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.”

A SPEECH BY NORMAN BETHUNE G311

 A SPEECH BY NORMAN BETHUNE

Comrades, I thank you for the beautiful banners you have given to me and for the kind things you have said about me.

The eyes of millions of freedom-loving Canadians, Americans and Englishmen are turned to the East and are fixed with admiration on China in her glorious struggle against Japanese imperialism. This hospital has been equipped by your foreign comrades. I have the honor to have been sent as their representative. Do not consider it strange that people like yourselves, 30,000 li away, half way around the globe, are helping you. You and we are internationalists: we recognize no race, no color, no language, no national boundaries to separate and divide us.

It is not many months since I arrived here to work with you in this hospital. I used to think of it as “your” hospital, now I think of it as “our” hospital. From you I have learned many valuable lessons. You have shown me a spirit of selflessness, of working cooperatively, of overcoming great difficulties, and I thank you for those lessons. In return I may have been able to teach you a little about medical technique.

It was the adoption of Western technique that was responsible, in part, for the transformation of Japan from a tenth-rate backward nation into a great power in less than fifty years. Technique, in the hands of the imperialists, has made Japan the enemy of the world. Technique in the hands of the workers of China will make her a great power for world peace. We must use that technique for the happiness and prosperity of the millions and not just to make a few people rich.

Why must we learn good technique? Because good technique in medicine and surgery means more quickly-cured patients, less pain, less discomfort, less death, less disease and less deformity. What is the duty of a doctor, of a nurse, of an orderly? It is our duty to make our patients happy, to help them in their fight back to health and strength.

I cannot close without expressing my admiration for the courage and uncomplaining spirit of our wounded, both of the 8th Route Army and the partisans. For these there is nothing less we can do, than to give them the greatest care and skill, in return for what they have endured and suffered for us. For they have fought, not only for the China of today, but for that great, free, democratic Chinese Republic of tomorrow, which they, and we, may never live to see. The important thing is that both they and we, by our actions now, are making that new Republic possible, are assisting in its birth. But whether it will be born or not depends on our actions today and tomorrow. It is not self-generating. It must be created by the blood and the work of all of us who believe in the future, who believe in man and his glorious man-made destiny. Only in this way is it inevitable.

To those who have fallen, to those whom we have not been able to save, let us say: We shall remember the sacrifices of the dead. Our goal is the new China for which they died. In their memory, in devotion to our great cause, let the living and the dying seal our comradeship. In struggle and sacrifice we shall have one purpose, one thought. Then we will be invincible. Then we will know that even if we do not live to see it, some day those who come after us will gather here, as we do today, to celebrate, not just the building of a model hospital, but of a great and democratic republic for the liberated people of China.

THE SIXTH DIAMOND G310

 THE SIXTH DIAMOND

It was my first job, working as a temporary salesgirl during the Christmas rush at Richardson's, the finest jewelry store in our city.

The job was very important to Mother and me. Dad had passed away and Mother and I did not have enough to live on in those hard Depression years. After graduation, I had spent the summer and fall hunting for a job. Dozens of better-trained persons had been turned down before me. There were just not enough jobs for the number of people out of work. Finally I had managed to get the temporary job at Richardson's.

The department where I worked sold cheap jewelry. It was the kind of work that I liked. I could sell things just by listening to people and finding out what they really wanted. By the end of the first week the head of the department was saying very nice things about me. By the end of the second week she was saying good-by— Mr Richardson, the owner, was sending me to the diamond department.

“It's an honor, you know,” she told me. “Generally we only send our regular people there. Mr Richardson wants a quick, neat girl, someone who can run errands.”

The diamond department was the heart and center of the store. It sold both precious stones and the better kinds of jewelry. My duties were to arrange the goods, keep them clean, help out in the workroom and, above all, run errands.

It was interesting work that I enjoyed thoroughly.

As Christmas drew near, the days became more rushed, but also more exciting. I really loved my work. My only worry was that January would find me hunting for a job again.

One afternoon I heard Mr Richardson say to Mr McCallum, head of the diamond department, “Tell me about the little runner. I like her. She's a cheerful child.”

Part of the reply reached my ears. “Yes,” Mr McCallum said, “she's a good girl. I've been meaning to suggest keeping her on ...” That was all, but it sent me home feeling as if I were on top of the world!

But the next day started badly. And it kept right on that way. I had to run for my bus and got my stockings dirty. Miss Allan, Mr McCallum's assistant, who wanted her people always neat, ordered me to go out and buy another pair. I came back to find that the girl who was working with me was ill and had been sent home. It was only a week until Christmas— the busiest time of the year. We were all nervous.

At 4:30 a call came from Miss Allan. “Please get me the diamond ring from the end showcase,” she said.

As I hurried back, with the ring in my hand, I looked up and noticed a man on the other side of the row of showcases. He was tall, fair and in his early thirties. But it was the expression on his face that stopped me even as I hurried toward Miss Allan's room. It was the look of a great many people in those unhappy Depression years. He looked bitter, angry, bewildered. His well-cut suit, shabby now, told me his story. He was one of thousands trained for jobs they could no longer find. He gazed at the beautiful stones with the despair of a man whose right to earn them has been taken away.

I had a sudden feeling of sympathy. But I had other things on my mind and soon forgot about him.

A few minutes later Miss Allan called for me again.

“Now get the clip that goes with this ring,” Miss Allan said.

The clip was at the very front of the window. To reach it meant climbing up a small set of steps and carefully leaning over the jewelry and other goods on display. I got it. Just as I was backing out, my sleeve caught on the corner of a tray of diamonds. The tray started to fall. I grabbed at it, and six magnificent diamond rings rolled across the floor.

Mr McCallum ran to help me, upset and excited, but not really angry at me. He knew what a day I'd been through. “Pick them up quickly,” he said, “and put the tray back.”

Down on my knees, I said through my tears, “Oh, Mr McCallum, Miss Allan is waiting”

“I'll see to Miss Allan myself, child,” he said. *“Just pick up those rings”*

With the greatest speed I collected five rings and put them in the tray. But I couldn't find the sixth！ I thought it must have slipped through the tiny opening between the showcase and the window. I ran around the counter and looked down. It wasn't there. Just then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the tall man moving quietly toward the door of the shop. a few yards away. At that moment I knew that he had the ring. He had been standing at the only spot to which it could have rolled. I reached him just as he got to the door.

“Excuse me, please,” I said.

He turned, and for an endless minute neither of us spoke. I prayed for some way to save my future in the diamond department. To drop a tray of rings was bad, but that would be forgiven. To lose a ring was unthinkable.

“What do you want?” he asked. He seemed to be a bit nervous.

What should I say? disaster could come to me from what I was sure he'd done. Yet I felt he hadn't come into the store planning to steal. Perhaps he had just wanted to get warm.

“What do you want?” he repeated. Suddenly I had the answer. Mother had always told me people are generally kind. I didn't think this man would want to hurt me. I looked out into the cold fog outside. “This is my first job,” I said softly. “Jobs are hard to get now, aren't they?”

He searched my face, then smiled a very gentle smile. “Yes,” he said. “Indeed they are. But I'm sure you'll do very well in yours. May I wish you luck?”

He put his hand out and clasped mine. “Good luck to you,” I whispered. He opened the door and disappeared in the fog. Then I turned and put the sixth diamond in the tray.

THELANGUAGE OF THE BEES G309

 THELANGUAGE OF THE BEES

Animals, including insects, do not have a language like ours. They do not talk to each other in words and sentences. But if we watch them, we can see that they do have ways of communicating with each other. Professor Karl von Frisch is a scientist whose experiments have thrown great light on the amazing ways honeybees communicate in their dark hives.

Professor von Frisch had worked with bees for many years. He was puzzled by something he had observed again and again. When he placed little dishes of honey on a table, bees soon came. As soon as one bee discovered the honey, many more came to it in a short time. It seemed that one bee was able to communicate the news of food to other bees in its hive. How was this possible? To find out, Von Frisch built special hives, each with only one honeycomb. He built a glass wall through which he could watch what went on inside. In order to tell the bees apart, he painted some bees with little spots of color.

When a marked bee returned to the hive from the feeding table, Von Frisch watched through the glass. To his amazement, the bee began to perform a dance on the surface of the honeycomb. First she made a circle to the right, then to the left. She repeated these circles over and over. But that was not all. The dance seemed to excite the surrounding bees. They trooped behind the first dancer, imitating her movements. Then the bees left the hive and went to the feeding place. The circle dance seemed to communicate news of food. But what else?

Von Frisch wanted to find out whether the dance told how far away the feeding place was. So he set up two feeding places. One was close to the hive. The other was much farther away from the hive. He marked all the bees that came to the nearby feeding place blue, and all the bees that went to the faraway place were marked red. When the bees came back to the hive, Von Frisch saw a curious sight. All the bees that had been at the nearby place were doing the circling dance. All the bees that had been at the distant feeding place were doing a completely different dance, a wagging dance. The dancer ran in a straight line, wagging from side to side. Then she turned in a semicircle, ran straight again, and turned in another semicircle to the opposite side. She kept repeating the “steps” over and over. Things were clear now. The circle dance meant that food was near. The wagging dance meant that food was far away.

But then another question came up. Did the wagging dance tell the bees how far away the food was? To answer this question, Von Frisch and his co-workers set up a feeding place close to the hive. Then they slowly moved it farther and farther away. Back at the hive they watched the wagging dance closely. With a stopwatch, they counted how many times the bees repeated the dance during one minute. They discovered that the farther away the feeding station was, the slower the dance was. The slower the dance was, the fewer the times it could be repeated in a minute. So another amazing fact came to light. The number of wagging dances per minute told the distance to the feeding place.

Next Von Frisch thought that bees needed to know more than just the distance to a faraway place. He thought they needed to know the direction to it. He set out to discover whether the wagging dance showed direction. He put a glass dish with sugar water and honey to the west of the hive. A marked bee fed itself from the dish and returned to the hive. Soon, the bees in the hive flew out. They flew right to the dish. Then Von Frisch moved the dish to the east of the hive and waited for a marked bee to feed. Again the bees flew right to the dish. How did the bees know exactly in which direction to fly?

Von Frisch watched the wagging dance very carefully. He noticed that the straight part of the dance was different in the morning from what it had been in the afternoon. It soon became clear that the straight part of the dance changed when the sun's position changed. If the feeding place was toward the sun, the dancer headed straight upward during the straight part of the wagging dance. If the feeding place was away from the sun, the straight part of the wagging dance pointed downward. The wagging dance of the honeybee, therefore, did show the direction of a feeding place.

What do these experiments of Professor Karl von Frisch tell us about bees? Do bees have minds? Can they figure out direction and distance? There is no scientific answer to these questions at present. All we can say is that bees can and do communicate with each other. Their dances are a kind of "language." But the world of the honeybee is just beginning to be opened to us. More research is being done. Someday, as we understand more about them, we may be able to learn how bees developed their amazing "language."

THE TRIAL G307

 THE TRIAL

Antonio, a merchant in Venice, was liked by everyone because he was always ready to help others. He had many ships which traded with other countries. Now his ships were all at sea.

Bassanio, Antonio's best friend, was in love with Portia, a rich and beautiful lady who also loved him. But he was sad because he could not ask Portia to marry him while he himself had no money. So he asked Antonio to lend him three thousand ducats. Antonio did not have any money just then. He went to Shylock, a cruel moneylender, who hated him, because he had often publicly scolded him for his greed. Shylock agreed to lend Antonio the money on condition that Antonio must promise to give him a pound of his flesh and allow him to cut the flesh from any part of his body if he did not pay back the money at the end of three months. Antonio agreed, took the three thousand ducats and gave the money to Bassanio.

Bassanio and Portia arranged to get married. It so happened that Bassanio's servant Gratiano had fallen in love with Portia's maid Nerissa. These two also decided to get married. As the two couples were discussing the wedding arrangements, a letter came from Antonio, saying that his ships were all lost at sea and he would have to give Shylock a pound of his flesh. He wished to see Bassanio before he died.

After the couples got married, Portia told Bassanio to go at once to his friend. When Bassanio and Gratiano had gone, Portia thought of a clever plan to save Antonio. She had a good friend who was a doctor of laws. She asked him to lend her some of his lawyer's clothes and notes. She pretended to be a lawyer and Nerissa dressed herself like a lawyer's clerk. They went to Venice. When they arrived, Antonio and Shylock had been brought before the Duke, and the trial had begun.

* * *

Duke: Have mercy on Antonio. Everyone thinks that you will pretend to be cruel until the last minute. Then you will show your mercy.

Shylock: I've promised to take my pound of flesh. If you do not let me have it, that will be bad for Venice. No one will trust your laws any more. The greatness of Venice will soon be lost. Antonio is my enemy, I hate him.

Bassanio: Do all men kill the things they do not love?

Antonio: It is useless trying to talk to Shylock. Don't wait any longer. Pass judgement on me and give Shylock what he wants.

Bassanio: I'll pay you six thousand ducats in return for the three thousand ducats that Antonio borrowed.

Shylock: If you offered me six times the amount that you have just offered, I would still take my pound of flesh. Give me my pound of flesh!

Duke: How can you hope for mercy yourself when you show none?

Shylock: I have done nothing wrong and I fear no judgement. Give me my pound of flesh!

(As the Duke is wondering what to do, Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk, arrives with a letter from the famous lawyer whom Portia has visited.

While the Duke is talking to Nerissa, Shylock begins to get ready to cut his pound of flesh from Antonio.

Then the letter is read out for all the court to hear: “I am very ill. When your letter reached me, I had with me a learned young doctor from Rome. I told him about the quarrel between Shylock and Antonio. We studied many lawbooks and he knows what I would say. I ask you to let him stand in my place and give judgement. He is young, but I never knew so young a body with so wise a head."

After the letter has been read to the court, Portia, in a lawyer's clothes, enters the room. She takes her seat as judge.)

Portia: Are you Antonio?——And is this your agreement with Shylock?

Antonio: It is.

Portia: Then, Shylock must be merciful; he must have mercy on Antonio.

Shylock: Why must I have mercy on him? Tell me that!

Portia: Mercy falls like the gentle rain from the sky upon the earth. It blesses him who gives it, and him who receives it. We should learn to show mercy to others. Do you still ask for this pound of flesh?

Shylock: I ask for what is mine by law!

Bassanio: I offer ten times the amount of money that Antonio has borrowed. Please change the law a little so that we may save Antonio.

Portia: We cannot change a law. If one law is changed, then other men will later want to change other laws.

Shylock: Oh, wise young judge!

Portia: Let me see this agreement, this promise of Antonio to you.

Shylock: Here it is!

Portia: Yes, by law Shylock may have a pound of flesh to be cut off by him nearest to Antonio's heart. Be merciful! Let me destroy this paper.—No? Then, Antonio, be ready; and Shylock, take your knife..

Shylock: Oh, learned judge! Oh, wise young man!

Portia: Have you brought anything to weigh the flesh?

Shylock: Yes. I have everything ready here.

Portia: Have you a doctor, Shylock, to stop Antonio's blood?

Shylock: That is not in the agreement.

Portia: Do you wish to say anything, Antonio?

Antonio: Only a little. Good-bye, Bassanio. Don't be sad for me. Tell your wife about me and how much I loved you. If Shylock cuts deep enough, I'll pay him back with all my heart.

Bassanio: I love you more than my own life, more than my wife, and more than all the world. (He cries.)

Portia: Your wife wouldn't like that offer if she were present to hear you.

Gratiano: I have a wife, whom I love very much. But I wish that she were dead and in heaven, so that she would be able to ask God to help Antonio.

Nerissa: It is good that you make this wish when she is not here. If she were present, there would be trouble in your home.

Shylock: We are wasting time!

Portia: Take your pound of flesh. The court allows it and the law gives it to you.(Shylock begins to move towards Antonio, and is ready to act.)

Portia: Wait! There is something else. Antonio has promised to give you a pound of his flesh. But he has not promised to give you any of his blood. If you let one drop of his blood fall, you will lose all your land and all your money.

Gratiano: Oh, learned judge! Oh, wise young man!

Shylock: Is that the law?

Portia: You shall see the law. You wanted justice; so you shall get justice—more than you wanted.

Shylock: I will take the money. Give me three times more than Antonio borrowed from me.

Bassanio: Here it is.(He cries out, full of joy.)

Portia: Wait! Shylock would not take the money earlier. All he wanted was justice. That is all he can have now. You must cut off just one pound of flesh. No more, no less, just one pound—and not one drop of blood.

(Shylock turns and starts to leave the court.)

Portia: Wait, Shylock. The law of Venice says that if anyone tries to kill any citizen of Venice, everything that he owns shall be taken away from him. One half of his money and his goods shall be given to the city of Venice and the other half shall be given to the person he has tried to kill. His life shall be at the mercy of the Duke. Therefore, go down on your knees and beg the Duke for mercy.

Duke: I shall not kill you. But half of your money is now Antonio's. You must give the other half to the city of Venice.

Shylock: Take my life too! My money and goods are as dear to me as life itself. When you take those away from me, you take also my life.

Antonio: I shall be happy to give up my part of Shylock's money. Shylock must promise to leave the money upon his death to his daughter and her husband.

Shylock: I promise. Let me go home now. I am not well!

THE CURTAIN FALLS

CHARLES DARWIN G308

 CHARLES DARWIN

Two men were deep in argument. They were men of wealth and good education. The discussion was taking place in the library of a large country house which one of them owned. Gradually the argument became more heated. It was about a book which lay on the table in front of them. They disagreed about some of the views in the book. Both of them had read it carefully. Then they had read some of the chapters again and again. One of the men held the view that what the book said was right. The other was sure that it was wrong.

The year was 1859. The book had not long been published and had shocked many learned people in Britain. Its title was the Origin of Species, written by Charles Darwin. He had set out to question views about how life had developed on the Earth. In doing so, he had thrown doubt on some people's religious beliefs. And religion was such an important part of life at that time that some people were quite angry with Darwin. How dare he attack beliefs and ideas which had been held for centuries?

Darwin's views were the result of years of careful observation, th
ought and study. One of his most important ideas was that different types of living creatures on the Earth had not been created suddenly. Instead, they had been developing over thousands of millions of years. In the struggle for life, some species had not been successful. They had died out. Others, however, remained because they were able to fit in with their surroundings. This was what was known as “the survival of the fittest.”

The book was not meant to be an attack on Christian belief. Darwin simply set out the facts that he believed to be true. And he based his ideas on scientific experiment. He did not want to make a statement without trying to prove it. But naturally, the Origin of Species was seen as a book written against religion. Its ideas did not agree with what was written in the Bible. For example, Darwin's points about slow evolution did not agree with the story of how Man was created in the Bible. Therefore the book caused great interest and argument, and its author was soon the centre of attention.

Darwin was born in 1809 at Shrewsbury, where he went to school. Later, he studied medicine at Cambridge. However, he was very interested in plants, animals and geology. Therefore when the opportunity arose to go on a most important and interesting voyage for scientific study, he took it.

The journey lasted for five years, from 1831—36. It took him to many different parts of the world. Wherever he went, Darwin made a most careful study of the animal and plant life found there. He was not prepared to accept the usual teachings about how things developed. In true scientific manner, he liked to put ideas to the test. If possible, he wanted proof before he would believe something.

After Darwin returned to Britain he married and settled down to live in Kent. He lived and worked there for the rest of his life. For much of the time he suffered from bad health. However, his work continued. Over the years he read widely. Gradually he gathered together the proof for his beliefs. One of Darwin's friends, Alfred Wallace, was also a naturalist. Wallace and Darwin agreed on the way in which different forms of life had begun. Some of their work was published in 1858. Immediately, it aroused interest. Darwin's main work, the Origin of Species, was published a year later, in November 1859. The book was received so eagerly that it was sold out on the first day

Then came the arguments. Most scientists of the time were prepared to accept what Darwin said. The man was something of a genius. He had made his points carefully. Proof was given to support his views. But many people simply could not believe that what he had written was true. It was so different from what the Church taught, and Church leaders declared that Darwin's book was an attack on Christian belief. So, many of them wrote and spoke out strongly against it. One of these was the Bishop of Oxford, who took part in a debate against T.H. Huxley, a well-known scientist. The views which they spoke in public showed the great differences between many scientists and many church people. The Bishop said that Darwin's ideas were wrong. Huxley asked him to offer proof, as Darwin had done. The Bishop mainly read statements from the Bible.

The argument went on for many years. The whole question was of interest to a large number of people. Whether or not they agreed with Darwin's views, many of them thought deeply.

Darwin lived on until 1882. Later in his life, he wrote several other books. But none of them caused the kind of interest and argument that had come in 1859. His Origin of Species was one of the most important books published during the nineteenth century.

MY TEACHER G306

 MY TEACHER

Before Anne Sullivan came to our house, one or two people had told my mother that I was an idiot. I can understand why. Here was a seven-year-old girl who at the age of 19 months had become deaf and blind. And because I was deaf, I could not learn to speak. Struggling in a world of silence and darkness, I did seem like an idiot.

But this was before Annie Sullivan came to stay. She was a lively young woman with patience and imagination. A born teacher, she dreamed of turning a deaf-blind creature into a useful human being.

What a challenge I must have been to this young teacher! I remember the many times she tried to spell words into my small hand. But neither words nor letters meant anything to me. I thought her finger movements were some kind of game. But at last, on April 5, 1887,she reached my understanding. About a month after her arrival, she taught me the word "water."

It happened at the well where I was holding a jug while Annie pumped. As the water splashed onto my hand, she kept spelling w-a-t-e-r into my other hand with her fingers. Suddenly I understood! 

It was the first joy I had known for years. I reached out to Annie's hand. She understood I was begging for new words, for the names of the things I touched. The words— so full of meaning— flew from her hand to mine. Those first words were to change my world.

One of the first things Annie did was to teach me how to play. I had not laughed since I became deaf. One day she came into my room laughing merrily. Putting my hand on her face, she spelled *l-a-u-g-h*. Then she tickled me into a burst of laughter. Next Annie took me by the hand and taught me how to hop and skip. She then immediately spelled the words *h-o-p* and *s-k-i-p* for me. In a few days I was learning— and enjoying it— like any child.

Annie kept some pigeons in a cage so that when they were let out I might feel the air from their wings. In this way I found out how birds could fly. The pigeons would land on my head and shoulders. I learned to feed them and understand their ways. That is why birds, though I could not see them, have always been as much a part of my world as flowers and stones.

Teacher would not let the world about me be silent. Through my hands and fingers, I "heard" the sounds that one hears on a farm, the noises made by cows, horses, chickens, pigs. She brought me into touch with everything that could be reached or felt— sunlight, the rustling of silk, the noises of insects, the creaking of a door, the voice of a loved one.

Annie treated me exactly as if I were a seeing and hearing child. As soon as I had enough words to know the difference between right and wrong, I was put to bed whenever I did something wrong. How wonderful to be treated like a normal child, even when I was bad!

As I look back upon those years, I am struck by Annie's wisdom. Perhaps she understood me because she herself had always had very weak eyes.

Annie was born in a poor family, on April 4, 1866. Her mother died when she was eight years old. Two years later, her father disappeared, never to be heard from again. Annie and her brother were sent to a house for orphans. There the boy died.

No one outside the orphans' home was interested in Annie, who was almost blind. But finally, after four years, she managed to escape by crying out to a group of visitors, “I want to go to school!”

At an institution for the blind, Annie learned braille. This is a kind of printing for blind people so that they can read by touch. She also learned a kind of alphabet for the blind, in which different finger positions stand for different letters of the alphabet.

Later, an operation helped her to get back part of her sight, but she remained at her institution for six years more. There she studied about teaching deaf-blind children.

One day a letter from my father arrived at the school. It asked for a teacher for me. Annie considered the challenge just the one she wanted. That is how Annie came to be with us.

Annie was among the first to realize that a blind person never knows his hidden strength until he is treated like a normal human being. She never pitied me; she never praised me unless what I did was as good as that of the best of a normal person. And she encouraged me when I made up my mind to go to college.

During my years in school, Annie sat beside me in every class. She spelled out for me the things that the teachers taught. And, because most books were not printed in braille, she herself read them to me by spelling into my hand what was written in the books.

Teacher's eyes were always a problem. “I can't see an inch ahead,” she once told me. A doctor was shocked when he heard that she read to me five or more hours every day. Because of this, I often pretended to remember parts of books that I had forgotten, so that she wouldn't have to reread them to me.

It took great imagination as well as patience for Annie to teach me to speak. Putting both my hands on her face when she spoke, she let me feel all the movements of her lips and throat. Together we repeated and repeated words and sentences. My speech was clumsy and not pleasant to hear. But I was delighted to be able to say words that my family and a few friends could understand. To Annie I owe thanks for this priceless gift of speech. It has helped me to serve others.

Teacher's inspiration lived on after her death. She had believed in me. I must always keep on trying to do my best.

“No matter what happens,” she often said, “keep on beginning. Each time you fail, start all over again. You will grow stronger each time, until you can do and finish what you started out to do.” Who could count the times ' Annie tried, failed, and then conquered?

What a great teacher! What a great person!