ACME
14-02-2010, 02:45 PM
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هذه القصه تدرس لطلاب المرحله الثانويه فى المناهج المصريه
واحنا ندرسهم - احمد العلى - آآآآآآآآآآآآآآآآآه بس:smile (24):
ما علينا - القصه عليها اسئله للفهم والاستيعاب
انصح الجميع بقرأتها
قراءه ممتعه اتمناها لكم
************************************************** *
A SAD STORY
GEORGE SHEFFIELD
“You are the doctor, I suppose.” Said Augustus Pokewhistle,
smiling from his bed at the immense man who had arrived secretly
while he slept. “it is kind of you to come, but I fear you cannot help
me. However, as you are here, I will tell you, very shortly, what is
wrong with me. I am an artist. I paint pictures and draw drawings ...”
“But ...”
“You are going to tell me that you are not interested in the
story of my life,” Augustus laughed bitterly. “You are one of the
soulless 1 public, and it is of no importance to you if a clever young
man should take to his bed 2 in the height of his youth, never to rise
again. But I suppose you have been sent here by some interfering socalled
friend of mine to save me from the Silent Grave, and I must
therefore explain my illness. And you cannot understand my illness
unless I tell you the story of my life ...”
“But ...”
“I was delicately brought up, and it soon became clear that I
was not an ordinary boy. At the age of seven I won a prize for a
drawing of an animal. We will forget the fact that I had intended my
drawing to represent Sunset over London. After that my proud
parents provided me with plenty of pencils and paper and gave me
the opportunity of studying under Great Painters. At the age of
twenty-one3 I started business as a painter of people, and painted
eleven pictures of my own face. Nobody seemed to want them, and if
you will go into my sitting-room, you will see them hanging sadly on
the wall, looking down at the Empty Chair which I will never sit in
again. For I am certain that I shall never rise from this bed ...”
“But ...”
“Nobody came to have their pictures painted, and I had no
heart to paint 4 any more of myself. Although it may seem
impossible I could no longer get any real pleasure out of it after I had
finished the eleventh, and this proves that one can get tired of even
the most heavenly beauty ...”
“But ...”
“May I mention that there is a certain sameness in your
remarks? Let me finish, and then you can say “but” as often as you
like. I turned from painting people to painting the country6. Nine
times I painted the view from the back window, and seven times I
painted the view from the front window. But could I sell the seven
pictures of the view from the front window, or the nine of the view
from the back window? I could not. I had little money left, and I
decided, after a severe struggle with myself, to forget my soul and
paint for money. I determined to draw funny pictures for the
newspapers. Remember that I was without hope and almost hungry,
and do not think of me too severely...”
“But...”
“I know what you are going to say - if I had had the soul of a
true artist, I would have died rather than do such a thing. But
remember that my wife and children were crying for bread – or
would have been crying for bread if I had had a wife and children.
And was it my fault that I hadn’t a wife and little children? So I
made thirty or forty funny drawings every day and sent them to the
papers. I soon found that selling one’s soul for money is not so easy
as it sounds. Believe it or not, I got no money. I just got my drawings
back...’’
“But... ”
“You may well ask why they were sent back. I cannot tell you.
I tested them on the cat. I had often heard the expression ‘funny
enough to make a cat laugh1’ and so I placed them in a line and
carried the cat along in front of them. He laughed until he was sick...
in any case he was sick.
“Then I sank lower and lower. I tried drawing for
advertisements. Clothes, pianos, bottles. Immensely tall ladies with
foolish smiles. I sent them off by the hundred, and all I received was
a sample bottle or two, and a sample card of wool. I rather expected
to get a sample tall lady with a foolish smile, but probably she got
lost in the post...”
“But...”
“So I gave up the struggle. My heart was broken, and I
determined to take to my bed, never to rise again. You cannot help
me, doctor. No skill of yours can help me. I feel it in my bones11 that
I shall never rise from this bed...”
“And I feel it in my bones that you will,” said the stranger,
carefully placing Augustus Pokewhistle on the carpet, “because I’ve
come to take it away. I’m from the furniture shop, and the bed isn’t
paid for.”
NOTES
1. soulless: without a soul. The adjective-forming suffix -less
means “without”, “not having”, as in hopeless, useless, etc.
2. take to one’s bed: to stay in bed (because of illness, etc.)
3. the age of twenty-one. In English law it is the age at which a
person comes to enjoy full legal rights.
4. have no heart to do smth. (not have the heart to do smth.): not
to have the courage, be too soft- hearted to do smth.
5. sameness: similarity. The suffix -ness is commonly used to form
abstract nouns expressing a condition or quality, as in bitterness,
coldness, carelessness.
6. country (sing. only): scenery, landscape
7. expression: the suffix -ion (-tion, -ation) forms nouns denoting
state, condition or action, as in imagination, discussion, objection,
attention, etc.
8. funny enough to make a cat laugh: very funny indeed.
Compare with the Armenian: Ï•
9. sick (predic.): throwing up, or ready to throw up, food from the
stomach. e.g. The smell made her sick. In colloquial English it stands
for “disgusted,” “annoyed”. e.g. It makes me sick just to think of
going back there.
10. a sample bottle, etc.: specimens of the quality, style, etc. of
goods offered for sale by trade firms
11. feel in one’s bones (colloq.): to feel quite sure
EXERCISES
Answer the following questions
Whom did Augustus find at his bedside on waking up
What did he take the unexpected visitor for?
Why did Augustus start telling the stranger the story of his life
How did it happen that Augustus became a painter
What were the stages in his artistic career
How did Augustus explain his failure
How did the stranger keep interrupting him
What was the purpose of the stranger's visit
What was actually wrong with Augustus
.
.
Sirhasan
هذه القصه تدرس لطلاب المرحله الثانويه فى المناهج المصريه
واحنا ندرسهم - احمد العلى - آآآآآآآآآآآآآآآآآه بس:smile (24):
ما علينا - القصه عليها اسئله للفهم والاستيعاب
انصح الجميع بقرأتها
قراءه ممتعه اتمناها لكم
************************************************** *
A SAD STORY
GEORGE SHEFFIELD
“You are the doctor, I suppose.” Said Augustus Pokewhistle,
smiling from his bed at the immense man who had arrived secretly
while he slept. “it is kind of you to come, but I fear you cannot help
me. However, as you are here, I will tell you, very shortly, what is
wrong with me. I am an artist. I paint pictures and draw drawings ...”
“But ...”
“You are going to tell me that you are not interested in the
story of my life,” Augustus laughed bitterly. “You are one of the
soulless 1 public, and it is of no importance to you if a clever young
man should take to his bed 2 in the height of his youth, never to rise
again. But I suppose you have been sent here by some interfering socalled
friend of mine to save me from the Silent Grave, and I must
therefore explain my illness. And you cannot understand my illness
unless I tell you the story of my life ...”
“But ...”
“I was delicately brought up, and it soon became clear that I
was not an ordinary boy. At the age of seven I won a prize for a
drawing of an animal. We will forget the fact that I had intended my
drawing to represent Sunset over London. After that my proud
parents provided me with plenty of pencils and paper and gave me
the opportunity of studying under Great Painters. At the age of
twenty-one3 I started business as a painter of people, and painted
eleven pictures of my own face. Nobody seemed to want them, and if
you will go into my sitting-room, you will see them hanging sadly on
the wall, looking down at the Empty Chair which I will never sit in
again. For I am certain that I shall never rise from this bed ...”
“But ...”
“Nobody came to have their pictures painted, and I had no
heart to paint 4 any more of myself. Although it may seem
impossible I could no longer get any real pleasure out of it after I had
finished the eleventh, and this proves that one can get tired of even
the most heavenly beauty ...”
“But ...”
“May I mention that there is a certain sameness in your
remarks? Let me finish, and then you can say “but” as often as you
like. I turned from painting people to painting the country6. Nine
times I painted the view from the back window, and seven times I
painted the view from the front window. But could I sell the seven
pictures of the view from the front window, or the nine of the view
from the back window? I could not. I had little money left, and I
decided, after a severe struggle with myself, to forget my soul and
paint for money. I determined to draw funny pictures for the
newspapers. Remember that I was without hope and almost hungry,
and do not think of me too severely...”
“But...”
“I know what you are going to say - if I had had the soul of a
true artist, I would have died rather than do such a thing. But
remember that my wife and children were crying for bread – or
would have been crying for bread if I had had a wife and children.
And was it my fault that I hadn’t a wife and little children? So I
made thirty or forty funny drawings every day and sent them to the
papers. I soon found that selling one’s soul for money is not so easy
as it sounds. Believe it or not, I got no money. I just got my drawings
back...’’
“But... ”
“You may well ask why they were sent back. I cannot tell you.
I tested them on the cat. I had often heard the expression ‘funny
enough to make a cat laugh1’ and so I placed them in a line and
carried the cat along in front of them. He laughed until he was sick...
in any case he was sick.
“Then I sank lower and lower. I tried drawing for
advertisements. Clothes, pianos, bottles. Immensely tall ladies with
foolish smiles. I sent them off by the hundred, and all I received was
a sample bottle or two, and a sample card of wool. I rather expected
to get a sample tall lady with a foolish smile, but probably she got
lost in the post...”
“But...”
“So I gave up the struggle. My heart was broken, and I
determined to take to my bed, never to rise again. You cannot help
me, doctor. No skill of yours can help me. I feel it in my bones11 that
I shall never rise from this bed...”
“And I feel it in my bones that you will,” said the stranger,
carefully placing Augustus Pokewhistle on the carpet, “because I’ve
come to take it away. I’m from the furniture shop, and the bed isn’t
paid for.”
NOTES
1. soulless: without a soul. The adjective-forming suffix -less
means “without”, “not having”, as in hopeless, useless, etc.
2. take to one’s bed: to stay in bed (because of illness, etc.)
3. the age of twenty-one. In English law it is the age at which a
person comes to enjoy full legal rights.
4. have no heart to do smth. (not have the heart to do smth.): not
to have the courage, be too soft- hearted to do smth.
5. sameness: similarity. The suffix -ness is commonly used to form
abstract nouns expressing a condition or quality, as in bitterness,
coldness, carelessness.
6. country (sing. only): scenery, landscape
7. expression: the suffix -ion (-tion, -ation) forms nouns denoting
state, condition or action, as in imagination, discussion, objection,
attention, etc.
8. funny enough to make a cat laugh: very funny indeed.
Compare with the Armenian: Ï•
9. sick (predic.): throwing up, or ready to throw up, food from the
stomach. e.g. The smell made her sick. In colloquial English it stands
for “disgusted,” “annoyed”. e.g. It makes me sick just to think of
going back there.
10. a sample bottle, etc.: specimens of the quality, style, etc. of
goods offered for sale by trade firms
11. feel in one’s bones (colloq.): to feel quite sure
EXERCISES
Answer the following questions
Whom did Augustus find at his bedside on waking up
What did he take the unexpected visitor for?
Why did Augustus start telling the stranger the story of his life
How did it happen that Augustus became a painter
What were the stages in his artistic career
How did Augustus explain his failure
How did the stranger keep interrupting him
What was the purpose of the stranger's visit
What was actually wrong with Augustus
.
.
Sirhasan