ALBERT Einstein G207

 ALBERT Einstein

(Continued)

As time went on, Einstein's theory proved to be correct and by 1914 he had become famous all over the world. His work was stopped, however, by the First World War. The war and the suffering that it caused affected him greatly. He lost interest in much of his research. Only when the war was over in 1918 was he able to get happily back to work. During the postwar years in Germany, many honors were given to Einstein. He won the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1921. In 1929 a great celebration was held on his fiftieth birthday in Berlin. Being a shy man, Einstein did not attend, but he received several baskets full of cards, letters and telegrams of congratulation. The gifts to him would have filled a railway car.

When Hitler came into power in Germany, Einstein, who was a Jew, found the doors of study closed to him. Not only was everything that he had taken away from him, but also his German citizenship. He became a man without a country.

Fleeing Germany, Einstein went first to France, then to Belgium, and then to Britain. There he received a letter inviting him to go to the United States to teach at a well-known research institute at Princeton. He accepted, but asked for a very small salary. Einstein cared little for money, though he could have been very rich. He once refused to speak on the radio for $1,000 a minute. Another time he was seen using a check for $1,500 as a bookmark. Then he lost the book!

In 1940 Einstein became an American citizen. He lived the rest of his life in the United States. Besides his work in physics, he spent much time working for human rights and progress.

Like many scientists, Einstein loved music; he played the violin fairly well. In Princeton he lived quietly, working at the institute and enjoying himself by playing his violin in his simple home. Often there were visitors like the twelve-year-old girl who, for a time, formed the habit of visiting him on her way home from school. After some time, the puzzled mother of the girl met Dr. Einstein and asked him what he and her daughter talked about. The doctor smiled and explained: “Oh, she brings me cookies, and I do her arithmetic homework for her.”

Such was Albert Einstein, a simple man of great achievements.

ALBERT EINSTEIN G206

 ALBERT EINSTEIN

Although Princeton, New Jersey, has a world-famous university, it is still a small quiet town. It is not a place where anyone would expect to see strange characters on the street. That is why one woman will never forget the day in 1940 when, as a child, she suddenly saw a funny-looking man coming toward her. "I remember," she tells her children now, "how wild his white hair looked—as if it had been electrified. He was short. His clothes seemed to be just pulled on to keep him covered, like a blanket to keep one warm. He had a big nose, a short, thick moustache, and deep-set eyes. He was staring, thinking. He almost knocked me down before he saw me. He gave me a friendly smile, then he walked on and went on thinking. I noticed he had on bedroom slippers. He had forgotten to put on his shoes. He looked as if he had just stepped out of my book of fairy tales and had passed me like a spirit. That night at dinner when I told my family about the strange, funny man I had seen, my father put down his knife and fork, looked at me and said, "My child, remember this. Today you saw the greatest man in the world!"

That man was Albert Einstein. How and why he had come to Princeton, New Jersey is a story of struggle, success, and sadness.

Einstein was born in Ulm, Germany in 1879. When he was a boy, he liked to ask questions. By the time he was fourteen years old, he had learned advanced mathematics all by himself. By then he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. He wanted to be a physicist and devote himself to abstract research.

The Einsteins, however, could not pay for the advanced education that young Albert needed. But the family did manage to send him to a technical school and later to the Federal Institute of Technology in Switzerland. After graduation, he went to work, first as a teacher, then in a government office. With the pay that he received and saved, he was later able to go on with his education at the University of Zurich, where he received a doctor's degree in 1905. This was the period when he first began the research and studies which led to his famous Theory of Relativity.

His theory was so advanced that few people could understand it at that time and even fewer would accept it. Many scientists laughed at it. But Einstein stuck to his theory and went on with his research.

(To be continued)

WINTER SLEEP G205

 WINTER SLEEP

Some birds will fly away to the south when the weather turns cold. Other birds and all animals stay with you, but you will not see all the animals all through the winter. In the cold weather some of them hibernate.

They go to sleep in all kinds of places. Red squirrels disappear inside trees, bears use caves, frogs go deep under the mud, and many other animals dig tunnels in the earth. A good many animals sleep under the snow. There is a lot of air in loose snow, and this helps to keep the cold out.

Some warm-blooded animals, like the cat, the dog or the wolf, do not need to hibernate; they lead an active life which keeps up their normal body temperature even in very cold winter weather. But for a cold-blooded creature such as a frog or a snake it is a different matter. When the air temperature is below freezing, the creature's body temperature drops too. It cannot move about in its usual way. Then it has no choice but to lie down and sleep. To do that, it must find a place where it can keep fairly warm; and it must be a place where its enemies cannot find it.

Hibernation is more than sleep. It is a very deep sleep. The animal's temperature drops to just over zero centigrade, and its heart beats very slowly. People who find hibernating animals asleep often think that they are dead: the body feels very cold, and the creature may breathe only once every five minutes. A hibernating animal cannot feel any pain. You can touch it, or even pull its tail, without causing it to move or wake up. In its hibernating state it can even live in a poisonous atmosphere for a long time without any ill effect.

Hibernating in that way, the animal can sleep all through the winter. You might wonder how it manages to live without eating for so many months. The answer lies in two facts. The first is that it has stored supplies of fat in its body during the summer and autumn. The second is connected with the main use the body makes of food—to supply the energy for movement. We have seen that the hibernating animal reduces movement to far below the ordinary level. Even the movements of the heart and lungs are greatly reduced. The animal hardly makes any movement, hardly uses any energy, and hardly needs any food.

Some animals, including some bears, only half-hibernate. That is to say, they sleep during the winter but their sleep is not such a deep one, and their body temperature does not drop. In the autumn the bear eats and eats and becomes very fat indeed. His hair grows longer. Soon he has a thick covering of fat and fur. In November he finds a place in a cave or under a tree and just lies down and goes to sleep. On warm winter days he may think that spring has arrived; he gets up and walks around. When he sees that the snow is still thick on the ground, he quickly goes to sleep again.

The squirrel is an animal which makes secret food stores for the winter. It hides large quantities of nuts inside trees. In the old stories which taught moral lessons to children, the squirrel was a 'good' animal: it saved something for the future.

ALL THESE THINGS ARE TO BE ANSWERED FOR G204

 ALL THESE THINGS ARE TO BE ANSWERED FOR

(Continued)

"We were robbed by that man who is standing there, taxed by him without mercy, obliged to work for him without pay, obliged to feed scores of his tame birds on our wretched crops, and forbidden to keep a single bird of our own—I say, we were so robbed, and were made so poor, that our father told us it was a dreadful thing to bring a child into the world."

I had never before seen the feeling of being oppressed, bursting forth like a fire. I had supposed that it must be latent somewhere in the people, but I had never seen it break out, until I saw it in the dying boy.

"Doctor, my sister married the man she was engaged to. He was ill at the time, and she married him so that she might tend and comfort him in our cottage. She had not been married many weeks when that man's younger brother saw her and was struck by her beauty. Then with that man's permission and even with his help, he seized her and took her away. I saw them pass me on the road. When I told our father about this, his heart burst. Then, last night I followed him here, and climbed in, sword in hand.

"My sister heard me, and ran in. Then that man's brother came in. He first threw me some pieces of money, then struck me with a whip. As I fought back, he drew his sword and thrust it at me.

"Now, lift me up, Doctor; lift me up. Where is he?"

"He is not here," I said, supporting the boy. I thought that he was referring to the younger of the two noblemen.

"Ha! Proud as these nobles are, he is afraid to see me. Where is the man who was here? Turn my face to him."

I did so, raising the boy's head against my knee. But, filled for the moment with extraordinary strength, he raised himself completely, obliging me to rise too, or I could not have supported him.

"Marquis," said the boy, turning to the man, his eyes opened wide, and his right hand raised," in the days when all these things are to be answered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, to answer for them. In the days when all these things are to be answered for, I summon your brother, the worst of your bad race, to answer for them separately."

He stood for an instant with his hand still raised. Then, as it dropped, he dropped with it, and I laid him down dead.

ALL THESE THINGS ARE TO BE ANSWERED FOR G203

 ALL THESE THINGS ARE TO BE ANSWERED FOR

The following account was written by Alexandre Manette, a French doctor, in 1767 when he was a prisoner in the Bastille in France.

In his account Dr. Manette told the story of the great wrong done to him. When he was walking by the river Seine one night in December 1757, two noblemen forced him into their carriage and took him to a lonely house. There, in a room upstairs, he found a young and beautiful girl, who kept shouting and crying, obviously mad. He did what he could to calm her, and then he was taken down to another room, where he found a wounded peasant boy, who was dying. The boy told him his story and also that of the girl upstairs, who was his sister, and of the terrible wrongs that had been done them by the two noblemen. The boy died, and a week later, so did his sister.

The doctor wrote a letter to the Minister disclosing the whole affair. The next day he was kidnapped and thrown into the Bastille.

The following is taken from Dr. Manette's account of his meeting with the boy and of what the boy told him.

* *         *

The older of the two noblemen took a light and led me into a back room. There on some hay on the ground lay a peasant boy of not more than seventeen. He lay on his back, his teeth set, his right hand clenched on his breast, and his glaring eyes looking straight upward. I could not see where his wound was as I knelt on one knee over him, but I could see that he was dying.

“I am a doctor, my poor fellow,” said I. “Let me examine you.”

“I do not want to be examined,” he answered. “Let me be.”

The wound was under his hand, and I persuaded him to let me move his hand away. It was a sword-thrust, received from twenty to twenty-four hours before, but nothing could have saved him even if he had been tended without delay. He was then dying fast.

“How did this happen, monsieur?” said I.

“A serf! He forced my brother to draw upon him, and fell by my brother's sword,” said the nobleman.

The boy's eyes had slowly moved to the nobleman as he spoke, and they now moved to me. Slowly, he spoke out:

“He is lying, Doctor. I have a sister. She was engaged to a young man, a Tenant of his. We were all tenants of his—of that man who is standing there.”

It was with the greatest difficulty that the boy gathered the strength to speak, but he spoke with a frightful emphasis.

(To be continued)

THE TALLEST GRASS G202

 THE TALLEST GRASS

Did you ever see grass growing high as a tree—a tall tree? Bamboo is this kind of grass. It grows up straight and thin, with branches at the top.

Although bamboo is really a kind of grass, it looks more like a tree—a beautiful tree. It has long leaves that sway in the wind like slim fingers reaching to touch something. Chinese and Japanese poets write poems and songs about bamboo, and artists paint it in pictures.

Not all bamboo grows tall. Altogether there are more than 500 different kinds of bamboo, and some grow no higher than your ankles. Bamboo grows best in places where it is warm and where it rains often. Some kinds of bamboo grow very fast. If they are growing near a house, their slim leaves brush the roof gently and cool the house with their shade.

Some bloom and have seeds every year.

Some never bloom at all. Some bloom only once, after living about 40 years, and then die. However, new shoots of bamboo will come up from around the roots of the old ones.

But the most interesting thing about this remarkable plant is what people do with it after it is cut down. Bamboo probably has more uses than any other plant in the world.

Bamboo is not a tree, remember, so the long straight stems of bamboo are not like tree wood. They are hollow, which makes them very light. You could lift a big piece of bamboo with one hand. At the same time, bamboo is so strong that people use it to build houses, and even high bridges over rivers.

In warm countries, many people have their houses made almost entirely of bamboo: the walls, the roof, the floor. Nearly everything inside their houses is made of bamboo, too. The chairs, tables, curtains, cooking pots, flower vases, drinking cups, birdcages, and so on are all made of bamboo. And the fence around their garden is made of bamboo too.

Some bamboo is thinner than your little finger. Some is much thicker than your waist. And because it is hollow, it can be fitted together and used for pipes to carry water. Many farmers' fields are irrigated by water brought from a river or lake through bamboo pipes.

Bamboo is used for more than building. People eat it. The tender young shoots of bamboo are crisp and tasty. They are often found in Chinese or Japanese dishes. Some are put into cans and shipped all over the world.

Bamboo is also made into paper. The soft pulp inside the hard stems is taken out and sent to a factory. There it is made into a fine paper. Bamboo can also be made into good walking sticks and fishing poles.

Who can tell what new use someone may find for this special kind of grass—bamboo?

PORTRAIT OF A TEACHER G201

 PORTRAIT OF A TEACHER

The night before last, just before dinner, while my father was looking through the evening paper, he suddenly let out a cry of surprise. Later he explained: "I had thought that he had died at least twenty years ago. But can you believe that my first teacher, Mr. Crossett, is still living? He is eighty-four years old and yesterday the Department of Education gave him a medal for having completed sixty years of teaching. Sixty years! Can you imagine it? He gave up teaching only two years ago. He lives in Deleville, which is only about an hour's ride from here. Henry, tomorrow is Saturday. Let's drive over there in the afternoon and say hello to him."

The next afternoon my father and I drove over to Deleville to see Mr. Crossett. Everyone in the town knew him so we had no trouble in finding his house. When he came to the door, my father recognized him at once although, of course, he was now a very old man.

“Mr. Crossett,” said my father,” will you permit an old pupil to shake hands with you?”

Mr. Crossett looked at us curiously.

“An old pupil? I'm sorry but ... your name?”

My father told him his name — Albert Borden, the year in which he had studied, and the name of the school.

The old man drooped his head and began to murmur to himself my father's name. Suddenly he looked up.

“Albert Borden? Your father was an engineer, and you lived very near the school.”

“Exactly,” said my father, shaking the old man's hand.

Later my father and Mr. Crossett talked for about half an hour of things and persons they remembered in the school. The old man's hands shook constantly, and he explained to my father how this shaking had begun two years before, and how he had been forced to give up his teaching because of this. Otherwise he would still be working, because his heart and soul were still in the schoolroom with his students. He went to a closet and after a moment brought out a package, marked with name and date. Out of the package he drew a paper and gave it to my father. It was marked with my father's name and with the month and the year. It was one of my father's own copybook exercises! Mr. Crossett thus kept a record of all his old students. My father read the exercise and tears came to his eyes.

On the way home my father told me of an incident that took place on his first day at school in Mr. Crossett's class. During the course of the lesson Mr. Crossett noticed that one of the students looked sick and feverish. He walked to the student's desk and put his hand on the child's forehead. While his back was turned another student in the class got up from his seat, and began to make faces just to make the other students laugh. Mr. Crossett turned rapidly and glared at the student.

"Don't do that again, "he said quietly but firmly. Then he went back to his desk and went on with the lesson. After a while he put down his book, looked at the students in silence for several minutes, then said:

"My friends, we have to spend this year together and we must try to spend it together happily. You should study hard and be good students. I do not want you simply to promise me with words that you will be good. I want you to show me with your hearts that here we are all part of one big family. I want to be proud of you."

At this moment the bell rang announcing the end of class. One by one the students got up from their seats and left the room quietly. The boy who had made faces, however, went up to Mr. Crossett's desk and in a trembling voice said:

"I'm sorry, sir!"

Mr. Crossett patted him affectionately on the head and said:

"Do not think any more about it, my son. Here we are all good friends."