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What were the primary objectives of the NASA Viking Mission to Mars? - English

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Question

What were the primary objectives of the NASA Viking Mission to Mars?

Short Note

Solution

The primary objectives of the NASA Viking Mission to Mars were-
(i) To obtain images and samples of the Martian surface and soil,
(ii) To search for any possible signs of life there,
(iii) To search the presence of living microorganisms in the soil near the landing sites.

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Q 2
Chapter 10: An Alien Hand - Extra Questions

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NCERT English - An Alien Hand Class 7
Chapter 10 An Alien Hand
Extra Questions | Q 2

RELATED QUESTIONS

Study the words in italics in the sentences below. They are formed by prefixing un – or in – to their antonyms (words opposite in meaning).

• I was a short boy with rather undistinguished looks. (un + distinguished)

• My austere father used to avoid all inessential comforts.(in + essential)

• The area was completely unaffected by the war.(un + affected)

• He should not spread the poison of social inequality and communal intolerance. (in + equality, in+ tolerance)

Now form the opposites of the words below by prefixing un- or in-. The prefix in- can also have the forms il-, ir-, or im- (for example: illiterate –il + literate, impractical –im + practical, irrational – ir+ rational). You may consult a dictionary if you wish.

_____adequate _____acceptable _____regular _____tolerant
____demanding ____active _____true _____permanent
____patriotic ____disputed ____accessible _____coherent
_____logical _____legal _____responsible _____possible

Now read the story

  1. "Ma!" Mrs. Bramble looked up, beaming with a kind of amiable fat-headedness. A domestic creature, wrapped up in Bill, her husband, and Harold, her son. At the present moment only the latter was with her. He sat on the other side of the table, his lips gravely pursed and his eyes a trifle cloudy behind their spectacles. Before him on the red tablecloth lay an open book. His powerful brain was plainly busy.
  2. "Yes, dearie?"
  3.  "Will you hear me?"
  4. Mrs. Bramble took the book.
  5. "Yes, mother will hear you, precious."
  6. A slight frown, marred the smoothness of Harold Bramble's brow. It jarred upon him, this habit of his mother's, of referring to herself in the third person, as if she were addressing a baby, instead of a young man of ten who had taken the spelling and dictation prize last term on his head. 
  7. He cleared his throat and fixed his eyes upon the cut-glass hangings of the chandelier.
  8. "Be good, sweet maid," he began, with the toneless rapidity affected by youths of his age when reciting poetry…..
  9. "You do study so hard, dearie, you'll give yourself a headache. Why don't you take a nice walk by the river for half an hour, and come back nice and fresh?"
  10. The spectacled child considered the point for a moment gravely. Then nodding, he arranged his books in readiness for his return and went out. The front door closed with a decorous softness.
  11. It was a constant source of amazement to Mrs. Bramble that she should have brought such a prodigy as Harold into the world. Harold was so different from ordinary children, so devoted to his books, such a model of behaviour, so altogether admirable. The only drawback was, that his very 'perfection' had made necessary a series of evasions and even deliberate falsehoods, on the part of herself and her husband, highly distasteful to both. They were lovers of truth, but they had realized that there are times when truth must be sacrificed. At any cost, the facts concerning Mr. Bramble's profession must be kept from Harold.
  12. While he was a baby it had not mattered so much. But when he began to move about and take notice, Mrs. Bramble said to Mr. Bramble, "Bill, we must keep it from Harold." A little later, when the child had begun to show signs of being about to become a model of goodness and intelligence, and had already taken two prizes at the Sunday-school, the senior curate of the parish, meeting Mr. Bramble one morning, said nervously-for after all, it was a delicate subject to broach, "Er-Bramble, I think, on the whole, it would be as well to-er-keep it from Harold."
  13. And only the other day, Mrs. Bramble's brother, Major Percy Stokes, dropping in for a cup of tea, had said, "I hope you are keeping it from Harold. It is the least you can do", and had gone on to make one or two remarks about men of wrath which, considering that his cheek-bones were glistening with Mr. Bramble's buttered toast, were in poor taste. But Percy was like that. Enemies said that he liked the sound of his own voice.
  14. Certainly he was very persuasive. Mr. Bramble had fallen in with the suggestion without demur. In private life he was the mildest and most obliging of men, and always yielded to everybody. The very naming of Harold had caused a sacrifice on his part.
  15. When it was certain that he was about to become a father, he had expressed a desire that the child should be named John, if a boy, after Mr John L. Sullivan, or, if a girl, Marie, after Miss Marie Lloyd. But Mrs Bramble saying that Harold was such a sweet name, he had withdrawn his suggestions with the utmost goodhumour.
  16. Nobody could help liking this excellent man which made it all the greater pity that his walk in life was of such a nature that it simply had to be kept from Harold.
  17. He was a professional boxer. That was the trouble.
  18. Before the coming of Harold, he had been proud of being a professional boxer. His ability to paste his fellow-man in the eye while apparently meditating an attack on his stomach, and vice versa, had filled him with that genial glow of self-satisfaction which comes to philanthropists and other benefactors of the species. It had seemed to him a thing on which to congratulate himself that of all London's teeming millions there was not a man, weighing eight stone four, whom he could not overcome in a twenty-round contest. He was delighted to be the possessor of a left hook which had won the approval of the newspapers.
  19. And then Harold had come into his life, and changed him into a furtive practitioner of shady deeds. Before, he had gone about the world with a match-box full of press-notices, which he would extract with a pin and read to casual acquaintances. Now, he quailed at the sight of his name in print, so thoroughly had he become imbued with the necessity of keeping it from Harold.
  20. With an ordinary boy it would not have mattered. However, Harold was different. Secretly proud of him as they were, both Bill and his wife were a little afraid of their wonderful child. The fact was, as Bill himself put it, Harold was showing a bit too much class for them. He had formed a corner in brains, as far as the Bramble family was concerned. They had come to regard him as being of a superior order.
  21. Yet Harold, defying the laws of heredity, had run to intellect as his father had run to  muscle. He had learned to read and write with amazing quickness. He sang in the choir.
  22. And now, at the age of ten, a pupil at a local private school where they wore mortar  boards and generally comported themselves like young dons, he had already won a prize for spelling and dictation. You simply couldn't take a boy like that aside and tell him that the father whom he believed to be a commercial traveller was affectionately known to a large section of the inhabitants of London, as "Young Porky." There were no two ways about it. You had to keep it from him.
  23. So, Harold grew in stature and intelligence, without a suspicion of the real identity of the square-jawed man with the irregularly-shaped nose who came and went mysteriously in their semi-detached, red-brick home. He was a self-centred child, and, accepting the commercial traveller fiction, dismissed the subject from his mind and busied himself with things of more moment. And time slipped by.
  24. Mrs. Bramble, left alone, resumed work on the sock which she was darning. For the first time since Harold had reached years of intelligence she was easy in her mind about the future. A week from tonight would see the end of all her anxieties. On that day Bill would fight his last fight, the twenty-round contest with that American Murphy at the National Sporting Club for which he was now training at the White Hart down the road. He had promised that it would be the last. He was getting on. He was thirty-one, and he said himself that he would have to be chucking the game before it chucked him. His idea was to retire from active work and try for a job as an instructor at one of these big schools or colleges. He had a splendid record for respectability and sobriety and all the other qualities which headmasters demanded in those who taught their young gentlemen to box and several of his friends who had obtained similar posts described the job in question as extremely soft. So that it seemed to Mrs. Bramble, that all might now be considered well. She smiled happily to herself as she darned her sock.
  25. She was interrupted in her meditations by a knock at the front door. She put down her sock and listened.
  26. Martha, the general, pattered along the passage, and then there came the sound of voices speaking in an undertone. Footsteps made themselves heard in the passage. The door opened. The head and shoulders of Major Percy Stokes insinuated themselves into the room.
  27. The Major cocked a mild blue eye at her.
  28. "Harold anywhere about?"
  29. "He's gone out for a nice walk. Whatever brings you here, Percy, so late? "
  30. Percy made no answer. He withdrew his head.
  31. He then reappeared, this time in his entirety, and remained holding the door open. More footsteps in the passage, and through the doorway in a sideways fashion suggestive of a diffident crab, came a short, sturdy, red-headed man with a broken nose and a propitiatory smile, at the sight of whom Mrs. Bramble, dropping her sock, rose as if propelled by powerful machinery, and exclaimed, "Bill!"
  32. Mr. Bramble - for it was he - scratched his head, grinned feebly, and looked for assistance to the Major.
  33. "The scales have fallen from his eyes."
  34. "What scales?" demanded Mrs. Bramble, a literal-minded woman. "And what are you doing here, Bill, when you ought to be at the White Hart, training?"
  35. "That's just what I'm telling you," said Percy. "I’ve been wrestling with Bill, and I have been vouchsafed the victory."
  36. "You!" said Mrs. Bramble, with uncomplimentary astonishment, letting her gaze wander over her brother's weedy form.
  37. "Jerry Fisher's a hard nut," said Mr. Bramble, apologetically. "He don't like people coming round talking to a man he's training, unless he introduces them or they're newspaper gents."
  38. "After that I kept away. But I wrote the letters and I sent the tracts. Bill, which of the tracts was it that snatched you from the primrose path?"
  39. "It wasn't so much the letters, Perce. It was what you wrote about Harold. You see, Jane---"
  40. "Perhaps you'll kindly allow me to get a word in edgeways, you two," said Mrs.Bramble, her temper for once becoming ruffled. "You can stop talking for half an instant, Percy, if you know how, while Bill tells me what he's doing here when he ought to be at the White Hart with Mr. Fisher, doing his bit of training."
  41. Mr. Bramble met her eye and blinked awkwardly.
  42. " Percy's just been telling you, Jane. He wrote---"
  43. "I haven't made head or tail of a single word that Percy's said, and I don't expect to. All I want is a plain answer to a plain question. What are you doing here, Bill, instead of being at the White Hart? "
  44. "I've come home, Jane."
  45. "Glory!" exclaimed the Major.
  46. "Percy, if you don't keep quiet, I'll forget I'm your sister and let you have one. What
    do you mean, Bill, you've come home? Isn't there going to be the fight next week,
    after all?"
  47. "The fight's over," said the unsuppressed Major, joyfully, "and Bill's won, with me
    seconding him."
  48. "Percy!"
  49. Mr. Bramble pulled himself together with a visible effort.
  50. "I'm not going to fight, Jane," he said, in a small voice.
  51. '' You're not going--!"
  52. "He's seen the error of his ways," cried Percy, the resilient."That's what he's gone
    and done. At the eleventh hour."
  53. "Oh! I have waited for this joyful moment. I have watched for it. I---"
  54. "You're not going to fight!"
  55. Mr. Bramble, avoiding his wife's eye, shook his head.
  56. "And how about the money?"
  57. "What's money? " said the Major, scornfully.
  58. "You ought to know," snapped Mrs. Bramble, turning on him. "You've borrowed
    enough of it from me in your time."
  59. The Major waved a hand in wounded silence. He considered the remark in poor
    taste.
  60. "How about the money?" repeated Mrs. Bramble. "Goodness knows I've never liked your profession, Bill, but there is this to be said for it, that it's earned you good money and made it possible for us to give Harold as good an education as any Duke ever had, I'm sure. And you know, you yourself said that the five hundred pounds you were going to get if you beat this Murphy, and even if you lost it would be a hundred and twenty, was going to be a blessing, because it would let us finish him off proper and give him a better start in life than you or me ever had, and now
    you let this Percy come over you with his foolish talk, and now I don't know what will happen."
  61. There was an uncomfortable silence. Even Percy seemed to be at a loss for words. Mrs. Bramble sat down and began to sob. Mr. Bramble shuffled his feet.
  62. "Talking of Harold," said Mr. Bramble at last, " That's , really what I'm driving at. It was him only whom I was thinking of when I hopped it from the White Hart. It would be written up in all the papers, instead of only in the sporting ones. As likely as not there would be a piece about it in the Mail, with a photograph of me. And you know Harold reads his Mail regularly. And then, don't you see, the fat would be in the fire. "That's what Percy pointed out to me, and I seen what he meant, so I hopped it."
  63. "At the eleventh hour," added the Major, rubbing in the point.
  64. "You see, Jane---" Mr. Bramble was beginning, when there was a knock at the door, and a little, ferret-faced man in a woollen sweater and cycling knickerbockers entered, removing as he did so a somewhat battered bowler hat.
  65. "Beg pardon, Mrs. Bramble," he said, " coming in like this. Found the front door ajar, so came in, to ask if you'd happened to have seen-"
  66. He broke off and stood staring wildly at the little group.
  67. "I thought so!" he said, and shot through the air towards Percy.
  68. "Jerry !" said Bill.
  69. "Mr. Fisher!" said Mrs. Bramble,
  70. "Be reasonable," said the Major, diving underneath the table and coming up the other side like a performing seal.
  71. "Let me get at him," begged the intruder, struggling to free himself from Bill's restraining arms.
  72. Mrs. Bramble rapped on the table.
  73. "Kindly remember there's a lady present, Mr. Fisher."
  74. The little man's face became a battlefield on which rage, misery, and a respect for the decencies of social life struggled for mastery.
  75. "It's hard," he said at length, in a choked voice. "I just wanted to break his neck for him, but I suppose it's not to be. I know it's him that's at the bottom of it. And here I find them together, so I know it's him. Well, if you say so, Mrs. B., I suppose I mustn't put a hand on him. But it's hard. Bill, you come back along with me to the White Hart. I'm surprised at you. Ashamed of you, I am. All the time you and me have known each other, I've never known you do such a thing. You are such a pleasure to train as a rule. It all comes of getting with bad companions."
  76. Mr. Bramble looked at his brother-in-law miserably.
  77. "You tell him," he said.
  78. "You tell him, Jane," said the Major.
  79. "I won't," said Mrs. Bramble.
  80. "Tell him what? " asked the puzzled trainer.
  81. "Well?"
  82. "It's only that I'm not going to fight on Monday."
  83. "What!"
  84. "Bill has seen a sudden bright light," said Percy, edging a few inches to the left, so that the table was exactly between the trainer and himself. "At the eleventh hour, he has turned from his wicked ways. You ought to be singing with joy, Mr. Fisher, if you really loved Bill. This ought to be the happiest evening you've ever known. You ought to be singing like a little child."
  85. A strange, guttural noise escaped the trainer. It may have been a song, but it did not sound like it.
  86. "It's true, Jerry," said Bill, unhappily. "I have been thinking it over, and I'm not going to fight on Monday."
  87. "Glory!" said the Major, tactlessly.
  88. Jerry Fisher's face was a study in violent emotions. His eyes seemed to protrude from their sockets like a snail's. He clutched the tablecloth.
  89. "I'm sorry, Jerry," said Bill. " I know it's hard on you. But I've got to think of Harold. This fight with Jimmy Murphy being what you might call a kind of national affair, in a way of speaking, will be reported in The Mail as like as not, with a photograph of me, and Harold reads The Mail regular. We've been keeping it from him all these years that I'm in the profession, and we can't let him know now. He would die of shame, Jerry."
  90. Tears appeared in Jerry Fisher's eyes.
  91. "Bill," he cried, " you're off your head. Think of the purse!"
  92. "Ah!" said Mrs. Bramble.
  93. "Think of all the swells that'll be coming to see you. Think of what the papers'll say. Think of me."
  94. "I know, Jerry, it's chronic. But Harold---"
  95. "Think of all the trouble you've taken for the last few weeks getting yourself into condition."
  96. "I know. But Har---"
  97. "You can't not fight on Monday."
  98. "But Harold, Jerry. He'd die of the disgrace of it. He ain't like you and me, Jerry. He's a little gentleman. I got to think of Harold"
  99. "What about me, pa?" said a youthful voice at the door; and Bill's honest blood froze at the sound. His jaw fell, and he goggled dumbly.
  100. There, his spectacles gleaming in the gaslight, his cheeks glowing with the exertion of the nice walk, his eyebrows slightly elevated with surprise, stood Harold himself.
  101. "Halloa, pa! Halloa, Uncle Percy! Somebody's left the front door open. What were you saying about thinking about me, pa? Ma, will you hear me, my piece of poetry again? I think I've forgotten it."
  102. The four adults surveyed the innocent child in silence.
  103. On the faces of three of them consternation was written. In the eyes of the fourth, Mr. Fisher, there glittered that nasty, steely expression of the man, who sees his way to getting a bit of his own back, Mr. Fisher's was not an un-mixedly chivalrous nature. He considered that he had been badly treated, and what he wanted most at the moment was revenge. He had been fond and proud of Bill Bramble, but those emotions belonged to the dead past. Just at present, he felt that he disliked Bill rather more than anyone else in the world, with the possible exception of Major Percy Stokes.
  104. "So you're Harold, are you, Tommy? " he said, in a metallic voice." Then just you listen here a minute."
  105. "Jerry," cried Bill, advancing, "you keep your mouth shut, or I'll dot you one."
  106. Mr. Fisher retreated and, grasping a chair, swung it above his head.
  107. "You better! " he said, curtly.
  108. ''Mr. Fisher, do be a gentleman," entreated Mrs. Bramble.
  109. "My dear sir." There was a crooning winningness in Percy's voice. "My dear sir, do nothing hasty. Think before you speak. Don't go and be so silly as to act like a mutton-head. I'd be ashamed to be so spiteful. Respect a father's feelings."
  110. "Tommy," said Mr. Fisher, ignoring them all, "you think your pa's a commercial. He ain't. He's a fighting-man, doing his eight-stone-four ringside, and known to all the heads as ' Young Porky.' "
  111. Bill sank into a chair. He could see Harold's round eyes staring at him.
  112. "I'd never have thought it of you, Jerry," he said, miserably. "If anyone had come to me and told me that you could have acted so raw I'd have dotted him one."
  113. "And if anyone had come to me and told me that I should live to see the day when you broke training a week before a fight at the National, I'd given him one for himself."
  114. "Harold, my lad," said Percy, "you mustn't think none the worse of your pa for having been a man of wrath. He hadn't seen the bright light then. It's all over now. He's given it up for ever, and there's no call for you to feel ashamed."
  115. Bill seized on the point.
  116. "That's right, Harold," he said, reviving, "I've given it up. I was going to fight an American named Murphy at the National next Monday, but I ain't going to now, not if they come to me on their bended knees. Not even if the King of England came to me on his bended knees."
  117. Harold drew a deep breath.
  118. "Oh!" he cried, shrilly. "Oh, aren't you? Then what about my two bob? What about my two bob, I've betted Dicky Saunders that Jimmy Murphy won't last ten rounds?"
  119. He looked round the room wrathfully.
  120. "It's thick," he said in the crisp, gentlemanly, voice of which his parents were so proud. "It's jolly thick. That's what it is. A chap takes the trouble to study form and saves up his pocket-money to have a bet on a good thing, and then he goes and gets let down like this. It may be funny to you, but I call it rotten. And another thing I call rotten is you having kept it from me all this time that you were 'Young Porky,' pa. That's what I call so jolly rotten! There's a fellow at our school who goes about swanking in the most rotten way because he once got Phil Scott's autograph. Fellows look up to him most awfully, and all the time they might have been doing it to me. That's what makes me so jolly sick. How long do you suppose they'd go on calling me, 'Goggles' if they knew that you were my father? They'd chuck it tomorrow, and look up to me like anything, I do call it rotten. And chucking it up like this is the limit. What do you want to do it for? It's the silliest idea, I've ever heard. Why, if you beat Jimmy Murphy they'll have to give you the next chance with Sid
    Sampson for the Lonsdale belt. Jimmy beat Ted Richards, and Ted beat the Ginger Nut, and the Ginger Nut only lost on a foul to Sid Sampson, and you beat Ted Richards, so they couldn't help letting you have the next go at Sid."
  121. Mr. Fisher beamed approval.
  122. "If I've told your pa that once, I've told him twenty times," he said. "You certainly know a thing or two, Tommy."
  123. "Well, I've made a study of it since I was a kid, so I jolly well ought to. All the fellows at our place are frightfully keen on it. One chap's got a snapshot of Jimmy Wilde. At least, he says it's Jimmy Wilde, but I believe it's just some ordinary fellow. Anyhow, it's jolly blurred, so it might be anyone. Pa, can't you give me a picture of yourself boxing? I could swank like anything. And you don't know how sick a chap gets of having chaps call him, 'Goggles.' "
  124. "Bill," said Mr. Fisher, "you and me had better be getting back to the White Hart."
  125. Bill rose and followed him without a word.
  126. Harold broke the silence which followed their departure. The animated expression which had been on his face as he discussed the relative merits of Sid Sampson and the Ginger Nut had given place to the abstracted gravity of the student.
  127. "Ma!"
  128. Mrs. Bramble started convulsively.
  129. "Yes, dearie?"
  130. "Will you hear me? "
  131. Mrs. Bramble took the book.
  132. ''Yes, mother will hear you, precious," she said, mechanically.
  133. Harold fixed his eyes upon the cut-glass hangings of the chandelier.
  134. "Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever-clever. Do noble things.. "

About the Author
Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, KBE (15 October 1881 - 14 February 1975) was a comic writer who enjoyed enormous popular success during his career as an acknowledged master of English prose. Wodehouse has been admired both by his contemporaries such as Hilaire Belloc, Evelyn Waugh and Rudyard Kipling and by modern writers such as Douglas Adams, Salman Rushdie, Zadie Smith and Terry Pratchett.
Best known today for his Jeeves and Blandings Castle novels and short stories, Wodehouse was also a playwright and lyricist who was part author and writer of 15 plays and of 250 lyrics for some 30 musical comedies. He worked with Cole Porter on the musical 'Anything Goes' (1934) and frequently collaborated with Jerome Kern and Guy Bolton. He wrote the lyrics for the hit song "Bill" in Kern's Show Boat (1927), wrote the lyrics for the Gershwin - Romberg’s musical Rosalie (1928) and collaborated with Rudolf Friml on a musical version of The Three Musketeers (1928).


Now read the story.

  1. One day last summer, I went to Pittsburgh-well, I had to go there on business.
  2. My chair-car was profitably well-filled with people of the kind one usually sees on chair-cars. Most of them were ladies in brown-silk dresses cut with square yokes, with lace insertion and dotted veils, who refused to have the windows raised. Then there was the usual number of men who looked as if they might be in almost any business and going almost anywhere. I leaned back idly in chair No. 7, and looked with tepidest curiosity at the small, black, bald-spotted head just visible above the back of No.9.
  3.  Suddenly No.9 hurled a book on the floor between his chair and the window, and, looking, I saw that it was "The Rose Lady and Trevelyan," one of the best-selling novels of the present day. And then, the critic veered his chair toward the window, and I knew him at once for John A. Pescud of Pittsburgh, travelling salesman for a plate-glass company - an old acquaintance whom I had not seen in two years.
  4. In two minutes we were faced, had shaken hands, and had finished with such topics as rain, prosperity, health, residence, and destination. Politics might have followed next; but I was not so ill-fated.
  5.  I wish you might know John A. Pescud. He is of the stuff that heroes are not often lucky enough to be made of. He is a small man with a wide smile, and an eye that seems to be fixed upon that little red spot on the end of your nose.
  6.  He believes that "our" plate-glass is the most important commodity in the world, The Cambria Steel Works, the best company and that when a man is in his home town, he ought to be decent and law-abiding.
  7.  During my acquaintance with him earlier I had never known his views on life, romance, literature and ethics. We had browsed, during our meetings, on local topics and then parted.
  8. Now I was to get more of his ideas. By way of facts, he told me that business had picked up since
    the party conventions and that he was going to get off at Coketown.
  9. "Say," said Pescud, stirring his discarded book with the hand, "did you ever read one of these
    best-sellers? I mean the kind where the hero is an American swell-sometimes even from Chicago - who falls in love with a royal princess from Europe who is travelling under an alias and follows her to her father's kingdom or principality? I guess you have. They're all alike.
  10.  ____"Well, this fellow chases the royal chair-warmer home as I said, and finds out who she is. He meets her in the evening and gives us ten pages of conversation. She reminds him of the difference in their stations and that gives him a chance to ring in three solid pages about America's uncrowned sovereigns.
  11. "Well, you know how it runs on, if you've read any of 'em-he slaps the king's Swiss bodyguards around like every thing whenever they get in his way. He's a great fencer, too.
  12. "Yes," said Pescud, "but these kind of love-stories are rank on-the-level. I know something about literature, even if I am in plate-glass.
  13. "When people in real life marry, they generally hunt up somebody in their own station. A fellow usually picks out a girl who went to the same high-school and belonged to the same singing-society that he did."
  14.  Pescud picked up the best-seller and hunted his page.
  15.  "Listen to this," said he. "Trevelyan is sitting with the Princess Alwyna at the back end of the tulip-garden. This is how it goes:
  16. "Say not so, dearest and sweetest of earth's fairest flowers. Would I aspire? You are a star set high above me in a royal heaven; I am only-myself. Yet I am a man and I have a heart to do and dare. I have no title save that of an uncrowned sovereign; but I have an arm and a sword that yet might free Schutzenfestenstein from the plots of traitors."
  17. "Think of a Chicago man packing a sword, and talking about freeing anything that sounded as much like canned sardines!"
  18. "I think I understand you, John," said I. "You want fiction- writers to be consistent with their scenes and characters. They shouldn't mix Turkish pashas with Vermont farmers, or English Dukes with Long Island clamdiggers or Cincinnati agents with the Rajahs of India." "Or plain business men with aristocracy high above 'em," added Pescud. "It doesn't jibe. I don't see why people go to work and buy hundreds of thousands of books which are best sellers. You don't see or hear of any such capers in real life."
  19. "Well John," said I, "I haven't read a best-seller in a long time. May be I've had notions about them somewhat like yours. But tell me more about yourself. Getting along all right with the company?"
  20. "Bully," said Pescud, brightening at once. "I've had my salary raised twice since I saw you, and I get a commission, too. I've bought a neat slice of real estate. Next year the firm is going to sell me some shares of stock. Oh, l'm in on the line of General Prosperity.
  21.  "Met your affinity yet, John?" I asked.
  22.  "Oh, I didn't tell you about that, did I?" said Pescud with a broader grin.
  23.  "O-ho!" I said. "So you've taken off enough time from your plate-glass to have a romance?"
  24.  "No, no," said John. "No romance-nothing like that! But I'll tell you about it,
  25.  "I was on the south-bound, going to Cincinnati, about eighteen months ago, when I saw, across the aisle, the finest looking girl I'd ever laid eyes on. Nothing spectacular, you know, but just the sort you want for keeps."
  26. She read a book and minded her business, which was, to make the world prettier and better just by residing in it. I kept on looking out of the side-doors of my eyes, and finally the proposition got out of the carriage into a case of cottage with a lawn and vines running over the porch. I never thought of speaking to her, but I let the plate glass business go to smash for a while."
  27. "She changed cars at Cincinnati and took a sleeper to Louisville. There she bought another ticket and went on through Shelbyville, Frankford, and Lexington. Along there, I began to have a hard time keeping up with her. The trains came along when they pleased, and didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular, except to keep on the track and on the right way as much as possible. Then they began to stop at junctions instead of towns, and at last they stopped altogether
  28.  "I contrived to keep out of her sight as much as I could, but I never lost track of her. The last station she got off at was away down in Virginia, about six in the evening. There were about fifty houses.
  29. "The rest was red mud, mules, and speckled hounds.
  30.  "A tall old man, with a smooth face and white hair, looking as proud as Julius Caesar was there to meet her. His clothes were frazzled but I didn't notice that till later. He took her little satchel, and they started over the plank walks and went up a road along the hill. I kept along a pace behind 'em, trying to look like I was hunting a garnet ring in the sand that my sister had lost at a picnic, the previous Saturday.
  31.  "They went in a gate on top of the hill. It nearly took my breath away when I looked up. Up there in the biggest grove, I had ever seen was a huge house with round white pillars, about a thousand feet high, and the yard was so full of rose-bushes and box-bushes and lilacs that you couldn't have seen the house if it hadn't been as big as the Capitol at Washington.
  32.  " 'Here's where I have to trail,' say I to myself. I thought before that she seemed to be in moderate circumstances, at least. This must be the Governor's mansion, or the Agricultural Building of a new World Fair, anyhow. I'd better go back to the village and get posted by the postmaster, for some information.
  33.  "In the village, I found a fine hotel called the Bay View House. The only excuse for the name was a bay horse grazing in the front yard. I set my sample-case down, and tried to be ostensible. I told the landlord, I was taking orders for plate-glass".
  34.  "By-and-by, I got him down to local gossip and answering questions.
  35.  _"'Why?', says he, 'I thought everybody knew who lived in the big white house on the hill. It's Colonel Allyn, the biggest man and finest quality in Virginia, or anywhere else. They're the oldest family in the State. That was his daughter who had got off the train. She's been up to Illinois to see her aunt, who is sick.'
  36. "I registered at the hotel, and on the third day I caught the young lady walking in the front yard, down next to the paling fence. I stopped and raised my hat - there wasn't any other way.
  37. 'Excuse me,' says I, 'can you tell me where Mr. Hinkle lives?'
  38.  "She looks at me as cool as if I was the man come to see about the weeding of the garden, but I thought I saw just a slight twinkle of fun in her eyes.
  39. 'No one of that name lives in Birchton,' says she. 'That is,' she goes on, 'as far as I know'.
  40. "Well, that tickled me. 'No kidding,' says I. 'I'm not looking for smoke, even if I do come from Pittsburgh.'
  41.  'You are quite a distance from home,' says she.
  42.  'I'd have gone a thousand miles farther,' says I.
  43.  'Not if you hadn't woken up when the train started in Shelbyville,' says she; and then she turned almost as red as one of the roses on the bushes in the yard. I remembered I had dropped off to sleep on a bench in the Shelbyville station, waiting to see which train she took, and only just managed to wake up in time.
  44.  "And then I told her why I had come, as respectful and earnest as I could. And I told her everything about myself, and what I was making, and how that all I asked was just to get acquainted with her and try to get her to like me.
  45.  "She smiles a little, and blushes some, but her eyes never get mixed up. They look straight at whom so ever she's talking to.
  46.  'I never had any one talk like this to me before, Mr. Pescud,' says she. 'What did you say your name is-John?'
  47. 'John A.,' says I.
  48.  " 'And you came mighty near missing the train at Powhatan Junction, too,' says she, with a laugh that sounded as good as a mileage-book to me."
  49. " 'How did you know?' I asked.
  50. " 'Men are very clumsy,' said she. 'I know you were on every train. I thought you were going to speak to me, and I'm glad you didn't.
  51.  "Then we had more talk; and at last a kind of proud, serious look came on her face, and she turned and pointed a finger at the big house. 
  52.  'The Allyns,' says she, 'have lived in Elmcroft for a hundred years. We are a proud family. Look at that mansion. It has fifty rooms. See the pillars and porches and balconies. The ceilings in the reception-rooms and the ball-room are twenty-eight feet high. My father is lineal descendant of the Belted Earls.'
  53. " 'Of course,' she goes on, 'my father wouldn't allow a drummer to set his foot in Elmcroft. If he knew that I was talking to one over the fence, he would lock me in my room.'
  54.  " 'Would you let me come there?' says I. 'Would you talk to me if I was to call? For,' I goes on, 'if you said yes,I might come and see you?'
  55.  " 'I must not talk to you,' she says, 'because we have not been introduced. It is not exactly proper. So I will say good-bye, Mr.--'
  56. 'Say the name,' says I. 'You haven't forgotten it.'"
  57.  'Pescud,' says she, a little mad.
  58.  'The rest of the name!' I demands, as cool as I could be."
  59.  'John,' says she.
  60.  'John-what?' I says.
  61.  'John A.,' says she, with her head high. 'Are you through, now?'
  62.  'I'm coming to see the belted earl tomorrow,' I says.
  63.  'He'll feed you to his fox-hounds,' says she, laughing.
  64.  'If he does, it'll improve their running,' says I. 'I'm something of a hunter myself.'"
  65.  'I must be going in now,' says she. 'I oughtn't to have spoken to you at all. I hope
    you'll have a pleasant trip back to Minneapolis-or Pittsburgh, was it? Good-bye!'
  66.  " 'Good-night,' says I, 'and it wasn't Minneapolis. What's your name, first, please?'
  67.  "She hesitated. Then she pulled a leaf off a bush, and said:
  68.  " 'My name is Jessie,' says she.
  69.  " 'Good-night, Miss Allyn', says I.
  70.  "The next morning at eleven, sharp, I rang the doorbell of that World Fair main building. After about three quarters of an hour, an old man of about eighty showed up and asked what I wanted. I gave him my business card, and said I wanted to see the Colonel. He showed me in.
  71.  "Say, did you ever crack open a wormy English walnut? That's what that house was like. There wasn't enough furniture in it to fill an eight-dollar flat. Some old horsehair lounges and three-legged chairs and some framed ancestors on the walls were all that met the eye. But when Colonel Allyn comes in, the place seemed to light up. You could almost hear a band playing, and see a bunch of oldtimers in wigs and white stockings dancing a quadrille. It was the style of him, although he had on the same shabby clothes I saw him wear at the station. For about nine seconds he had me rattled, and I came mighty near getting cold feet and trying to sell him some plate-glass. But I got my nerve back pretty quick. He asked me to sit down, and I told him everything. I told him how I had followed his daughter from Cincinnati, and what I did it for, and all about my salary and prospects, and explained to him my little code of living - to be always decent and
    right in your home town. At first, I thought he was going to throw me out of the window, but I kept on talking.
  72.  "Well, that got him laughing, and I'll bet that was the first laugh those ancestors and horsehair sofa had heard in many a day.
  73.  "We talked two hours. I told him everything I knew; and then he began to ask questions and I told him the rest. All I asked of was to give me a chance. If I couldn't make a hit with the little lady, I'd clear out, and not bother them any more. At last he says:
  74.   'There was a Sir Courtenay Pescud in the time of Charles I, if I remember rightly.'
  75.   'If there was,' says I 'he can't claim kin with our bunch. We've always lived in and around Pittsburgh. I've got an uncle in the real-estate business, and one in trouble somewhere out in Kansas. You can inquire about any of the rest of us from anybody in the old Smoky Town, and get satisfactory replies. Did you ever run across that story about the captain of the whaler, who tried to make a sailor say his prayers?' says I.
  76.  'It occurs to me that I have never been so fortunate,' says the Colonel.
  77. "So I told it to him. Laugh! I was wishing to myself that he was a customer. What a bill of glass, I'd sell him! And then he says:
  78.   'The relating of anecdotes and humorous occurrences has always seemed to me, Mr. Pescud, to be a particularly agreeable way of promoting and perpetuating amenities between friends. With your permission, I will relate to you a fox-hunting story with which I was personally connected, and which may furnish you some amusement
  79.  "Two evenings later, I got a chance to speak a word with Miss Jessie alone on the porch while the Colonel was thinking up another story.
     " 'It's going to be a fine evening,' says I.
  80.  'He's coming,' says she. 'He's going to tell you, this time, the story about the old African and the green watermelons. It always comes after the one about the Yankees and the game rooster. There was another time; she goes on, 'that you nearly got left- it was at Pulaski City.'
  81.  " 'Yes,' says I, 'I remember. My foot slipped as I was jumping on the step, and I nearly tumbled off.'
  82.  " 'I know,' says she. 'And - and I- I was afraid you had, John A. I was afraid you had. '
  83.  "And then she skips into the house through one of the big windows."
  84.  "Coketown!" droned the porter, making his way through the slowing car.
  85.  Pescud gathered his hat and baggage with the leisurely promptness of an old traveller.
  86.  "I married her a year ago," said John, "I told you I built a house in the East End. The belted- I mean the Colonel-is there, too. I find him waiting at the gate whenever I get back from a trip to hear any new story, I might have picked up on the road,"
  87.  I glanced out of the window. Coketown was nothing more than a ragged hillside dotted with a score of black dismal huts propped up against dreary mounts of slag and clinkers. It rained in slanting torrents, too and the rills foamed and splashed down through the black mud to the railroad- tracks.
  88. "You won't sell much plate-glass here, John," said I. "Why do you get off at this end-o'-the-world?"
  89.  "Why?," said Pescud, "the other day I took Jessie for a little trip to Philadelphia, and coming back she thought she saw some petunias in a pot in one of those windows over there just like some she used to raise down in the old Virginia home. So I thought, I'd drop off here for the night, and see if I could dig up some of the cuttings or blossoms for her. Here we are. Good-night, old man. I gave you the address. Come out and see us when you have time."
  90. The train moved forward. One of the dotted brown ladies insisted on having windows raised, now that the rain had started beating against them. The porter came along with his mysterious wand and began to light the car.
  91.  I glanced downward and saw the best-seller. I picked it up and set it carefully farther along on the floor of the car, where the raindrops would not fall upon it. And then, suddenly, I smiled, and seemed to see that life has no geographical bounds
  92. "Good-luck to you, Trevelyan," I said. "And may you get the petunias for your
    princess!"
    About the Author
    O. Henry is the pseudonym of William Sydney Porter (1862-1910),an American writer
    of short stories, best known for his ironic plot twists and surprise endings. Born and
    raised in Greensboro, North Carolina, O. Henry was fascinated by New York street
    life, which provided a setting for many of his later stories. During the last ten years of
    his life, O. Henry became one of the most popular writers in America publishing over
    500 short stories in dozens of widely read periodicals. His style of storytelling became
    a model not only for short fiction, but also for American motion pictures and television
    programmes. Writing at the rate of more than one story per week, O. Henry published
    ten collections of stories during a career that barely spanned a decade. In 1919, the
    O. Henry Memorial Awards were founded by the Society of Arts and Science for the
    best American short stories published each year.

Imagine that you are the poet, William Wordsworth. You continue on your walk,
and when you reach home you tell a friend what you saw and felt. Which of the
following best describes your experience? (Work in pairs, then have a class
discussion.

a) "I was walking past some fields when I saw a young girl, a farm worker, harvesting
grain by hand, with a sickle. She was so beautiful that I stood out of sight and
watched her for a long time. I have never seen anyone more gorgeous! In fact,
she reminded me of other beautiful experiences I've had - the song of the
nightingale or the cuckoo, for instance. I'd certainly like to see her again!"
b) "As I was standing on the hill top just now, I heard a very sad and plaintive song. I
looked down, and saw a young woman reaping grain, singing as she did so. She
seemed quite melancholy as she sang. But somehow her song brought great
comfort and joy to me. In fact, I found it a very emotional experience. As I
continued my walk along the hill top, I also heard a nightingale and a cuckoo. But
the young farm worker's song affected me most deeply, even though I couldn't
understand the words."
c) "Just now, as I was walking in the valley, I saw a young farm worker in the field.
She was singing to herself as she worked. I was so affected by her singing, that I
stopped and listened. She had a beautiful voice, which seemed to fill the whole
valley. The song was a sad one, and I couldn't understand the words. But its
plaintive tone and melancholy sound touched me greatly, and its beauty
reminded me of the song of a nightingale and a cuckoo. After some time, I walked
up the hill, carrying the memory of the young woman's hauntingly beautiful song
with me."


Some are Purple and gold flecked grey
For she who has journeyed through life midway,
Whose hands have cherished , whose love has blest,
And cradled fair sons on her faithful breast,
And serves her household in fruitful pride,
And worship the gods at her husband's side.

Read the lines given above and answer the question that follow:

Purple and golden coloured bangles represent motherhood. How?


For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Read the lines given above and answer the question that follow.

Explain with reference to context.


“I love the West,” said the girl irrelevantly. Her eyes were shining softly. She looked away out the car window. She began to speak truly and simply without the gloss of style and manner: “Mamma and I spent the summer in Deliver. She went home a week ago

because father was slightly ill. I could live and be happy in the West. I think the air here agrees with me. Money isn’t everything. But people always misunderstand things and remain stupid—” “Say, Mr. Marshal,” growled the glum-faced man. “This isn’t quite fair. I’m needing a drink, and haven’t had a smoke all day. Haven’t you talked long enough? Take me in the smoker now, won’t you? I’m half dead for a pipe.”

The bound travellers rose to their feet, Easton with the Same slow smile on his face. “I can’t deny a petition for tobacco,” he said, lightly. “It’s the one friend of the unfortunate. Good-bye, Miss Fairchild. Duty calls, you know.” He held out his hand for a farewell. “It’s too bad you are not going East,” she said, reclothing herself with manner and style. “But you must go on to Leavenworth, I suppose?” “Yes,” said Easton, “I must go on to Leavenworth.”

The two men sidled down the aisle into the smoker. The two passengers in a seat near by had heard most of the conversation. Said one of them: “That marshal’s a good sort of chap. Some of these Western fellows are all right.” “Pretty young to hold an office like that, isn’t he?” asked the other. “Young!” exclaimed the first speaker, “why—Oh! didn’t you catch on? Say—did you ever know an officer to handcuff a prisoner to his right hand?”

Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.

What does the glum faced man want to do and how does Easton take leave from Miss Fairchild?


The women came out on the shore, and made for the stepping—?stones. They had plenty to laugh and bicker about, as they approached the river in a noisy crowd. They girded up their skirts, so as to jump from stone to stone, and they clanked their sickles and forks together over their shoulders to have ease of movement. They shouted their quarrels above the gush of the river. Noise frightens crocodiles. The big mugger did not move, and all the women crossed in safety to the other bank. Here they had to climb a steep hillside to get at the grass, but all fell to with a will, and sliced away at it wherever there was foothold to be had. Down below them ran the broad river, pouring powerfully out from its deep narrow pools among the cold cliffs and shadows, spreading into warm shallows, lit by kingfishers. Great turtles lived there, and mahseer weighing more than a hundred pounds. Crocodiles too. Sometimes you could see them lying out on those slabs of clay over there, but there were none to be seen at the moment.

Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.

What did the women carry?


Read the extract given below and answer the questions that follow:

Mabel: Oh! Why didn’t I face it? But I couldn’t—I had to believe.
Dancy: And now you can’t. It’s the end, Mabel.
Mabel: [Looking up at him] No.
[Dancy goes suddenly on his knees and seizes her hand.]
Dancy: Forgive me!
Mabel: [Putting her hand on his head] Yes; oh, yes! I think I’ve known for a long time, really. Only — why? What made you?

(i) How does Dancy respond to Mabel’s question? 

(ii) What makes Dancy say ‘that’s not in human nature’ a little later? 

(iii) Why does Inspector Dede arrive at Dancy’s house? How does Mabel try to stall him? 

(iv) To whom was Dancy’s suicide note addressed? What had he written in it? 

(v) What does Margaret mean when she says that keeping faith is ‘not enough’ and ‘we’ve all done that’?
What, in your opinion, should his friends have done? 


How the discovery of fire has helped the mankind?


What do you know about the queen ant?


What questions did Golu ask the python?


Discuss the question in pairs before you write the answer.
Who did he first choose as his master? Why did he leave that master?


What did the speaker do while hiding himself in the banyan tree branches?


creatures lost their lives in the classic struggle between the cobra and the mongoose. Who were those victims?


Multiple Choice Question:

Such silly questions are baseless, still ______


Read the extract given below and answer the questions that follow:

All around the field spectators were gathered
Cheering on all the young women and men
Then the final event of the day was approaching
The last race is about to begin.

 - Nine Gold Medals, David Roth
  1. Where had the ‘young women and men’ come from? What had brought them together?     [2]
  2. What was the last event of the day? How many athletes were participating in this event?    [2]
  3. What happened to the youngest athlete halfway through the race? How did he deal with the situation?     [3]
  4. Describe the manner in which the race ends.    [3]

Read the passage given below and answer the questions (i), (ii) and (iii) that follow:

(1)

Something happens to cats after we have enjoyed a delicious meal. Call it a feline sugar hit or a rush of good feelings. Abandoning our usually sedentary nature, we transform into crazy beasts who thunder down corridors, spring from one piece of furniture to another, or pounce from behind half-closed doors to attack the shoelaces of unsuspecting passersby. It is as though we are temporarily possessed.

 

 

5

(2)

That, at least, is my excuse, dear reader - and the only explanation I can offer for my entirely unplanned global TV debut.

 

(3)

To be fair, I had no way of knowing that my master was receiving visitors that particular afternoon. Nor that he was being interviewed live, let alone by one of America’s most famous journalists.

10

(4)

All I knew was that, a few minutes after gorging myself on a favourite treat of creamy pudding, I felt that sudden, primal explosion of energy. I made my way back to the suite of rooms that I shared with my master and felt an overpowering compulsion to do something completely mad. I wanted to run like a furious jungle cat, at that particular moment.

 

 

 

15

(5)

Bursting through the door of the room in which my master received visitors, I tore up the carpet as I raced towards the sofa opposite where he was sitting. I ripped its fabric as I scrambled up its side like a savage creature clawing its way up a perilous cliff. Then with a final, frenzied burst, I launched myself off one arm of the sofa, leaping towards the other.

 

 

20

(6)

It was only at this point that I realised the sofa was occupied by the journalist. She was halfway through a sentence, and my abrupt appearance caught my master's guest completely by surprise.

 

(7)

You know, when something truly unexpected happens, time can seem to slow down. Well, that’s how it was. As I flew past the woman's face, her expression turned from one of calm engagement to that of total surprise.

25

(8)

I As she pushed back in her seat to avoid me, the shock on her face could not have been more evident.

 

(9)

But, dear reader, she was not more shaken than me. I had not been expecting anyone on the sofa, let alone a TV celebrity, nor one who was mid-interview. As I headed towards the opposite end of the sofa, for the first time I observed the lighting, the cameras and the crew watching the action from the shadows. By the time I landed on the other arm of the sofa, all the energy that had propelled me was gone.

30

 

 

35

(10)

I was, no longer, a furious jungle cat.

 

(11)

The journalist looked at me. I looked at her. Both of us were taking in what had just happened. I was also conscious of the cameras still rolling as well as many pairs of eyes watching me at that moment. My moment of global glory.

 

 

Adapted from: The Dalai Lama's Cat Omnibus
By David Michie

 

(i)

  1. Given below are three words and phrases. Find the words which have a similar meaning in the passage: [3]
    1. inactive
    2. eating in a greedy manner
    3. dangerous
  2. For each of the words given below, write a sentence of at least ten words using the same word unchanged in form, but with a different meaning from that which it carries in the passage: [3]
    1. thunder (line 3)
    2. spring (line 3)
    3. past (line 26)

(ii) Answer the following questions in your own words as briefly as possible:

  1. What is the usual nature of the narrator's kind? How is it differently presented in the passage? [2]
  2. What did the 'favourite treat of creamy pudding' do to the narrator? [2]
  3. Describe the actions of the narrator after bursting into the visitors' room. [2]
  4. How did the journalist react when the narrator 'flew past' her face? [2]

(iii) Summarise how the narrator became a global celebrity (paragraphs 4 to 11). You are required to write the summary in the form of a connected passage in about 100 words. Failure to keep within the word limit will be penalised. [6]


Read the passage given below and answer the questions (i), (ii) and (iii) that follow: 

(1)

The Police Superintendent is walking across the market square followed by a constable. Suddenly he hears a loua shout, "So you bite, you damned brute? Lads, don't let the dog go! Biting is prohibited nowadays!"

There is the sound of 'yelping and the Superintendent sees a dog running out of a timber-yard. A man runs after it and tries to seize the dog by its hind legs'. Sleepy countenances protrude from the shops and soon a crowd gathers.

 

 

 

5

(2)

"It looks like a row, your honour", says the constable.

The Superintendent turns to his left and strides towards the crowd. He sees the aforementioned man standing close by the gate of the timber-yard, holding his right hand in the air and displaying a bleeding finger to the crowd. He was the town's goldsmith. The culprit who has caused the sensation, a white puppy with a sharp muzzle and a yellow patch on its back, is sitting on the ground.

"What's it all about?", the Superintendent inquires, pushing his way through the crowd, "Who was it that shouted?"

10

(3)

The goldsmith answers, "I was walking along here not interfering with anyone when this low brute, for no rhyme or reason, bit my finger. I am a working man. Mine is fine work. I must have damages, for I shan't be able to use this finger for a week."

15

(4)

"I won't let this pass! Find out whose dog it is and draw up a report!", the Superintendent commands the constable.

 

20

(5)

"I fancy it's General Zhigalov's dog", says someone in the crowd.

Suddenly indignant, the Superintendent turns to the goldsmith and asks, "There's one thing I can't make out. How it could have bitten you? Surely it couldn't reach your finger. It's a little dog, and you are a great hulking fellow! You must have scratched your finger with a nail, and then the idea struck you to get damages for it. I know your sort!"

 

 

25

(6)

"No, that's not the General's dog", says the constable, with profound conviction, "the General has valuable dogs, and goodness knows what this is! No coat, no shape, a low creature." The Superintendent says, "You have been injured, goldsmith and we can't let the matter drop. You must be compensated for the damage."

30

(7)

"It is the General's, that's certain!", says a voice in the crowd.

"Oh! Constable, take the dog to the General's and inquire there. Say I found it and sent it. And tell them not to let it out into the street. A dog is a delicate animal. And you, you goldsmith, put your hand down. It's your own fault."

On seeing the General's cook approaching, the Superintendent asks him, "Is it one of yours?"

"We have never had one like this", says the cook.

"There's no need to waste time asking", decides the Superintendent, "it's a stray dog. Chase it away!"

35

(8)

"It's not our dog", the cook goes on, "it belongs to the General's brother who arrived the other day."

"Is his Excellency's brother here? Delighted to hear if', says the Superintendent, and his whole face beams with an ecstatic smile, "it's not a bad pup. A lively creature, indeed. Come, why are you shivering, you nice little pup?"

40

(9)

The cook calls the dog and walks away from the timber-yard.

45

(10)

The crowd laughs at the goldsmith.

 

 

Adapted from : A Chameleon by Anton Chekov

 
    1. Given below are three words and phrases. Find the words which have a similar meaning in the passage:   [3]
      1. faces
      2. walks purposefully
      3. precious
    2. For each of the words given below, choose the sentence that uses the same word unchanged in form, but with a different meaning from that which it carries in the passage:  [3]
      1. row    (line 7)
        1. We sat in a row at the back of the room.
        2. The vegetables were planted in neat rows.
        3. A row has broken out amongst the vendors.
        4. The fisherman rowed us back to the shore.
      2. left    (line 8)
        1. I instructed the driver to take a left turn at the intersection.
        2. The bank is situated to the left of the library.
        3. They left the house at six o'clock in the morning to reach the airport on time.
        4. He's giving away money left, right and centre.
      3. fancy   (line 21)
        1. He fancies himself as a serious actor.
        2. I was foot-loose and fancy-free in those days.
        3. He had some fanciful notion about crossing the Atlantic in a barrel. 
        4. He sells poor goods, but charges fancy prices.
  2. Answer the following questions in your own words as briefly as possible:
    1. How does power play an important role in the Superintendent's decisions?   [2]
    2. Why does the goldsmith ask for damages?   [2]
    3. Who does the dog belong to? How do we know it?   [2]
  3. Trace the Superintendent's reactions from the time the initial voice in the crowd is heard till the cook takes the dog away (paragraphs 5 to 9). You are required to write the summary in the form of a connected passage in about 100 words. Failure to keep within the word limit will be penalised.   [8]

Why does Shane Koyczan begin the poem, Beethoven, with the word “Listen”?


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