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What type of a shopkeeper was Mr. Purcell?

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प्रश्न

What type of shopkeeper was Mr. Purcell?

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उत्तर

Mr. Purcell sold pets at his shop. They included both animals and birds. He displayed his birds (pet) in golden and beautiful cages. He also sold fish food and bird seed. He prescribed medicines for them. He knew how to treat sick birds and animals. He advised his customer what to feed the birds on and how to look after the animals. He appeared to know everything about birds and animals. He was a wise man. His behaviour with the customers was like that of a professional. He never thought about the value and importance of freedom. He deprived the birds of their freedom to gain money.

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अध्याय 6: I Want Something in a Cage - Extra Questions

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एनसीईआरटी English - An Alien Hand Class 7
अध्याय 6 I Want Something in a Cage
Extra Questions | Q 1

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How have the people of the community helped one another? What role do the women of Kalikuda play during these days?


Dr. Wood, the capable general practitioner, has been requested to solve this case. He gathers information about the murder from the inmates or the house. The information is presented in two parts. 

Parts A: Background story by Arthur Conan Doyle 
Parts B: Conversation between Dr. Wood and Cecil Barker 
                                         Part A 
                                 Background Story 

The village of Birlstone is a small and very ancient cluster of half-timbered cottages on the northern border of the county of Sussex. For centuries it had remained unchanged but its picturesque appearance has attracted well-to-do residents. A number of small shops have come into being to meet the wants of the increased population. 

About half a mile from the town, standing in an old park famous for its huge beech trees, was the ancient Manor House, with its many gables and its small diamond paned windows. The only approach to the house was over a drawbridge, the chains and windlass of which had been rusted and broken. The family consisted of only two individuals - John Douglas and his wife. Douglas was cheery and genial to all and had acquired great popularity among the villagers. He appeared to have plenty of money. Thus, it came about that John Douglas had, within five years, won himself quite a reputation in Birlstone. His wife was a beautiful woman, tall, dark and slender, younger than her husband; a disparity which seemed in no way to mar the contentment of their family life. It was remarked sometimes, that the confidence between the two did not appear to be complete. There were signs sometimes of some nerve strain upon the part of Mrs. Douglas. 
Cecil Barker, was a frequent and welcome visitor at Manor House, Barker was an easy going, free handed gentleman. 
It was on Jan 6th at 11:45 that the alarm reached the small local police station that John Douglas had been murdered. Dr. Wood seemed to be unnerved and troubled. 

                                       Part B 
Conversation between Dr. Wood and Cecil Barker

Dr. Wood : We will touch nothing until my superiors arrive. {He spoke in a hushed voice, stating at the dreadful head) 
C.Barker : Nothing has been touched untilnow. 
Dr. Wood : When did this happen? 
C.Barker : It was just half-past eleven. I was sitting by the fire in my bedroom when I heard the gun shot. In thirty seconds I was in the room. 
Dr. Wood : Wasthedooropen? 
C.Barker : Yes, it was open. Poor Douglas was lying as you see him. 
Dr. Wood : Did you see anyone? 
C. Barker : No, I heard Mrs. Douglas coming down the stains behind me, and I rushed out 1 to prevent her from seeing this dreadful sight. 
Dr. Wood : But I have heard that the drawbridge is kept up all night. 
C. Barker : Yee,it was up until l lowered it. 
Dr. Wood : Then how could any murderer have got away? It ls out of question! Mr Douglas must have shot himself. 
C. Barker : That was our first idea. But see! The diamond paned window is open to its full extent. 
Dr. Wood : I think someone stood there while trying to get out. 
C. Barker : You mean that someone waded across the moat? 
Dr. Wood : Exactly!
C. Barker : I agree with you. 
Dr. Wood : But what I ask you ls, how did he even get into the house at all if the bridge was up? 
C. Barker : Ah, that's the question. 
Dr. Wood : At what time was the bridge raised? 
C. Barker : It was nearly 6 O'clock. 
Dr. Wood : Then it comes to this, if anyone came from outside -if they did-they must have got in across the bridge before six and had been in hiding ever since. The man was waiting. He shot him, when he got the chance. 


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.

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“From San Carlos,” he said, and smiled.
That was his native town and so it gave him pleasure to mention it and he smiled.
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