Selections For Reading

1


The white seagull, the wild seagull

A joyful bird is he

As he lies like a cradled thing at rest

In the arms of a sunny sea

The little waves rock to and fro

And the white gull lies asleep

As the fisher's bark, with breeze and tide

Goes merrily over the deep

The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by

And her people stand to note

How the seagull sits on the rocking waves

As if in an anchored boat

The sea is fresh, the sea is fair

And the sky calm overhead

And the seagull lies on the deep, deep sea

Like a king in his royal bed

Abou Ben Adhem

...........................
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace
And saw, within the moonlight in his room
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold
And to the presence in the room he said
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light
And showed the names whom love of God had blest
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

The prisoner awaited his chance. For three solid years he had schemed for this opportunity. Now that escape seemed to near at hand, those three years lost some of their monotony. But he would never forget the lashes, the close confinement, low diet, and worse still the mental strain of those black days. Suddenly the warden did what he had hoped. He stopped to unlock the lower padlock. With a dull thud he slumped forward with keys in his hands. Swiftly the prisoner seized his keys, unlocked the cell and ran into the courtyard. It took him four seconds to reach the rope-ladder secretly placed there by his accomplices, five more to clamber over the wall, and three more to jump into the waiting car to be whisked away to freedom. Even though he was guilty, the prisoner felt he had paid for his crime, for the man he had robbed three years ago was still a millionaire

اقتباس:

---

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة ACME

1


The white seagull, the wild seagull

A joyful bird is he

As he lies like a cradled thing at rest

In the arms of a sunny sea

The little waves rock to and fro

And the white gull lies asleep

As the fisher's bark, with breeze and tide

Goes merrily over the deep

The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by

And her people stand to note

How the seagull sits on the rocking waves

As if in an anchored boat

The sea is fresh, the sea is fair

And the sky calm overhead

And the seagull lies on the deep, deep sea

Like a king in his royal bed

---

So beautiful

images, full of life
wonderful selection. keep going

اقتباس:

---

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة ● Ṡeяεиiτч . . ☆

So beautiful

images, full of life
wonderful selection. keep going

---

Thank you very much
for your nice comment
I truly appreciate that

.

a ghost of a smile
.........................

Old Mr. Soames always feared that his son would be a bad man. As a child Hendrick had been very mean
and in his youth he had never mixed with other people. The path of his future life was already established. His father was a kind and popular man, who was very respected by the workers at his factory. Finally, though, ten years after the death of his wife, he handed the business over to his son. The two men continued to live together in the big house outside the town, but, as time passed, Mr. Soames came down to the factory less and less until finally he was not seen from one Christmas to the next. He knew very well what was happening in the town because the postman kept him in touch, but the terrible stories he had heard about his son’s behavior made him so angry that he stopped going out and never smiled again. Meanwhile, Hendrick was known as the meanest and cruelest factory owner in the country. One Christmas Eve, five years to the day after he had retired, Mr. Soames died in his sleep. All the workers went to the funeral but Hendrick refused to invite them back to the house. He was too mean to provide tea and sandwiches. A year later he cut his workers’ wages. They needed money to buy presents for their children but he would not listen to their complaints. He spent Christmas Eve alone, counting his money. Suddenly the door opened. He could just make out a shadowy figure in the dark. “Who are you? What do you want?” The door closed and the visitor spoke. “It’s me, Hendrick. Your father.” As he stepped into the light, Hendrick saw that it was. “You have disgraced me. You count your money while your workers go without food. If you do not take 50 pounds to each of them this evening, I will haunt you forever.” Hendrick stared in terror. Slowly he crossed the room and counted out the money. “Now be good to your workers.” With this, old Mr. Soames disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but a ghost of a smile

.

.
Summary

Utterson and Enfield are out for a walk when they pass a strange-looking door (the entrance to Dr Jekyll's laboratory). Enfield recalls a story involving the door. In the early hours of one winter morning, he says, he saw a man trampling on a young girl. He pursued the man and brought him back to the scene of the crime. (The reader later learns that the man is Mr Hyde.)
A crowd gathered and, to avoid a scene, the man offered to pay the girl compensation. This was accepted, and he opened the door with a key and re-emerged with some money and a large cheque.

........................................

Story of the Door

“Well, it was this way,” returned Mr. Enfield: “I was coming home from some place at the end of the world, about three o’ clock of a black winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town where there was literally nothing to be seen but lamps. Street after street, and all the folks asleep — street after street, all lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a church — till at last I got into that state of mind when a man listens and listens and begins to long for the sight of a policeman. All at once, I saw two figures: one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street. Well, sir, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the man trampled calmly over the child’s body and left her screaming on the ground. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. It wasn’t like a man; it was like some damned Juggernaut. I gave a view-halloa, took to my heels, collared my gentleman, and brought him back to where there was already quite a group about the screaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance, but gave me one look, so ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running. The people who had turned out were the girl’s own family; and pretty soon, the doctor, for whom she had been sent, put in his appearance. Well, the child was not much the worse, more frightened, according to the Sawbones; and there you might have supposed would be an end to it. But there was one curious circumstance. I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child’s family, which was only natural. But the doctor’s case was what struck me. He was the usual cut-and-dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with the desire to kill him. I knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what was in mine; and killing being out of the question, we did the next best. We told the man we could and would make such a scandal out of this, as should make his name stink from one end of London to the other. If he had any friends or any credit, we undertook that he should lose them. And all the time, as we were pitching it in red hot, we were keeping the women off him as best we could, for they were as wild as harpies. I never saw a circle of such hateful faces; and there was the man in the middle, with a kind of black, sneering coolness — frightened too, I could see that — but carrying it off, sir, really like Satan. ‘If you choose to make capital out of this accident,’ said he, ‘I am naturally helpless. No gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene,’ says he. ‘Name your figure.’ Well, we screwed him up to a hundred pounds for the child’s family; he would have clearly liked to stick out; but there was something about the lot of us that meant mischief, and at last he struck. The next thing was to get the money; and where do you think he carried us but to that place with the door? — whipped out a key, went in, and presently came back with the matter of ten pounds in gold and a cheque for the balance on Coutts’s, drawn payable to bearer and signed with a name that I can’t mention, though it’s one of the points of my story, but it was a name at least very well known and often printed

With joyful anticipation of rescue we hastened to the highest point of rock and awaited the arrival of the vessel , for we now perceived that she was making straight for the island.
in less than an hour she was close to the reef, where she stopped to survey the coast. Seeing this, and fearing that they might not see us, we waved pieces of cloth in the air , and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to land. Suddenly a flag was run up at the peak , a little cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner's side , and before we could guess their intentions a cannon-shot came crashing through the bushes , carried away several coconut trees in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards below the spot on which we stood .
With feelings of terror we observed that the flag at the schooner's peak was black , with a death's–head and cross-bones on it. As we gazed at each other in blank astonishment the word "pirate" escaped our lips simultaneously

.

The Seven Ages of Man
................................

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

.
William Shakespeare


the seven stages are the helpless infant, the whining schoolboy, the emotional lover, the devoted soldier, the wise judge, the old man still in control of his faculties, and the extremely aged, returned to a second state of helplessness.

.

Rubashov heard the sound of several people marching down the corridor in step. His first thought was: now the beating-up will start. He stopped in the middle of the cell, listening, his chin pushed forward. The marching steps came to a halt before one of the neighbouring cells, a low command was heard, the keys jangled. Then there was silence.
Rubashov stood stiffly between the bed and the bucket, held his breath, and waited for the first scream. He remembered that the first scream, in which terror still predominated over physical pain, was usually the worst; what followe
d was already more bearable, one got used to it and after a time one could even draw conclusions on the method of torture from the tone and rhythm of the screams. Towards the end, most people behaved in the same way, however different they were in temperament and voice: the screams became weaker, changed over into whining and choking. Usually the door would slam soon after. The keys would jangle again; and the first scream of the next victim often came even before they had touched him, at the mere sight of the men in the doorway.
Rubashov stood in the middle of his cell and waited for the first scream. He rubbed his glasses on his sleeve and said to himself that he would not scream this time either, whatever happened to him. He repeated this sentence as if praying with a rosary. He stood and waited; the scream still did not come. Then he heard a faint clanging, a voice murmured something, the cell-door slammed. The footsteps moved to the next cell.

.

wow
what a great collection we have here
I am sure readers will enjoy reading
them
.
Thank you

اقتباس:

---

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة ● Ṡeяεиiτч . . ☆

wow
what a great collection we have here
I am sure readers will enjoy reading
them
.
Thank you

---

I hope so
that is really a
wonderful thing to see
you are most welcome
&
thank you sooo much
.

Today the game reserves of East Africa are facing a number of threats. Although they earn considerable revenue by attracting tourists, they take up land which is increasingly sought by the local people. While these reserves feed and protect animals, they are in danger of turning into barren areas or deserts. Trees, shrubs and grass are gradually being eaten by grazing herds.

Another problem is to be found in the changing attitudes of the animals themselves. Many of them are losing their hereditary fear of man. In this way they may become a danger to visitors and thus to themselves. Attacks on vehicles are beginning to increase, and it is possible that the problem will become serious in a few years time.

The problem of shortage of land is not a simple one. As the population increases, more and more people look hungrily at the land set aside for game reserves. They claim that a Government’s first duty is to its inhabitants and not to tourists or to wild animals. Despite the income obtained from tourism, this is an argument which it is difficult to answer satisfactorily

.

Many of the world’s people are concerned about the dwindling number of whales in the oceans and seas. They are worried because the number of whales is getting so small . Whales are very large, aquatic animals. People have hunted whales since about the eleventh century. Certain types of whales have been hunted too much. Recently, their numbers have decreased so much that they are in danger of becoming extinct. These concerned people are working to save the whales.
Why do people want to save the whales? There are two important reasons. One reason isthat whales help to keep a balance between plants and animals. People have disturbed this balance. People get rid of their wastes by throwing them into the oceans and seas. People’s sewage and garbage increase the amount of salt in ocean and sea water. The increased salt helps some plants and some very small animals to grow . These plants and animals can be harmful to fish. Whales eat enormous amounts of plankton, the plants and animals that thrive in very salty water. Therefore, whales are very important because they keep the ocean environment clean enough for fish. In addition, because fish provide necessary food for many people, people need whales, and many people want to save them .

Just two months after the flight of Apollo 10, the Apollo 11 astronauts made their historic landing on the surface of the Moon. This momentous trip for humanity also provided scientists with an abundance of material for study; from rock and soil samples brought back from the Moon, scientists have been able to determine much about the composition of the Moon as well as to draw interferences about the development of the Moon from its composition.The Moon soil that came back on Apollo 11 contains small bits of rock and glass which were probably ground from the large rocks when meteors impacted with the surface of the Moon. The bits of glass are spherical in shape and constitute approximately half of the Moon soil. Scientists found no trace of animal or plant life in this soil.In addition to the Moon soil, astronauts gathered two basic types of rocks from the surface of the Moon: basalt and breccia. Basalt is cooled and hardened volcanic lava common to the Earth. Since basalt is formed under extremely high temperatures, the presence of this type of rock is an indication that the temperature of the Moon was once extremely hot. Breccia, the other kind of rock brought back by the astronauts,was formed during the impact of falling objects on the surface of the Moon. This second type of rock consists of small pieces of rock compressed together by the force of impact. Gases such as hydrogen and helium were found in some of the rocks, and scientists believe that these gases were carried to the Moon by solar wind, the streams of gases that are constantly emitted by the Sun

THE QUARRELLING COUPLE
Mr. and Mrs. Barber had been having one of their quarrels, or at least, Mr. Barber had been quarrelling with his wife.
This happened regularly once a month and the argument usually ended with Mrs. Barber’s apologizing and promising to
be more careful and with Mr. Barber’s sighing impatiently, picking up his walking –stick and going out to his club. This
time however, Mrs. Barber had not apologized but had seized umbrella- it was the wettest night for the two years – and
disappeared, saying that she might not come back; she was going to her club, a statement that surprised her husband as
he had never known she had one.
The trouble had started as usual over money, or rather, the recording of money in the immense black-account book in
which Mr. Barber insisted that every cash payment, for food, clothes, the window-cleaner, the milk-man, stamps, bus
fares and the church collection, all must be written down, dated and added up every two days, the total to be compared
with the remaining money in Mrs. Barber’s handbag. As a clerk in a supermarket company, Mr. Barber earned his living
recording money spent and profits gained in even more immense account-books and absolutely delighted in doing it.
Mrs. Barber found it nuisance. She could almost smell where the best bargains were and she managed to run her home
extremely efficiently on her husband’s rather than miserable salary. But when she returned from shopping, she had to
prepare dinner and wash up, and by then she had forgotten exactly how she had spent every penny and hated cheating.
Once a month her husband examined the account-book and bitter accusations followed. Mrs. Barber, who was a gentle,
sweet person, would admit her guilt during the next four weeks, would try to remember to write down everything, even
the right date. But a week later she was already puzzling over how exactly she had spent that five-pound note and at the
end of two weeks, the gaps in her record were only too clear.
On this occasion, however, Mrs. Barber refused to accept her husband’s criticism. For only the day before a friend had
called with a briefcase containing twenty five-pound notes and Mrs. Barber’s passport and driving license. ‘I found this
in a telephone-box,’ he said. ‘It must be your husband‘s. Mrs. Barber put it away carefully. That evening her husband
came home late when his wife was already asleep and he left in a hurry the next morning, saying nothing about his loss.
But on his return at six in the evening, he immediately called for the account-book and as usual started to complain and
scold. ‘As you are careless, he said, ‘you must learn your lesson. I see from here you have spent less than half the
money I gave you. The other half can last you for this month. You don’t need any more now.’ It was at this point that
Mrs. Barber seized her umbrella and walked out.

.

East Somalia’s prolonged shortage of rain, which has already caused food supplies to fail and brought unemployment in farming areas, could also affect the production of electricity, and thus reduce the output from the nation’s mines. The mining industry, and especially copper mining, uses a huge amount of electricity and is almost completely dependent on the government Electricity Supply Commission. But the Commission has recently asked the mines what would happen if electricity supplies were reduced by ten, twenty or thirty percent.

The Commission’s power stations, which produce the electricity using coal as fuel, are mostly situated near the large coalfields of Eastern Province. But this area has little water so the cooling towers at the power stations have to be supplied with water from elsewhere. The problem now is that water levels in all rivers and lakes have fallen dangerously low and, in some cases, are well below the intake pipes which feed into the pipelines which supply the cooling towers.

In a desperate attempt to solve the problem, engineers are spending some forty million dollars on building a series of small dams across the Haro River. It is hoped that these dams will make the water level at the Malawa Dam rise so that water can then be pumped through a new pipeline to the power stations.

This will take time and It is now the dry season. Very little rain falls before October or November, and, after a shortage which has lasted for four years and is believed to be the worst in two centuries, nobody can say whether the rains will be sufficient.

The amount of electricity and water used by the mines has tended to increase in recent years. The mines, which produce about half the country’s export earnings, need electricity in order to pump fresh air through their workings and to drive machines which crush vast quantities of rock. Each mine also has to provide accommodation for as many as three thousand workers.

.

Enjoy Reading
&
I Wish You All The Best
.