Passage G1b

 ONE OF THE BIGGEST POST OFFICES IN THE WORLD

Charlie, a boy of fifteen, once stayed with his friend Mike, who lives in New York. Mike's father, Mr White, is a postman.

One day Mr White took the boys to one of the biggest post offices in the world. They first went to a very large room which looked like a shop. There were all kinds of things in it: books, clothes, radios, bicycles and many parcels.

“All the parcels with the wrong addresses come to this room,” said Mr White.“People who lose their mail come or write to this office. Sometimes they find their mail. Parcels stay here for two or three months. Then the post office sells them.”

Then they went to the sorting room.

“Look at that big red machine, Charlie,” said Mike. “Do you know what it's for?”

There were men who were putting cans into the machine. The cans went down into a tube.

“What's in those cans?” asked Charlie.

“Letters that go to other parts of New York,” answered Mr White. “Those tubes all go under the ground. The cans with letters go through the tubes to all parts of New York.”

“This is really interesting,” said Charlie. “I didn't know letters went under the ground.”

They then entered a big hall where Charlie bought some stamps. When they came out, Mr White showed them the trucks which were taking mailbags to the trains, planes and boats and bringing in other mail from the planes, trains and boats.

Mail was going in and coming out of the post office all the time.

6

GEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET

When George Washington was quite a little boy, his father gave him a hatchet. It was bright and new, and George took great delight in going about and chopping things with it.

He ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree which seemed to say to him, "Come and cut me down!"

George had often seen his father's men chop down great trees in the forest, and he thought that it would be fine sport to see this tree fall with a crash to the ground. So he set to work with his little hatchet, and, as the tree was a very small one, it did not take long to chop it down.

Soon after that, his father came home.

"Who cut my fine young cherry tree?" he cried. "It was the only tree of its kind in the country, and it cost me a great deal of money."

He was very angry when he came into the house.

“If I only knew who killed that cherry tree,” he cried, “I would ... yes, I would ...”

“Father！” cried little George. “I chopped the tree down with my hatchet.”

His father forgot his anger.

“George,” he said, and he took the little boy in his arms, “George, I am glad that you told me about it. I would rather lose a dozen cherry trees than that you should tell one lie.”

7

THE KING'S DISEASE

Part I

Many years ago there was a king who was very bad-tempered. Every one was afraid of him. The king was bad-tempered because he was often ill. He was often ill because he ate and drank too much.

“I'm always ill,” the king told his doctor. “Why can't you cure me?”

The doctor did not dare to tell the king the reason. He knew this would make the king very angry. “I've given you the best medicine. Your Majesty,” he said. “I've done my best.”

“Your medicine makes me worse,” the king said. “You must cure me before the end of the month or I shall put you in prison. You are trying to poison me.”

“Perhaps your food is making you ill,” the doctor said. What the doctor really wanted to say was: “You eat too much.”

“Nonsense, ”the king shouted. “My cook is the best cook in the world. It is all because you're a fool that I'm often ill. You do not know how to cure me. I pay you to make me well, but what happens? I have a stomachache and a headache every day. Now go and study your books. Find a cure for my disease or ...”

“Yes, yes, Your Majesty,” the doctor said and went to his room. He made a lot of medicine but none of it could cure the king.

At last there were only three days before the end of the month. The doctor went into the forest, where he wanted to see a wise old monk and ask him for advice.

(To be continued)

8

THE KING'S DISEASE

Part 2

The wise old monk listened carefully to the doctor's story. Then he said, “I understand your problem, doctor. You cannot tell the king the truth. He will throw you into prison if you do. You must let the king find out for himself why he is always ill.”

“How can I do that?” the doctor said.

“I have a plan,” the old monk said. “Can you get me an invitation to breakfast at the palace?”

“Yes, I can do that easily,” the doctor answered.

The next morning the monk arrived at the palace. He looked very fat because he had cushions under his robe. And he seemed to enjoy the food very much.

“I like a man who can eat a lot,” the king said.

A few minutes after the meal the monk suddenly fell to the floor.

“Oh, oh” he cried. “My stomach! My head! Oh! Oh”

“Do you have a stomachache and a headache, too?” the king asked.

“Always, Your Majesty,” the old monk said, and he walked painfully out of the room.

On the last day of the month the old monk came to the palace again. He looked thin and healthy.

“You look well,” the king said. “Come and eat with me.”

“No, thank you,” the old monk said. “I eat only one meal a day. I saw your doctor. He is a very clever man and he told me that I ate and drank too much. He was right. Now I do not eat as much as before and I am healthy. I no longer have pains in my stomach or head.”

“That is very interesting,” the king said, “I'll eat and drink less, too. Perhaps it will cure me.”

And of course, it did.