the piano, then touched the keys with my fingers. What beautiful tone! I held Mother's hand, not knowing what to say. I knew at once that it was a gift from Father. How I wished that I could kiss him right there! He was still in his office working. I waited eagerly for his return.

As soon as he appeared, I held him tight and kissed him. Hot tears were running down my cheeks when I said: "Thank you very much, Dad!" I could find no words that could express my feelings at that time.

Father had cut down his expenses on cigarettes in order to save up enough money for the gift. How generous and kind of him!

That birthday was the happiest one I had ever had. Later, much later, I came to realize that although the gift was costly, no gift could measure the love of my parents for me.

1. What had the author been longing for? What did she do whenever she passed the piano shop on her way to school every day?

2. Did she think that her father could afford to buy her the expensive piano? Why not?

3. How did she feel when she found the piano no longer in the shop window on her birthday?

4. What did her mother tell her when she was back home after school? What did she see in the dining-room? Could she believe her eyes? How did she feel then?

5. What did she do to her mother to show her happiness? What did she say to her father as soon as he appeared?

6. Was it easy for her father to buy her the piano? What had he had to do in order to buy it?

7. Had the author expected the gift? What did she realize much later?

8. What did the author think of her parents' gift for her?

Musical Half-Notes G3p04

 VII. Practise in making announcements.

There will be a new film tomorrow. The monitor wants the class to know that he will collect the ticket money in the afternoon at about 3 o'clock. He makes the following announcement:
Attention please, everyone! There'll be a new film at Hongsheng Cinema, at 1:30 tomorrow afternoon. The price for tickets is ten fen each.
Those who want to see it, please let me know and have your money ready. I'll collect the ticket money at about 3 o'clock.
Thank you.
Now do the same with the following:
a basketball match, the school playground, 4o'clock, Thursday afternoon, between Class 1 and Class 2, everyone is asked to go and cheer for them after class

VIII. Read the following passage, then answer the questions:

Musical Half-Notes

A musician who played pop music in a club lived in a boarding-house in the centre of London. He always used to get back to his room very late at night and sometimes in the early hours of the morning. He would be so tired when he got back that he would sit on the edge of his bed, take off his shoes and throw them on the floor and say, "Thank goodness, another day is over." He would then get into bed and fall fast asleep.
But the poor lodger who had the room under the musician's was woken up each night, or early in the morning, by the two thuds that the two shoes made as they landed on his ceiling. Finally, he could not stand it any more and went and complained to the musician.
Naturally the musician was very upset and promised that, in future, after taking off his shoes, he would put them down as quietly as possible on the carpet.
The next day, he got back from his club at about one o'clock in the morning, went up to his room, sat on the edge of his bed, took off one shoe and threw it on the floor. He was just about to do the same with the other when he suddenly remembered the promise he had made the day before. So with great care he put the second shoe down silently on the carpet. Then he got into bed and fell fast asleep. An hour later, he was woken up by a violent knocking on his door. It was the lodger who slept in the room just under his.
"Please, please, please," the lodger pleaded, "drop the other shoe. I have been waiting for a whole hour for you to drop it. As soon as you do I can go to sleep."

1. Who was the story about? Where did he live?
2. When did he use to come back?
3. What did he usually do after he got back?
4. What was it that woke up the poor lodger in the room just under the musician's each night? What did he do at last?
5. What did the musician promise to do?
6. When did the musician get back from his club the next day? Did he keep his promise ?
7. Who knocked on the musician's door an hour later?
8. Why couldn't the poor lodger go to sleep?

Letter, Reading Skills G3p03

 

July 1, 19_

Dear Ah Fang,

With this letter I would like to introduce myself to you as a new pen friend. I am eighteen years old and have just graduated from Central High School. High school studies in this country last four to six years. In a few months I will enter a university to study education. I hope to be a teacher.

My interests, besides my studies, are art, music, and sports. I especially enjoy swimming, horseback riding, and skiing. It doesn't snow much where I live, so when the skiing season comes, I have to travel to the mountains about ten hours away by car.

I am enclosing a photograph of myself. I would like to hear from you soon. Please tell me about yourself, your interests, and life in your country. I'm looking forward to being your pen friend and exchanging ideas on various subjects, even though we live so far away from each other.

Your friend,

Bob

Your reply to the letter may begin like this:

July 19, 19_

Dear Bob,

I was very glad to receive your letter of July 4.Thank you for writing. I would be very happy to be your pen friend.

....

VII. Read the following passage, then translate it into Chinese orally:

**Reading Skills**

If you want to get the most out of the study of a language, you must also read for pleasure: novels, plays, travel books, and so on. And in reading books of this kind the important thing is to get on with the reading; to try to grasp what the writer is going to tell you in the book as a whole. This is impossible if you stop and think over the meaning of every single word which happens to be unfamiliar. You cannot enjoy a story if you stop half a dozen times on every page in order to look up words in the dictionary. You may even prevent yourself from understanding the story as a whole by doing this.

When you are reading books of this kind, therefore, you will usually have to rely mainly on the context to help you. If you meet an unfamiliar word, do not let it take too much of your attention from the main thread of the story. In all probability you will meet the same word again a few pages later on in a slightly different context, and each time you see it your understanding of it will become more exact.

The Third Man's Story G3p02

 The Third Man's Story

One evening three men arrived at a New York hotel, where they had booked rooms. It was their first visit to New York and they had visited many interesting places before they came to the hotel. Now they were very tired.

"The rooms which you have booked are on the 43rd floor," said the porter, "but I'm sorry to tell you that the lift is out of order. If the hotel weren't full up, I'd give you rooms on the first floor. So you must use the stairs."

The men, who were not very young, were sad about this, but there was nothing they could do.

They agreed to tell some stories on the way up the stairs. It would make things easier.

The first man began to tell a story. It was very long and when he had finished, they had reached the 14th floor. The second man's story lasted until they had climbed up the 31st floor.

The third man, whose turn it was now to tell his story, suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?" asked his two friends. "Can't you think of a story?"

"Oh, yes," he answered, "I can! But if I tell you my story, you won't like it."

"We shan't go a step further if you refuse to tell us your story," said the other two.

The third man sighed. "All right, then. The story which I'll tell you is very short and very sad. It's the saddest one you've ever heard today. We have left the keys of our rooms downstairs with the porter."

1. Where and when did the story happen? On which floor had the three men booked rooms?

2. How many times had they been to New York city? Why were they very tired when they came to the hotel?

3. What did the porter tell them when they went to get their keys to their rooms? How did they feel then?

4. What did they decide to do to make things easier on the way up the stairs?

5. Which floor had they reached when the first man finished his story? Which floor had they climbed up when the second man finished his story?

6. Why did the third man suddenly stop when it was his turn to tell a story? Was his story long and interesting?

7. Did the other two men like his story? Why?

How Much Land Does a Man Need G3p01

 How Much Land Does a Man Need?

Many years ago, there lived a farmer who wanted to be rich and own a lot of land. A stranger told him of some land for sale nearby. The farmer bought the land. He was content for a while but then again wished to own even more land. The stranger told him of some other land. The farmer bought this land too. This happened several times. The farmer was glad to be increasing his property holdings, but he was never satisfied. The more land he bought, the more he wanted.

One day, the stranger offered to do something for the man. The stranger said that he had a friend some distance away who would sell the farmer all the land he needed for only $300. The farmer went to visit the friend. The friend said that for $300 the farmer could have all the land he might cover by traveling on foot from sunrise to sunset. The farmer was supposed to walk as far as possible within this time, mark the spot and return before sunset. if he arrived late, he would lose both the land and the money.

The farmer agreed and went to bed early that night in order to be well rested for his trip the next day. But he did not sleep well. He dreamed that it was the devil himself who was tempting him. His greed for land was so great, however, that at sunrise he was dressed and ready to leave. He walked and ran all morning in order to cover as much ground as possible. On the return trip he was very tired. He walked slowly, and at the end he had to run a great distance in order to get back before sundown. When he arrived, he fell down exhausted. He died without ever getting up.

At the burial a few days later, the stranger had a smile on his face as he said, "Now the old man has all the land he needs—exactly six feet of it in which to lie. I hope he's satisfied."

1. What did the farmer want?

2. Who told him of some land for sale nearby?

3. Was the farmer content after he bought the land?

4. What happened several times? Was the farmer satisfied now?

5. What did the stranger offer to do for the farmer?

6. What did the stranger's friend say to the farmer?

7. What did the farmer dream that night?

8. Why did he still get ready to leave at sunrise the next day?

9. What did the farmer do all morning? Why?

10. What did he have to do at the end? Why?

11. What happened to him when he got back?

12. Why did the stranger say the old man had all the land he needed in the end?

13. What can you learn from this story?

 

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 9. TWO POEMS

THE BLIND BOY

O say what is that thing call'd Light,

Which I must ne'er enjoy;

What are the blessings of the sight,

O tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wondrous things you see,

You say the sun shines bright;

I feel him warm, but how can he

Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make

Whene'er I sleep or play;

And could I ever keep awake

With me't were always day.

With heavy sighs I often hear

You mourn my hapless woe;

But sure with patience I can bear

A loss I ne'er can know.

Then let not what I cannot have

My cheer of mind destroy:

Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,

Although a poor blind boy.

C. Cibber

THE DAFFODILS

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils,

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:—

A Poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company!

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought;

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

W. Wordsworth

THE DOG THAT SET ME FREE G3sr08

 8. THE DOG THAT SET ME FREE

The closest brush I have ever had with death happened because I am blind. I was to give a speech, and I was late. I had 15 minutes to get from my hotel to the meeting.

With Buddy, my German shepherd guide dog, I left my room on the 14th floor and hurried down the hall to the elevator. There Buddy stopped and stood still. Always before she had pointed with her nose to the call button, but this time she didn't. "Forward," I commanded. She did not obey! I let go of the dog and started forward. Buddy immediately threw herself across my legs, pushing so hard that I could not move ahead. At that moment a maid coming out of one of the rooms let out a terrified cry. "Don't move!" she shouted. "The elevator door's open, but the elevator's not there! There's only a hole!"

Had Buddy let me take two more steps I would have disappeared down the empty shaft!

*"I Want One of Those Dogs"*

A few years earlier I had never heard of guide dogs for the blind. I was 20 years old, living in a closed world of blindness, completely dependent upon others. Then one day— November 5,1927— my father read me a magazine article that changed my life. I heard how German shepherd dogs had been trained to take the place of a blind man's eyes!

I wrote the author of the article, Mrs Dorothy Eustis. "Is what you say really true?" I asked. "If so, I want one of those dogs! And I am not alone. Thousands of blind people like me hate being dependent on others. I will help them. Train me and I will bring back my dog and show people here how a blind man can be on his own."

After a long month the answer came—from the village of Vevey in Switzerland. Mrs Eustis would find me a dog, she said. But to get my dog, I would have to go all the way from Nashville, Tennessee, to the mountains of Switzerland!

I did just that. One day in April 1928 I stepped down from the train into the warm sunshine and fresh cool air of Vevey.

"Mr Frank, here we are!" were the first words I heard. It was Mrs Eustis. She shook my hand warmly and then introduced Jack Humphrey. "Jack trained your dog," she said. "And now he'll train you."

The next afternoon Jack brought my dog to me. I heard the door open and the soft fall of the dog's paws on the floor. I knelt and stroked her. How lovely she was!

Her name was Kiss. I pictured myself in a crowd of strangers calling out, "Here, Kiss. Come, Kiss." I knew that wouldn't do! So I put my arms around my new friend and told her, "I'll call you Buddy."

*"That's a Good Girl"*

The next morning my training began. I put on Buddy's harness, with its U-shaped leather handle which was to be my link with her, and met Jack at the front door.

"Pick up your handle in your left hand—the dog always works on your left side," Jack told me. "Keep your shoulders back and walk like a soldier."

"Now give the command 'Forward,' and give it clearly. As soon as the dog responds, praise her."

My heart pounding, I said, "Forward!" The handle almost jerked out of my hand, and we almost ran to the gate. Buddy stopped before it and for a moment I almost lost my balance.

"She's showing you where the latch is," said Jack.

I put my hand on her head and slid it down her nose. A teacher with a wooden pointer couldn't have shown me any better. I lifted the latch and we started through.

With Jack directing me, I gave the commands "Right" and "Forward" and down the road we went. I had not gone so fast in years. I heard Jack say, "Keep your shoulders back." As I straightened, I threw out my chest. It was glorious—just a dog and a leather strap linking me to life.

We were on the road leading to the cable railway that would take us down the mountain into Vevey. I heard the sounds of people, horses, wagons. As I was enjoying it all, Buddy suddenly stopped. "The railway steps, probably, "I thought and slid my foot forward. Sure enough, there was a low platform. How exciting! "Forward! That's a good girl!" I cried. I felt Buddy's harness giving me a gentle pull, and up we went.

Jack sat with us when we found places on the cable car. "Put the dog under your knees so no one steps on her, "he said. I felt the car start jerkily, and 20 minutes later we had made our way down the hill to the little village.

As we walked down the narrow sidewalk the feel of the harness told me Buddy was swerving to the right and I swerved with her. "She just took you around a man carrying two big baskets," said Jack.

At one point Buddy swung out to the left, then back in line again. I sensed no person or building near. "Why did she do that?" I asked Jack.

"Put your hand up," was his answer.

I did, and at about eye level hit the framework of an awning. It would have struck me right in the face except for Buddy. This to me seemed the most amazing guiding she had done. Traveling alone, she would hardly have noticed the awning so far above her. But with me, her eyes had measured it against my six feet. Hers were, indeed, my seeing eyes. "That's a good girl!" I said with feeling.

*"You're on Your Own"*

For five days we took a training trip every morning and afternoon. Then Jack said, "Today you're on your own. I'll follow behind you but I won't help you. If you don't do what I've tried to teach you, you may get hurt."

I listened, but I didn't really believe that Jack would let me get hurt.

Jack carefully reviewed for me every turn and block of the route to the village. Then we set out.

At the gate, instead of stopping immediately when Buddy did, I took two steps and ran right into the post. There was Jack's laugh behind me and a loud "I told you so!"

Buddy stopped as usual at the steps to the railway, but I was nervous and once more failed to halt as quickly as I should have. This time I stumbled and fell. Again Jack just laughed. Brushing off the dust, I clenched my teeth and thought, "That's a mean way to treat a blind man. He could have saved me from falling."

In Vevey, discouraged and angry, I got into trouble at our first corner. Instead of listening for the sound of traffic, I foolishly gave my command, "Forward." Halfway across, Buddy made a sudden stop, then hurriedly backed up, dragging me with her. I felt a car zoom past, so close that I could have touched it. That brought me to my senses. When we reached the safety of the curb, I gave Buddy a hug.

On the trip home I did better. But I was still angry at Jack. When we got back I went to my room and threw myself on the bed. Soon I heard the door open.

"Look, boy"—it was Jack's voice—"you have your choice. You can be just another blind man or you can be a man on your own with Buddy's eyes to help you. You can't lean on me. If I have to follow you and tell you everything, you aren't going to depend on your dog."

I didn't answer.

That night I went to bed feeling ashamed and lonely and discouraged. What if I couldn't learn to use a guide dog after all? What a fool I'd feel returning to Nashville and having to say I had failed. The other blind people I wanted to help would never know I had tried.

Then, as if she knew how I felt, Buddy got up from her place by my bed. She crawled up on top of the covers beside me, nuzzling my neck.

My spirits lifted, and I began reviewing our morning trip. Really, it had not been so bad. I had made mistakes, but I had learned from them. And I had done fairly well on the last part of the trip. Most important, Buddy had shown me that if I did my part we two would walk together in safety. I dropped off to sleep with the comfort of Buddy beside me.

*Two Challenges*

Several weeks later I was really on my own with Buddy. I even went to Vevey and got a haircut —without Jack along.

As the time drew near for me to "graduate" and go back home, Mrs Eustis, Jack and I talked about my hopes for bringing guide dogs to the blind in America.

"Whether any school for guide dogs can ever get started at all depends upon two things." Mrs Eustis warned me. "Number one, few people will believe that a dog can give you complete freedom of movement. So you and Buddy will have to go from city to city and prove that it is nearly as easy for you to get about as for any person who has sight."

I shuddered, thinking of the traffic in a big city.

"Number two," Mrs Eustis continued, "you must not forget that signs saying 'No dogs allowed' are almost everywhere. They're in restaurants, hotels and stores, and on trains and buses. If the blind man's dog can't be with him wherever he goes, of what value is it to him? So your second task is to get Buddy accepted all over America with no more fuss than if she were a blind man's cane."

This, too, was no easy task.

"If you and Buddy can meet these two challenges," she finished, "I will put up $10,000 and will help you start the guide-dog school."

*Buddy's Triumph*

Our first real challenge in America came right after Buddy and I arrived in New York. One of the reporters who met the boat dared me to cross West Street. I had never heard of West Street. If I had, I would not have answered so quickly.

"Show us where it is," I told the reporter. "We'll cross it."

"It's right here," he said.

"Okay," I said confidently. "Buddy, Forward."

We entered a street so noisy that it was like entering a wall of sound. Buddy went about four paces and halted. A deafening roar and a rush of hot air told me a huge truck was passing by. Buddy moved forward, stopped, backed up and started again. I lost all sense of direction and surrendered myself entirely to the dog. I shall never forget the next three minutes. Trucks zoomed past, cabs blew their horns in our ears, drivers shouted at us.

When we finally got to the other side, I leaned over and gave Buddy a big hug and told her what a good, good girl she was.

"She sure is a good girl," exclaimed a voice at my elbow—one of the photographers. "Some of the other fellows are still back on the other side!"

After that, Fifth Avenue, Broadway and other busy New York streets were almost easy. All during our stay in New York photographers and newsmen trailed us. Everywhere people spoke to Buddy and petted her. She did her work grandly and with pleasure. In a week she had conquered the biggest city in the world.

By the time we reached home, Buddy had triumphed in Philadelphia and Cincinnati, as well as in New York. Newspaper and magazine stories about her spread across the country.

Happily, I went to a telegraph office in Nashville. "I want to send a cable. Address it Eustis, Vevey, Switzerland," I told the clerk.

"Yes, sir. And what is the message?"

"SUCCESS!"

"Is that all?" he asked, unbelievingly. "Just one word?"

"Yes," I told him, "that tells everything."

*A Final Tribute*

Late in January,1929, Mrs Eustis, Jack Humphrey and I organized The Seeing Eye. We named it after the title of the magazine article that had meant so much to me. And exactly one year and three months after I came across that article we opened our school.

Buddy and I went all over the country to raise money for The Seeing Eye. I told the story — and always Buddy stole the show.

In 1938 Buddy died. She was 12 years old. At that time in America 350 dogs were already guiding blind men and women. It was Buddy who made this great service to the blind possible. She was a true pioneer—and my loyal friend.

SING FOR ME G3sr07

 7. SING FOR ME

In addition to my son, Adrian, there were seven children in his ward at The Hospital for Sick Children in London. They ranged from Adrian, who was four, through Carolyn, Elizabeth, Joseph, Hermie, Miriam and Sally, to 12-year-old Freddie.

All of the young patients were victims of leukemic diseases and didn't have long to live. All, that is, except one—beautiful, green-eyed, golden-haired Elizabeth, who was ten years old. After completing a period of treatment with the other children, she would be able to go home and live a healthy life. Yet the other children felt a genuine and profound sympathy for the little girl. This I learned when I paid my daily visits to my son and talked with him and the others. Companions in distress, the children shared everything, even their parents.

Elizabeth, who had undergone complicated surgery in the region behind her ears, was going deaf. It would be only a matter of months before her hearing loss was complete. Elizabeth was an ardent music lover, who possessed a clear and delightful singing voice and showed promise as a pianist, which made the prospect of her deafness all the more tragic. But she never complained. Occasionally, though, when she thought no one was looking, silent tears would form in her eyes and slowly roll down her cheeks.

Elizabeth loved music more than anything else, and she enjoyed listening as much as she enjoyed performing. Frequently, after I had helped my son prepare for bed, she would make a sign to me to come into the playroom, which was quiet after the day's activities. Seating herself in a big armchair, and making room for me to sit beside her, she would take my hand and say, "Sing for me."

I could not deny her request. Facing her so she could see my lips, and forming the words as clearly as I could, I would sing a couple of songs. She would listen intently and with obvious enjoyment, then thank me with a quick kiss on the forehead

The other children, as I have said, were disturbed by the little girl's plight and decided to do something to cheer her up. Under Freddie's leadership they came to a decision, which they took to their nurse Hilda Kirby, who, they knew, was their friend.

At first, Kirby was taken aback by their announcement. "You want to give a concert for Elizabeth's 11th birthday?" she exclaimed. "And it's in three weeks' time? You're mad." Upon seeing the look on their faces, she added, "You're all mad. But I'll help you."

Kirby lost no time in keeping her promise. As soon as she was off duty, Kirby took a cab to a conservatory of music to see her friend, Sister Mary Joseph, who was a voice and choir teacher. After a brief greeting, the nun came right to the point. "Kirby," she asked, "what do you intend to involve me in now?"

"Mary J," replied Kirby, "is it possible to turn a small group of children, none of whom has had any musical training, into a choir, capable of giving a concert in three weeks?"

"It is possible," replied Sister Mary Joseph. "Not very probable, but possible."

"Bless you, Mary J," exclaimed the nurse. "I knew you would."

"Just a minute, Kirby," said the bewildered nun. "Tell me more. Maybe I am unworthy of your blessing."

Twenty minutes later, the two parted on the steps of the conservatory. "Bless you, Mary J," repeated Kirby. "We'll see you on Wednesday at three."

"What's her name?" demanded Freddie as Kirby told him and the other children about her plan while Elizabeth was undergoing her daily treatment. "Is she a man or a woman, then? How can she be called 'Mary Joseph'?"

"She's a nun, Freddie. She teaches at one of the best music schools in London. It'd cost you two guineas an hour to take lessons from her. And she's going to train you—for free."

"Great!" exclaimed Hermie. "We'll do it."

So it was settled. Under Sister Mary Joseph's able direction, the children practiced each day while Elizabeth was undergoing treatment. There was only one big problem: how to include nine-year-old Joseph in the concert. Clearly, Joseph could not be left out, but, following surgery, he could no longer use his vocal cords.

"Joseph," the nun told him, after she had noticed him watching sadly as the others were assigned their singing parts, "You will sit beside me and turn the music pages as I play the piano."

For a brief moment, Joseph's eyes shone. Then, close to tears, he wrote quickly on his note pad. "But, Sister, I can't read music."

Sister Mary Joseph smiled down at the anxious little boy. "Don't worry, Joseph," she assured him, "you will."

Incredibly, within the three weeks Sister Mary Joseph and Kirby turned six dying children, none of whom had any noticeable musical talent, into an acceptable choir, and a little boy who could neither sing nor speak into a confident page-turner.

Equally remarkable, the secret was well kept. When Elizabeth was led into the hospital chapel on the afternoon of her birthday and seated on a "throne"(a wheelchair) her surprise was genuine. Her pretty face flushed with excitement, and she leaned forward to listen.

Although the audience—ten parents and three nurses—sat only a few feet from the platform, we had some difficulty in seeing the faces of the children clearly. But we didn't have any trouble hearing them. Sister Mary Joseph had told the children just before the program began, "You know she can hear very little, so give it all you've got." And they did.

The concert was a great success. Elizabeth said it was the best birthday she had ever had. The choir almost burst with pride. Joseph beamed. The rest of us, I'm afraid, shed more tears.

Anyone who is close to desperately ill or dying children realizes that it is not the hopelessness of their situation, nor even their physical suffering, that is so hard to bear. It is their will to keep fighting, their courage in the face of overwhelming odds, that breaks your heart.

I have no printed program for the most memorable of all the concerts I have attended. Nevertheless, I have never heard, nor do I expect to hear, more beautiful music. If I close my eyes, I can still hear every note.

Those six young voices have been stilled now many years. All seven members of the choir are sleeping. But I guarantee that Elizabeth, now married and the mother of her own golden-haired, green-eyed daughter, can still hear, in the ear of her memory, those six young voices which were among the last sounds she ever heard.

MYSTERIES OF MIGRATION G3sr06

 6. MYSTERIES OF MIGRATION

Winter weather comes with its extreme coldness and low supply of food. Since most animals can not survive in it, they either sleep through it or migrate.

The urge to migrate is very strong in some birds. Each year the tern can produce offspring only during a two-month period. During those two months the tern lives in the region near the North Pole. In the ten months between this time and the next, he flies all the way from the North Pole to the South Pole, and then back north again. That is a distance of about 22,000miles. To accomplish this, the tern must fly about 75miles every day for ten months!

What causes birds to migrate? How do they know when to migrate? How do they find their way on such long trips? And why do they come back from those warm comfortable places?

Studies in New York State show that it is the bird's biological time clock that causes a bird to migrate. A bird specialist kept some birds in a planetarium. He was surprised to find that they didn't pay any attention to the stars in the ceiling when migration time came. But then he gradually gave them periods of false daylight, making the days shorter and shorter, as they are in the fall. Within a few weeks the birds tried their best to fly south. He also found that the birds navigate by the North Star once they get the urge to migrate. In fact, when the North Star was removed from the false sky, the birds became completely confused and flew in all different directions.

Some birds find their way by the position of the sun in the sky. But most birds migrate at night. Apparently they migrate by the stars just as pilots of ships do.

This was shown scientifically by some studies in Germany recently. Native song birds were kept inside a planetarium. In the center of the floor of a planetarium a machine shoots lights on to the ceiling, making small points of light to look like stars. The operator can imitate the night sky over any part of the earth by changing the machine. Inside the building the birds all became excited on the day of their usual migration. They all tried to fly south to Africa to their winter home.

Then the experimenters changed the lights so that the sky on the ceiling was like that in Russia. At once the birds changed direction in the building to face what would have been the direction of Germany if they had been in Russia. When the false "sky" was slowly changed so that it was again like the one over Germany, the birds again turned to face Africa, trying to escape and fly a thousand miles.

If things are so good in the warm climates that birds return there every winter, why do they come back north every spring? The warm region is crowded with birds, and the short winter stay of the migrants puts space and food on short supply. The area also has many turtles, snakes, and other animals that steal from bird nests, so birds return north to lay their eggs.

Bird migration is the most familiar migration. But other animals migrate too. Every fall monarch butterflies all over Canada and the United States take an extremely long migration trip. They start out singly, then join others in crowds, moving in great numbers through the skies. Sometimes the butterflies fly in a single line, and other times they crowd together in thick black clouds, then stop in trees, making the covered branches move as if they were living.

When you hold a butterfly in your hand and see the thin wings, you wonder how the butterflies can make these long trips. But they fly thousands of miles, often ten to forty miles an hour. No one knows how they find their way to the same places in California, Florida, and Mexico—but they do. And. as did their parents and grandparents, they not only go to the same towns for the winter, but sometimes even land in the same trees. In the spring the butterflies leave the trees and return north again. There they lay their eggs on young plants that are just coming up above the ground. After they lay their eggs, they die.

Other creatures migrate too. Clouds of locusts sometimes cover the sky and eat everything visible. Eels leave the streams of Europe and America in the fall and travel as far as 5,000 miles to reach the Sargasso Sea in the Atlantic Ocean near Central America. Green turtles that live in Brazil set out every two or three years and travel across more than a thousand miles of open sea to lay their eggs on tiny islands in the South Atlantic Ocean. Salmon return to their home streams to lay their eggs, as do other fish.

Many other animals migrate, some short distances, some to the other side of the world.

Man, too, has been a great migrator. Many forces have kept man on the move—wars, religions, food, sickness. The most commonly known migrants were the groups who moved with the changes of seasons. These groups followed the animals north in the spring and south in the fall. For example, the American Plains Indian followed the buffalo for centuries.

Man started his life upon the earth moving from one place to another. Moving frequently, looking for food, hunting here, picking fruit there—this was the earliest human way. That urge to move is still in most of us, but it is also balanced with the opposite and newer urge to farm and build cities.

A GIFT FOR MOTHER'S DAY G3sr05

 5. A GIFT FOR MOTHER'S DAY

The family had just moved and the young woman was feeling a little melancholy on that Sunday in May. After all, it was Mother's Day—and 800 miles separated her from her parents in another state far away.

She had phoned her mother that morning to wish her a happy Mother's Day, and her mother had mentioned how colorful the yard was, now that spring had arrived. As they talked, the younger woman could almost smell the purple lilacs hanging on the big bush outside her parents' back door.

Later, when she mentioned to her husband how she missed those lilacs, he sat up from his chair. "I know where we can find all you want," he said. "Get the kids and come on."

So off they went, driving down the country roads on the kind of day only mid-May can produce: sparkling sunshine, clear blue skies and green grass and trees growing all around.

They stopped at the foot of a hill.

"Come with me," the man said. "Over that hill is an old cellar hole, part of somebody's farm of years ago, and there are lilacs all around it. The man who owns this land said I could come here anytime. I'm sure he won't mind if we pick a few lilacs."

Before they got halfway up the hill, the fragrance of the lilacs drifted down to them, and the children started running. Soon, the mother began running, too, until she reached the top.

There, far from view of passing cars were the tall bushes of beautiful purple lilacs. The young woman rushed up to the nearest bush and buried her face in the flowers, drinking in their fragrance and the memories it recalled.

While the man examined the cellar hole and tried to explain to the children what the house must have looked like, the woman drifted among the lilacs. Carefully, she chose a few blossoms here, a few more there. She was in no hurry. To her, each blossom was a rare and delicate treasure.

Finally, though, they returned to their car for the trip home. While the children chattered and the man drove, the woman sat smiling, surrounded by her flowers, a faraway look in her eyes.

When they were within three miles of home, she suddenly shouted to her husband, “Stop Stop right here!”

The man brought the car to a stop. Before he could ask her why, the woman was out of the car and hurrying up a nearby slope with the lilacs in her arms.

At the top of the hill was a nursing home. It was such a beautiful spring day that the patients were outdoors strolling with relatives or sitting on the porch.

The young woman went to the end of the porch. There an elderly patient was sitting in her wheelchair, alone, head bowed, her back to most of the others. Across the porch railing went the flowers, into the lap of the old woman. Surprised, she lifted her head, then a smile lit up her face.

For a few moments, the two women chatted, both glowing with happiness. Then the young woman turned and ran back to her family.

As the car pulled away, the woman in the wheelchair waved, and clutched the lilacs to her heart.

"Mom," the kids asked, "who was that woman? Why did you give her our flowers?"

The mother said nothing for a moment. "I don't know her, nor do I know who she is," the woman said softly. "But it's Mother's Day, and she seemed so alone." "Besides," she added, "I have all of you, and I still have my mother, even if she is far away. Just think how much those flowers meant to her."

Since then, every Mother's Day, the family gather bouquets of purple lilacs they have planted themselves. And every year they think of that smile on the lonely old woman's face, and the kindness that put the smile there.

THE EARTHWORM G3sr04

 4. THE EARTHWORM

Some 2,000 kinds of earthworm wiggle across our world. One giant kind is 12 feet long. One tiny wonder glows like a lantern. Another kind protects itself by shooting out a stinging spray. But the real wonder is the four-inch earthworm most of us know.

If you have gone fishing with worms for bait, you have probably cut an earthworm in two. You may think that he becomes two worms. The chances are against that. But if you pinch off his head or tail, he will probably grow a new one. And if you cut him exactly in half, the head half usually can grow a new tail. The other half often does not have enough food to keep it alive during the three weeks it takes to grow a new head.

The earthworm's body is made up of about 120 ringlike parts. On each of them, except the first and last, are bristles, which keep the worm from slipping as he glides along.

Does the earthworm have a heart? Yes, but not just one. He has four pairs of hearts!

The earthworm has a mouth but no eyes or ears. Still, he can sense the faint light of dawn or the hop of a robin. If he's lucky, the worm will get back to his burrow before the robin catches him.

The earthworm has no lungs. He breathes through his skin, taking oxygen from the air. Underground, he gets oxygen from air spaces in the soil. When water fills up the air spaces, he must come to the surface or drown. That's why we are most likely to see worms after a heavy rain. When it's very dry or warm, the earthworm goes deep underground. There he curls up in a ball in an air space and goes to sleep.

The earthworm spends much of his time burrowing into the earth. But he doesn't dig the way most animals do. He doesn't push the earth aside. Instead he eats it In 24 hours he eats his own weight in leaves, grass and earth. He has been known to dig as far down as eight feet.

Everyone knows that worms are good for catching fish. But do you know that worms are good for plants and for the soil itself? That's really why earthworms can be called wonders.

The tunnels dug out by the earthworm allow air from the surface to enter the soil. The air spaces give plants more room to spread their roots. The worm's tunnels are passages for water too. The soil drains better, thanks to the earthworm.

The earthworm's eating habits improve the soil in other ways. He comes out of his burrow to look for food. And he nibbles at anything from dead insects to dry leaves. He drags leaves into his burrow to eat later. The leaves and other vegetable matter the worm brings underground help to make the soil richer.

The earthworm also brings chemicals from underground to the surface. He eats the soil that holds these chemicals. Then he goes to the surface and deposits the waste from food that has gone through his body. These deposits look like dirt and they are dirt. But in passing through the earthworm's body the chemicals in the soil are changed into a form that plants can use.

In winter the earthworm burrows deep, where the ground does not freeze. There he joins other earthworms. Forming a huge ball, hundreds of them squeeze together. In this way they keep their skins from drying out. When the ground begins to thaw, they all separate and move upward.

The earthworm may live as long as six years. And all that time he is working wonders underground.

STICK-UP G3sr03

 3. STICK-UP

At about 9 a.m. the front door of the jewelry store opened. Two well-dressed men entered. The taller one smiled and said "Good morning" to Mr Ness.

Mr Ness put down the watch he was working on. He got up and went to greet the two men. "Good morning, gentlemen. May I help you?"

"Yes," replied one of the men with a pleasant smile. "Are you Mr Ness?"

"Yes, I'm John Ness."

"Mr Ness, I am Bert Krantz. I was sent here by Mrs Van Loon. I understand you do all her work."

"That's right," said the jeweler.

"Mrs Van Loon said that you are working now on the famous Van Loon pearl brooch—the one that has the very large pearl."

"That's right," replied Mr Ness. "It has been in the Van Loon family for years."

Bert Krantz gave him a broad smile. "Yes, that's the one I mean. It must be worth a fortune."

"Right. The big pearl alone is rated in five figures. With the rest of the stones and the setting, the brooch is worth near a quarter of a million."

“Well, I just wanted to make sure,” replied Krantz, suddenly grabbing Mr Ness' arm. Then he flipped open his coat to let Mr Ness know that he had a gun.

Mr Ness looked at one man and then the other. His face grew pale. “Listen,” continued Krantz. “We know that the time lock on the safe is set for ten o' clock. There are five alarm buttons in the store. We know exactly where they are. I'm warning you, don't touch any of them. All you have to do is go back to work. Then at ten o' clock when the time lock opens up the safe, give us the brooch.”

Krantz let go of Ness' arm and moved up to the front of the store. The other man took a morning paper and sat down in the rear of the store. Mr Ness picked up a package and began to wrap it. In the package were about two dozen watches that sold for about five dollars each.

A young man came in and walked over to Ness. “Good morning, Mr Ness. Is my compass ready?”

“Oh, good morning, Jerry. Yes, it is. Why all the hurry?”

“This afternoon I'm teaching some of our scouts how the compass works. I'm a scoutmaster now, you know.”

“Good! You know I once was a scoutmaster, too. I “Well, I just wanted to make sure,” replied Krantz, suddenly grabbing Mr Ness' arm. Then he flipped open his coat to let Mr Ness know that he had a gun.

Mr Ness looked at one man and then the other. His face grew pale. “Listen,” continued Krantz. “We know that the time lock on the safe is set for ten o' clock. There are five alarm buttons in the store. We know exactly where they are. I'm warning you, don't touch any of them. All you have to do is go back to work. Then at ten o' clock when the time lock opens up the safe, give us the brooch.”

Krantz let go of Ness' arm and moved up to the front of the store. The other man took a morning paper and sat down in the rear of the store. Mr Ness picked up a package and began to wrap it. In the package were about two dozen watches that sold for about five dollars each.

A young man came in and walked over to Ness. “Good morning, Mr Ness. Is my compass ready?”

“Oh, good morning, Jerry. Yes, it is. Why all the hurry?”

“This afternoon I'm teaching some of our scouts how the compass works. I'm a scoutmaster now, you know.”

“Good! You know I once was a scoutmaster, too. I know how eager scouts are to learn. By the way, did you ever teach your scouts the semaphore code?”

“Yes, I did. I'm grateful to you, Mr Ness, for the help you once gave me.”

Mr Ness picked the watches one by one and kept talking as he wiped them off and hung them on a rack. Then he turned to Jerry and said, “Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. When I get to talking about the scouts, I never know when to stop. I'll get your compass.”

He stepped behind the counter, took down the compass, and handed it to Jerry. “Now, don't drop it again,” he said.

Jerry left and the jeweler turned back to work on the watches. In a few minutes two workmen came in the front door. “Are you the man who runs this place?” one of them asked.

“Why, yes.”

“You called yesterday about a leaky faucet in your washroom. We' re sorry we couldn't get here sooner. Where's the washroom?”

“Oh, you're the plumbers. The washroom is back there.”

“Okay,” the man replied. The two men started for the rear of the store. About midway one man set down his tool box. He started to look for something in the bottom. "Well, I haven't any small washers," he said. "There's a box of washers on the seat in the truck. Go get them, Joe."Joe went back outside.

At ten o'clock the time lock on the safe worked as it had been set to. Mr Ness moved over to the safe, reached inside, and handed a small box to Krantz's partner. The man immediately placed the box in his inside pocket.

Just then the door opened and Joe, the "plumber's helper," came in. He had a gun in his hand. "Reach!" he said. "Reach, buddy, and reach high! I'm an officer, and you're under arrest!" Both thieves put up their hands.

The other plumber got out handcuffs and clamped them on the two men. By now Krantz was wondering what had gone wrong. He turned to the jeweler and asked, "What went wrong? Who tipped off the law?"

The jeweler beamed. "Take a good look at the faces of the fifteen watches that I hung up."

Krantz looked and noted that the hands on the watches were turned to match the letters of the semaphore code. Then his jaw dropped as he spelled out the words, HOLD UP GET POLICE.

PAPER AND ITS USES G3sr02

 2. PAPER AND ITS USES

Paper is made of cellulose, a substance from the cell walls of plants. Cellulose fibers are treated with chemicals and mixed with water. The mixture is placed on a fine-meshed screen that lets the water drain off. As the fibers dry they mat together to form a sheet. The sheet is removed from the screen, dried, and pressed smooth to form paper.

The cellulose used in paper today comes mostly from trees. About three fourths of the wood for papermaking comes from softwood trees, such as pine and fir. Cellulose from these trees has a long fiber and makes a strong paper. Cellulose from hardwood trees, such as poplar and birch, has short fibers and is used for making smooth paper. The highest-quality paper is made mostly from cotton fibers obtained from rags.

Paper is one of the most important products ever invented by man. Widespread use of written language would not have been possible without some cheap and practical material to write on. The invention of paper meant that more people could be educated because more books could be printed and distributed. Together with the printing press, paper provided an extremely important way to communicate knowledge.

How much paper do you use every year? Probably you can not answer that question quickly. In 1900 the world's use of paper was about one kilogram for each person a year. Now some countries use as much as 50 kilograms of paper for each person a year. Countries like the United States, England and Sweden use more paper than other countries.

Paper, like many other things that we use today, was first made in China. In Egypt and the West, paper was not very commonly used before the year 1400. The Egyptians wrote on papyrus; Europeans used parchment for many hundreds of years. Parchment was very strong; it was made from the skin of certain young animals. We have learnt some of the most important facts of European history from records that were kept on parchment.

The Chinese first made paper about 2,000 years ago. China still has pieces of paper which were made as long ago as that. But Chinese paper was not made from the wood of trees. It was made from the cellulose of certain plants.

Paper was not made in southern Europe until about the year 1100. Scandinavia, which now makes a great deal of the world's paper, did not begin to make it until 1500. It was a German named Schaeffer who found out that one could make the best paper from trees. After that, the forest countries of Canada, Sweden, Norway, Finland, and the United States became the most important in paper making. Today in Finland, which makes the best paper in the world, the paper industry is the biggest in the land. New papermaking machines are very big, and they make paper very fast. The biggest machines can make a piece of paper 300 metres long and six metres wide in one minute.

When we think of paper, we think of newspapers, books, letters, envelopes, and writing paper. But there are many other uses. Only half of the paper that is made is used for books and newspapers, etc.

Paper is very good for keeping you warm. Houses are often insulated with paper. You have perhaps seen homeless men asleep on a large number of newspapers. They are insulating themselves against the cold. In Finland, where in winter it is sometimes -40° Centigrade, the farmers wear paper boots in the snow. Nothing could be warmer.

Each year, more and more things are made of paper. We have had paper cups, plates, and dishes for a long time. But now we hear that chairs, tables, and even beds can be made of paper. With paper boots and shoes, you can wear paper hats, paper dresses, and paper raincoats. When you have used them once, you throw them away and buy new ones.

The latest in paper seems to be paper houses. These are not small houses for children to play in, but real, big houses for people to live in. You can buy a house with three chief rooms for a comparatively small amount. You can put it up yourself in a few hours, and you can use it for about five years.

People have made paper boats, but they have not yet made paper aeroplanes or cars. Just wait—they probably will.

FACE TO FACE WITH DANGER G3sr01

 1. FACE TO FACE WITH DANGER

*(One afternoon, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn went to a deserted house to look for "hidden treasures.")*

The dead silence of the place almost drove them away. When they finally got up enough courage to go in, they found themselves in a dusty room with broken windows and rotten stairs.

After looking around, they decided to have a look upstairs. Throwing their tools in a corner, they went up. There was nothing there, just more dust. They were about to go down again when Tom suddenly whispered: "Sh! Keep still! Don't move!"

"What is it?" Huck turned as white as a sheet.

"Someone's coming."

"Who is it? Who would be coming to this deserted old place?"

The frightened boys lay down quietly, their eyes fixed to holes in the floor..

Two men came into the room downstairs. One of them was the old deaf and dumb Spaniard who had been hanging around in the town lately. The second was someone they had never seen before.

This man went on with what he had been saying: “No, I've thought it over and it's too dangerous.”

“Don't be a coward！” the “Spaniard” said. The boys were shocked by the voice, not only because the “Spaniard” could now speak, but because it was the voice of the bad man, Joe, whom Tom had exposed as the murderer of Dr Robinson.

After some more talk the two men lay down and soon fell asleep. Tom then rose softly, but the very first step he took produced such a terrible noise that he almost died of fright. He didn't make a second try.

At last, as the sun was setting, the two men below got up. They took out a bag they had hidden in the fireplace. There were hundreds of silver dollars in it. They took out twenty or thirty dollars each. Then, going down on his knees in the corner, Joe began to dig a hole with his knife in order to hide the bag again.

All of a sudden Joe's knife struck something. “What is it？” the other asked.

“It's a box, I believe.” He got the boys' pick and spade and dug the box out.

It was full of gold coins!

“There are thousands of dollars here,” exclaimed Joe, his eyes wide with excitement.

“I've often heard that Murrel's gang was around here one summer,” his friend said. “This is probably their money. Well, now you won't have to do that job that you've been planning.”

“You don't understand,” said Joe, a cruel light shining in his eyes. “It's not her money. It's revenge that I want! And I'll need your help.”

“What shall we do with the money? Bury it?”

“Yes…” Suddenly he stopped. “Why are a pick and a shovel here? And the pick had fresh earth on it. Who brought them here?” He looked around, then looked up. “Do you think they can be upstairs?”

The boys' blood ran cold. Joe put his hand on his knife and turned towards the stairs. The boys could hear him coming upstairs step by step. They were sick with fear.

Crash！ The rotten stairs had broken. Joe landed on the floor.

“Look, Joe,” said his friend, “whoever left those tools here must have seen us and thought we were ghosts. I'm sure they haven't stopped running yet."

Joe stood undecided for some time. "All right," he said. Then the two picked up the box and went out.

The boys let out a long breath.

*(Tom and Huck decided to keep an eye on Joe and try to get the treasure from him. It was decided that Huck was to wait every night near the room where Joe sometimes stayed.)*

Huck had been waiting a long, long time, but nothing had happened. Why not give it up and go to bed?

Just as he was trying to make up his mind, he heard a noise. He jumped into a doorway. The next moment two men passed by him. One seemed to be carrying something under his arm. It must be that box! They were going to hide the treasure in a new place. What should he do? Should he call Tom? No, the men would get away and probably never be found again. He must follow them alone.

The two men took the path that led up the hill. They passed the house of the old Welshman and kept on going. Huck shortened the distance between them now, thinking they would not be able to see him in the darkness. He slowed down after a while, fearing that he was getting too near to be safe. He was about to hurry on again when he heard someone cough not four feet from him! Huck's heart jumped into his mouth. Then he relaxed. He knew where he was—right outside Widow Douglas's yard.

“There are lights, although it's late,” he heard Joe say in a low voice.

“You'd better give it up, then.” This was the voice of the stranger of the deserted house.

“Give it up? Never! Her husband was the judge who had me thrown into prison. And that isn't all. He had me whipped, with all the town looking on! He died, and escaped me. But she'll suffer in his stead”

“Oh, don't kill her!” the other said. “Don't do that”

“Keep your opinion to yourself! You'll help me. If you refuse, I'll kill you”

“All right, but the quicker we do it the better.”

“No, we'll wait until the lights are out. There's no hurry.”

Huck didn't wait to hear more. With the greatest care he stepped back little by little, until he judged that he was safe. Then he flew like the wind. Down, down he raced till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door and the heads of the old man and his sons stuck out from the windows.

“Let me in. Quick! It's Huck Finn！ I've got something important to tell you."

As soon as he was let in, Huck said, "Please don't tell anyone that I told you, or I'll get killed. But the widow's in danger. She's been good to me and I must help her!"

"Speak out, Huck," the old man said. "I promise you that no harm will ever come to you."

Huck hurriedly told them what he had overheard, and a few minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were going silently up the hill towards the widow's house. Huck, hidden behind a great rock, listened anxiously. All of a sudden there was the sound of shots and a cry. Huck waited for nothing more. He rushed down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.

FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH G312

 FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH

Dunkirk is a small port on the northern coast of France. It lies close to Belgium. Before 1940, the town was not widely known. But since that time, it has entered Britain's history in the story of an almost miraculous escape.

In the summer of 1940, Hitler ordered his armies to attack in the West. The Germans drove forward and on the 10th of May they invaded Holland and Belgium. Thousands of tanks and trucks moved forward. They were supported by large numbers of planes. Dive-bombers blasted advanced positions and strong-points. fighters flew at treetop level, firing cannons and machine-guns at lines of trans-port. Troops were dropped or landed by gliders behind the defenders.

The British Expeditionary Force had been in France since the end of 1939. Shortly after the war began, British soldiers were transported across the English Channel to fight beside their French allies. When the German invasion of Belgium took place in May 1940, British forces moved into that country to help the Belgians.

But the German battle plan had been well prepared. A few days later, the German armies launched blows at the French defences around Sedan. Soon they broke through. They moved with a speed which bewildered the defenders. tanks and armoured cars thrust deep behind the French lines.

The British forces had to fall back quickly, but suddenly they found their retreat cut off. They were surrounded on the open beaches of Dunkirk.

In Britain there was deep gloom. The strength and success of the German advance had surprised everybody. The French Army was being mashed. The British Expeditionary Force seemed to be trapped at Dunkirk. Perhaps a few men would escape, but it seemed as if the majority would have to surrender. The blow would be so heavy that Britain might have to ask for peace.

Then the miracle began.

No one knows exactly how it began, how word was spread, but somehow the message was passed that Englishmen were trapped and dying on the beaches of France and that other Englishmen must go to take them off those beaches. Small boats were needed, anything that could float and move under its own power—life-boats, tugs, fishing boats, pleasure boats. Large and small, new and old, wide and narrow, fast and slow, they moved down to the shore. The "crews" were made up of bankers and doctors, taxi drivers and sportsmen, old longshoremen and very young boys, engineers and fishermen. There were fresh-faced young Sea Scouts and old men with white hair blowing in the wind. Some were poor, with not even a raincoat to protect them from the weather, others were owners of great wealth and property. A few had machine guns, some had rifles and old hunting-guns, but most had nothing but their own brave hearts.

Off they went at sundown on May 26, more than a thousand boats in all. It was a miracle that so many had been able to come together at one place at one time, and even more miraculous that crews had been found for them. But now came the strangest part of the miracle. The English Channel, ordinarily one of the roughest places in the world—no place at all for a small boat— suddenly became calm and flat. The little boats went out into a calm night, headed for the French coast, where anxious British soldiers were waiting. Coming up behind them were warships and gunboats.

Suddenly out of the night dozens of flares were dropped over Dunkirk by German bombers. They lit up a terrible scene: wrecked and burning ships everywhere, thousands of British soldiers standing deep in the water holding their weapons over their heads, hundreds of thousands more in lines on the beaches. Through it all moved the little boats coming to the rescue.

The planes came in to attack. But the people on the little boats fought back, firing rifles and old guns as the dive-bombers screamed down. Bombs exploded everywhere. Through it all, the little boats continued to move in to the beach and began taking aboard the soldiers.

Those who were there will never forget the long lines of tired men staggering across the beach, falling into the little boats, while others, caught where they stood, died among the bombs and bullets.

The amazing thing was the lack of panic. There was no mad rush for boats. The men moved slowly forward, neck deep in the water, with their officers guiding them. As those in front were dragged aboard the boats, those in the rear moved up, until at last it was their turn to be pulled up over the side.

Boats that had never carried more than a dozen people at a time were now carrying sixty or more. Somehow they backed off the beach, remained floating, took their loads out to the larger ships waiting offshore and then returned to the beach for more men.

German guns and German planes rained down bombs, shells, and bullets until the little boats seemed to be moving through a sea of fire. The Germans were closing in for the kill. Still the little boats went about their business. moving steadily through the water.

All through the long hours, the work went on. The old men and boys who made up the crews kept pulling the men aboard, made the wounded as comfortable as possible, took them out to the larger ships, then returned for more. No matter how many times they made the trip, there were still more men, waiting to be rescued.

And then at long last, on the morning of June 4, with the fires growing pale against the daylight and the dive-bombers sweeping in for the kill, the job was done; the beach was empty of life. The “fleet” turned and started home to England.

It had been hoped that some 30,000 men might be rescued. What the little boats actually did was to take off 335,000 men, the best of the British army. Although their heavy equipment was lost, the men were saved.

Britain had suffered a defeat, but thanks to the courage and skill of those who manned the boats, the British army was ready to fight again, with what is now called the “Dunkirk Spirit.”