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प्रश्न
Go to the local library or talk to older persons in your locality and find legends in your own language. Tell the class these legends.
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उत्तर
Echo was a nymph who talked too much. She was very fond of having the last word. One day she spoke rudely to the great Juno, who said that for this offence Echo should never use her voice again, unless to repeat what she had just heard, but since she was so very fond of last words, she might repeat the last words of others. This was almost as bad as if Juno had changed her into a parrot. Echo was very much ashamed, and hid herself in the forest. Narcissus, a young man who had hair as yellow as gold and eyes as blue as the sky, – a very rare thing in Greece, where most people were very dark, – used to hunt in the forest where Echo was hiding. As she was peeping out shyly from some cave or from behind a great tree, Echo often saw Narcissus, and she admired him very much. One day Narcissus became separated from his friends, and hearing something rustle among
the leaves, he called out, “Who’s here?”
“Here,” answered Echo.
“Here I am. Come!” said Narcissus.
“I am come,” said Echo; and, as she spoke, she came out from among the trees. When Narcissus saw a stranger, instead of one of his friends as he had expected, he looked surprised and walked quickly away. After this, Echo never came out and allowed herself to be seen again, and in time she faded away till she became only a voice. This voice was heard for many, many years in forests and among mountains, particularly in caves. In their solitary walks, hunters often heard it. Sometimes it mocked the barking of their dogs; sometimes it repeated their own last words. It always had a weird and mournful sound, and seemed to make lonely places lonelier.
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Personal Pronouns
Read the following conversation:
Malavika and Deepak are looking through some photographs of Malavika’s family.
Malavika : Now … this is my brother Shantanu. Shantanu is in Class VIII. Shantanu is brilliant at playing tennis. Shantanu is also good at singing. Shantanu sings a lot.
Deepak : Shantanu sounds interesting. I’d like to meet Shantanu. I’m looking for someone to play tennis with.
Malavika : Well … why don’t you come around tonight and meet Shantanu? My parents will be out. My parents always go out on Tuesdays.
Improve the above conversation by using suitable pronouns where required.
The angel wrote and vanished.
The next night, It came again with a great wakening light,
And show's the names whom love of God had blest,
And Lo! Bin Adhem's name led all the rest.
Read the lines given above and answer the following question.
Did the angel appear again?
We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe^ and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts’that once filled them and still lover this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.
Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
When will the shores swarm with the invisible dead of the speaker’s tribe? Why?
It was my business to cross the bridge, explore the bridge head 3 beyond and find out to what point the enemy had advanced. I did this and returned over the bridge. There were not so many carts now and very few people on foot, but the old man was still there.’’Where do you come from?” I asked him.
“From San Carlos,” he said, and smiled.
That was his native town and so it gave him pleasure to mention it and he smiled.
“I was taking care of animals,” he explained.
“Oh,” I said, not quite understanding.
“Yes,” he said, “I stayed, you see, taking care of animals. I was the last one to leave the town of San Carlos.”
He did not look like a shepherd nor a herdsman and I looked at his black dusty clothes and his gray dusty face and his steel rimmed spectacles and said, “What animals were they?”
“Various animals,” he said, and shook his head. “I had to leave them.”
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What gave the old man pleasure?
“If you are rested I would go,” I urged. “Get up and try to walk now.”
“Thank you,” he said and got to his feet, swayed from side to side and then sat down backwards in the dust.
“I was taking care of animals,” he said dully, but no longer to me. “I was only taking care of animals.”
There was nothing to do about him. It was Easter Sunday and the Fascists were advancing toward the Ebro. It was a grey overcast day with a low ceiling so their planes were not up. That and the fact that cats know how to look after themselves was all the good luck that the old man would ever have.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What is the theme of the story?
After washing from his hands and face the dust and soil of work, Joe left the kitchen, and went to the little bedroom. A pair of large bright eyes looked up at him from the snowy bed; looked at him tenderly, gratefully, pleadingly. How his heart swelled in his bosom! With what a quicker motion came the heart-beats! Joe sat down, and now, for the first time, examining the thin free carefully under the lamp light, saw that it was an attractive face, and full of a childish sweetness which suffering had not been able to obliterate.
“Your name is Maggie?” he said, as he sat down and took her soft little hand in his.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice struck a chord that quivered in a low strain of music.
“Have you been sick long?”
“Yes, sir.” What a sweet patience was in her tone!
“Has the doctor been to see you?”
“He used to come”
“But not lately?”
“No, sir.”
Read the extract given below and answer the questions that follow.
What did Joe notice about Maggie in the light of the lamp?
Joe did not see the Guardians of the Poor on that day, on the next, nor on the day following. In fact, he never saw them at all on Maggie’s account, for in less than a week Mrs. Joe Thompson would as soon leave thought of taking up her own abode in the almshouse as sending Maggie there.
What light and blessing did that sick and helpless child bring to the home of Joe Thompson, the poor wheelwright! It had been dark, and cold, and miserable there for a long time just because his wife had nothing to love and care for out of herself, and so became soar, irritable, ill-tempered, and self-afflicting in the desolation of her woman’s nature. Now the sweetness of that sick child, looking ever to her in love, patience, and gratitude, was as honey to her soul, and she carried her in her heart as well as in her arms, a precious burden. As for Joe Thompson, there was not a man in all the neighbourhood who drank daily of a more precious wine of life than he. An angel had come into his house, disguised as a sick, helpless, and miserable child, and filled all its dreary chambers with the sunshine of love.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
What kind of person was Mrs Thompson before Maggie came into her life?
She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant’s. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show- windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out.
The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.
Read the extract given below and answer the question that follow.
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(b)She won’t be so upset if she knows about the poor beggar with sores on his feet
(c )If the chappals do fit, will you really not mind?
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lost
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Who is giving these instructions?
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Their activities when they were children in school?
Multiple Choice Question:
What does the child finally decide?
Answer the following question:
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