Answer These Question in One Or Two Sentences . (The Paragraph Numbers Within Brackets Provide Clues to the Answer.)When Did She Leave Home for Delhi, and Why? - English (Moments)

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Answer these question in one or two sentences . (The paragraph numbers within brackets provide clues to the answer.)

When did she leave home for Delhi, and why? 

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Solution

When she turned sixteen and was under pressure to get married, Santosh threatened her parents that she would never marry if she did not get a proper education. Therefore, she left home and got herself enrolled in a school in Delhi.

Concept: Reading
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Chapter 8.1: Reach for the Top - Thinking about Language 1 [Page 103]

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NCERT Class 9 English Beehive
Chapter 8.1 Reach for the Top
Thinking about Language 1 | Q 1.4 | Page 103

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Listen to an interview between the police inspector in charge of the case, the house­keeper, Ms. Lakshmi and the watchman, Ram Singh. As you listen, note down the details of the burglar.

Inspector:   Hello, madam. I am Inspector Maan Singh. I am in charge of the burglary
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Inspector:   What about his physique?
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which was faded.
Inspector:   Do you remember the colour of his trousers?
Lakshmi:   They were of a dark shade -either black or blue.
Inspector: Can you tell me something about his face?

Lakshmi:   Unfortunately no. When he entered my room I panicked. But then I
gathered courage and screamed and tried to run away. But I was a bit late.
He struck me with a staff and I really don't remember anything after that.
May be I was knocked out.
Later on, I came to know that he broke into the bedroom and ran off with the
jewellery. But Ram Singh, the watchman, who tried to catch him may be
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Inspector to Ram Singh:
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Ram Singh:   He had straight black hair.
Inspector:    What about the shape of his face and his complexion?
Ram Singh: He had an oval face with grey eyes and I think he was dark complexioned.
Inspector:   Did he wear spectacles?
Ram Singh:   Yes, with a plastic frame and his nose was rather sharp.
Inspector:   What else can you remember about him? What about his teeth and lips?
Ram Singh:   His lips were quite thick.
Inspector:   Is there anything else that you remember about him?
Ram Singh:   When I heard some noise from inside, I ran in. I tried to stop the burglar and
we had a scuffie. During the struggle I noticed that he had six fingers on his
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motorbike.
Inspector:   Thank you Ram Singh. We will make sketches on the basis of your
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The Process of Writing : CODER 
In your written work, it is advisable to follow the process outlined below. (We call it 'CODER' - Collect your ideas; Organise your ideas; make your first Draft; Edit your work; Revise your work.) 
1. C - Collect your ideas 
Working in groups, recall and jot down the opinion that the 'scientist' formed of his boss in A.5. 
2. 0 - Organise your ideas 
(a) Now work in pairs. Choose one or two opinions about the boss that you feel quite strongly about, or agree with. 
(b) Also, note down the opinion that you prefer about the scientist. 
3. D - make your first Draft 
Write the description individually. You may refer to some of the words in the boxes in A.2. and A. 7. 
Note : At this stage of your course, you should not worry about the language and tone of a formal description. 
4. E -Edit your work 
Now exchange your description with your partner, and suggest improvements in grammar, spelling, punctuation etc. 
5. R - Revise your work 
Rewrite your speech and check it carefully, before handing it to your teacher. 


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).


Read the following statement and imagine you are Jack.
"I can't afford to, after what Jack's done to his teeth."
What is it, you think, you can not afford to do and why? Write a diary entry of not
less than 125 words.
(In-class activity; not to be set up as homework).


Now dramatise the play. Form groups of eight to ten students. Within each group,
you will need to choose

  • a director, who will be overall incharge of the group's presentation.
  • the cast, to play the various parts.
  • someone to be in charge of costumes.
  • someone to be in charge of props.
  • a prompter.
    Within your groups, do ensure that you
  • read both scenes, not just your part within one scene if you are acting.
  • discuss and agree on the stage directions.
  • read and discuss characterization.
  • hold regular rehearsals before the actual presentation.
    Staging
  • The stage can be very simple, with exits on either side representing doors to the outside and
    to the rest of the house respectively.

Read the play as a whole class with different children reading different parts.
SCENE : The kitchen of the Bishop's cottage, It is plainly but substantially furnished. Doors
R, and L and L.C. Window R.C. Fireplace with heavy mantelpiece down R. Oak settee with
cushions behind door L.C. Table in window R.C. with writing materials and crucifix (wood).
Eight-day clock R. of window. Kitchen dresser with cupboard to lock, down L. Oak dinner
table R.C. Chairs, books, etc. Winter wood scene without. On the mantel piece are two very
handsome candlesticks which look strangely out of place with their surroundings.
[Marie and Persome discovered. Marie stirring some soup on the fire. Persome laying the
cloth, etc.]
Persome: Marie, isn' t the soup boiling yet ?
Marie: Not yet, madam.
Persome: Well, it ought to be. You haven't tended the fire properly, child.
Marie: But, madam, you yourself made the fire up.
Persome: Don't answer me back like that. It is rude.
Marie: Yes, madam.
Persome: Then don't let me have to rebuke you again.
Marie: No, madam.
Persome: I wonder where my brother can be. (Looking at the clock.) It is after eleven o'clock and no sign of him. Marie !
Marie: Yes, madam.
Persome: Did Monseigneur the Bishop leave any message for me ?
Marie: No, madam.
Persome: Did he tell you where he was going?
Marie: Yes, madam.
Persome (imitating): 'Yes, madam'. Then why haven't you told me, stupid!
Marie: Madam didn't ask me.
Persome: But that is no reason for you not telling me, is it ?
Marie: Madam said only this morning I was not to chatter, so I thought...

Persome: Ah, Mon Dieu! You thought! Ah! It is hopeless.
Marie: Yes, madam.
Persome: Don't keep saying 'Yes, Madam' like a parrot, nincompoop!
Marie: No, madam.
Persome: Well. Where did Monseigneur say he was going?
Marie: To my mother's, madam.
Persome: To your mother's indeed ! And why, pray ?
Marie. Monseigneur asked me how she was, and I told him she was feeling poorly.
Persome : You told him she was feeling poorly did you? And so my brother is to be kept out of his bed, and go without his supper because you told him she was feeling poorly. There's gratitude for you!
Marie: Madam, the soup is boiling!
Persome: Then pour it out, fool, and don't chatter. (Marie about to do so.) No, no, not like that. Here, let me do it, and did you put the salt-cellars on the table-the silver ones?
Marie: The silver ones, madam?
Persome: Yes, the silver ones. Are you deaf as well as stupid?
Marie: They are sold, madam.
Persome: Sold! (with horror) Sold! Are you mad? Who sold them? Why were they sold?
Marie: Monseigneur the Bishop told me this afternoon, while you were out, to take them to Monseigneur Gervais, who has often admired them, and sell them for as much as I could.
Persome: But you had no right to do so without asking me.
Marie (with awe): But, madam, Monseigneur the Bishop told me.
Persome: Monseigneur the Bishop is a-ahem! But-but what can he have wanted with the money!
Marie: Pardon, madam, but I think it was for Mere Gringoire.

Persome: Mere Gringoire indeed! Mere Gringoire! What, the old witch who lives at the top of the hill, and who says she is bedridden because she is too lazy to do any work? And what did Mere Gringoire want with the money, pray ?
Marie: Madam, it was for the rent. The bailiff would not wait any longer, and threatened to turn her out to-day if it were not paid, so she sent little Jean to Monseigneur to
ask for help, and-
Persome: Oh, mon Dieu! It is hopeless, hopeless. We shall have nothing left. His estate is sold, his savings have gone. His furniture, everything. Were it not for my little dot we should starve ! And now my beautiful-beautiful (sobs) salt-cellars. Ah, it is too much, too much. (She breaks down crying.)
Marie: Madam, I am sorry, if I had known-
Persome: Sorry, and why pray? If Monseigneur the Bishop chooses to sell his salt-cellars
he may do so, I suppose. Go and wash your hands, they are disgracefully dirty.
Marie: Yes, madam (going towards R.)
[Enter the Bishop, C.]
Bishop: Ah! How nice and warm it is in here! It is worth going out in the cold for the sake of the comfort of coming in. [Persome has hastened to help him off with his coat etc. Marie has dropped a deep courtesy.]
Bishop: Thank you, dear. (Looking at her.) Why, what is the matter ? You have been crying. Has Marie been troublesome, eh ? (shaking his finger at her) Ah !
Persome: No, it wasn't Marie-but-but-
Bishop: Well, well, you shall tell me presently! Marie, my child, run home now; your mother is better. I have prayed with her, and the doctor has been. Run home! (Marie putting on cloak and going.) And, Marie, let yourself in quietly in case your mother is asleep.
Marie: Oh, thanks, thanks, Monseigneur. [She goes to door C. ; as it opens the snow drives in.]
Bishop: Here, Marie, take my comforter, it will keep you warm. It is very cold to-night.
Marie: Oh, no Monseigneur ! (shamefacedly). What nonsense, brother, she is young, she won't hurt.
Bishop: Ah, Persome, you have not been out, you don't know how cold it has become. Here, Marie, let me put it on for you. (Does so) There! Run along little one.
[Exit Marie, C.]
Persome: Brother, I have no patience with you. There, sit down and take your soup, it has been waiting ever so long. And if it is spoilt, it serves you right.
Bishop: It smells delicious.
Persome: I'm sure Marie's mother is not so ill that you need have stayed out on such a night as this. I believe those people pretend to be ill just to have the Bishop call on them. They have no thought of the Bishop!
Bishop: It is kind of them to want to see me.
Persome: Well, for my part, I believe that charity begins at home.
Bishop: And so you make me this delicious soup. You are very good to me, sister.
Persome: Good to you, yes! I should think so. I should like to know where you would be without me to look after you. The dupe of every idle scamp or lying old woman in the parish!
Bishop: If people lie to me they are poorer, not I.
Persome: But it is ridiculous; you will soon have nothing left. You give away everything, everything!!!
Bishop: My dear, there is so much suffering in the world, and I can do so little (sighs), so very little.
Persome: Suffering, yes; but you never think of the suffering you cause to those who love you best, the suffering you cause to me.
Bishop (rising): You, sister dear ? Have I hurt you ? Ah, I remember you had been crying. Was it my fault ? I didn' t mean to hurt you. I am sorry.
Persome: Sorry. Yes. Sorry won't mend it. Humph ! Oh, do go on eating your soup before it gets cold.
Bishop: Very well, dear. (Sits.) But tell me-
Persome: You are like a child. I can't trust you out of my sight. No sooner is my back turned than you get that little minx Marie to sell the silver salt-cellars.
Bishop: Ah, yes, the salt-cellars. It is a pity. You-you were proud of them ?

Persome: Proud of them. Why, they have been in our family for years.
Bishop: Yes, it is a pity. They were beautiful; but still, dear, one can eat salt out of china just as well.
Persome: Yes, or meat off the floor, I suppose. Oh, it's coming to that. And as for that old wretch, Mere Gringoire, I wonder she had the audacity to send here again. The last time I saw her I gave her such a talking to that it ought to have had some effect.
Bishop: Yes! I offered to take her in here for a day or two, but she seemed to think it might distress you.
Persome: Distress me !!!
Bishop: And the bailiff, who is a very just man, would not wait longer for the rent, so -soyou see I had to pay it.
Persome: You had to pay it. (Gesture of comic despair.)
Bishop: Yes, and you see I had no money so I had to dispose off the salt-cellars. It was fortunate I had them, wasn't it ? (Smiling) But I'm sorry, I have grieved you.
Persome: Oh, go on! Go on! You are incorrigible. You'll sell your candlesticks next.
Bishop (with real concern): No, no, sister, not my candlesticks.
Persome: Oh! Why not ? They would pay somebody's rent, I suppose.
Bishop: Ah, you are good, sister, to think of that; but-but I don't want to sell them. You see, dear, my mother gave them to me on-on her death-bed just after you were born, and-and she asked me to keep them in remembrance of her, so I would like to keep them; but perhaps it is a sin to set such store by them ?
Persome: Brother, brother, you will break my heart (with tears in her voice). There! Don't say anything more. Kiss me and give me your blessing. I'm going to bed. (He blesses her)
[Bishop makes the sign of the Cross and murmurs a blessing. Persome locks up the
cupboard door and goes R.]
Persome: Don't sit up too long and tire your eyes.
Bishop: No, dear! Good night! [Persome exits R.]
Bishop (comes to table and opens a book, then looks up at the candlesticks). They
would pay somebody's rent. It was kind of her to think of that. [He stirs the fire, trims the lamp, arranges some books and papers, sits down, is restless, shivers slightly ; the clock outside strikes twelve and he settles down to read. Music during this. Enter a Convict stealthily ; he has a long knife and seizes the Bishop from behind]
Convict: If you call out you are a dead man !
Bishop: But, my friend, as you see, I am reading. Why should I call out? Can I help you in any way ?
Convict (hoarsely): I want food. I'm starving, I haven't eaten anything for three days. Give me food quickly, quickly, curse you!
Bishop (eagerly): But certainly, my son, you shall have food. I will ask my sister for the keys of the cupboard. [Rising.] Convict: Sit down !!! (The Bishop sits smiling.) None of that, my friend! I'm too old a bird to be caught with chaff. You would ask your sister for the keys, would you ? A likely
story! You would rouse the house too. Eh ? Ha! ha! A good joke truly. Come, where is the food ? I want no keys. I have a wolf inside me tearing at my entrails, tearing me; quick, tell me; where the food is?
Bishop (aside): I wish Persome would not lock the cupboard. (Aloud) Come, my friend, you have nothing to fear. My sister and I are alone here.
Convict: How do I know that ?
Bishop : Why, I have just told you. [Convict looks long at the Bishop.]
Convict: Humph! I'll risk it. (Bishop, going to door R.) But mind! Play me false and as sure as there are devils in hell, I'll drive my knife through your heart. I have nothing to lose.
Bishop: You have your soul to lose, my son; it is of more value than my heart. (At door R.,
calling.) Persome! Persome! [The Convict stands behind him, with his knife ready.]
Persome (within): Yes, brother.
Bishop: Here is a poor traveller who is hungry. If you have not settled as yet, will you
come and open the cupboard and I will give him some supper. Persome (within). What, at this time of night ? A pretty business truly. Are we to have no sleep now, but to be at the beck and call of every ne'er-do-well who happens to pass?
Bishop: But, Persome, the traveller is hungry. Perome. Oh, very well. I am coming. (Persome enters R. She sees the knife in the Convict's hand.) (Frightened) Brother, what is he doing with that knife?
Bishop: The knife-oh, well, you see, dear, perhaps he may have thought that I-I had sold
ours. [Laughs gently.]
Persome: Brother, I am frightened. He glares at us like a wild beast (aside to him).
Convict: Hurry, I tell you. Give me food or I'll stick my knife in you both and help myself.
Bishop: Give me the keys, Persome (she gives the keys to him). And now, dear, you may
go to bed. [Persome going. The Convict springs in front of her. ]
Convict : Stop! Neither of you shall leave this room till I do. [She looks at the Bishop.]
Bishop: Persome, will you favour this gentleman with your company at supper ? He
evidently desires it.
Persome: Very well, brother. [She sits down at the table staring at the two.]
Bishop: Here is some cold pie and a bottle of wine and some bread.
Convict: Put them on the table, and stand behind it so that I can see you. [Bishop does so and opens drawer in table, taking out knife and fork, looking at
the knife in Convict's hand.]
Convict: My knife is sharp. (He runs his finger along the edge and looks at them meaningfully.) And as for forks…. (taking it up) (laughs) Steel! (He throws it away). We don't use forks in prison.
Persome: Prison ?
Convict: (Cutting off an enormous slice from the pie he tears it with his fingers like an animal. Then starts) What was that ? (He looks at the door.) Why the devil do you leave the window unshuttered and the door unbarred so that anyone can come in ? (shutting them.)

Bishop: That is why they are left open.
Convict: Well, they are shut now !
Bishop (sighs): For the first time in thirty years. [Convict eats voraciously and throws a bone on the floor.]
Persome: Oh, my nice clean floor! [Bishop picks up the bone and puts it on plate.]
Convict: You're not afraid of thieves?
Bishop: I am sorry for them.
Convict: Sorry for them. Ha ! Ha ! Ha! (Drinks from bottle,) That's a good one. Sorry for them. Ha! Ha! Ha! (Drinks) (suddenly) Who the devil are you ?
Bishop: I am a Bishop.
Convict: Ha! Ha ! Ha ! A Bishop! Holy Virgin, a Bishop.
Bishop: I hope you may escape that, my son. Persome, you may leave us; this gentleman will excuse you.
Persome: Leave you with-
Bishop: Please! My friend and I can talk more-freely then. [By this time, owing to his starving condition, the wine has affected the Convict:]
Convict: What's that ? Leave us. Yes, yes, leave us. Good night. I want to talk to the Bishop, The Bishop: Ha! Ha! [Laughs as he drinks, and coughs.]
Bishop: Good night, Persome: [He holds the door open and she goes out R., holding in her skirts as she passes the Convict:]
Convict (chuckling to himself): The Bishop: Ha ! Ha ! Well I'm-(Suddenly very loudly) D'you know what I am ?
Bishop: I think one who has suffered much.
Convict: Suffered ? (puzzled) Suffered? My God, yes. (Drinks) But that's a long time ago. Ha! Ha! That was when I was a man. Now I'm not a man; now I'm a number; number 15729, and I've lived in Hell for ten years.

Bishop. Tell me about it-about Hell.
Convict: Why? (Suspiciously) Do you want to tell the police-to set them on my track ?
Bishop: No! I will not tell the police.
Convict: (looks at him earnestly). I believe you (scratching his head), but damn me if I knew why.
Bishop. (laying his hand on the Convict's arm). Tell me about the time, the time before
you went to Hell.
Convict: It's been so long ago.... I forget; but I had a little cottage, there were vines growing on it. (Dreamily) They looked pretty with the evening sun on them, and, and.... there was a woman, she was (thinking hard), she must have been my wife-yes. (Suddenly and very rapidly). Yes, I remember! She was ill, we had no food, I could get no work, it was a bad year, and my wife, my Jeanette, was ill, dying (pause), so I stole to buy food for her. (Long pause. The Bishop gently pats
his hand.) They caught me. I pleaded with them, I told them why I stole, but they laughed at me, and I was sentenced to ten years in the prison hulks (pause), ten years in Hell. The night I was sentenced, the gaoler told me-told me Jeanette was dead. (Sobs with fury) Ah, damn them, damn them. God curse them all. [He sinks on the table, sobbing.]
Bishop: Now tell me about the prison ship, about Hell.
Convict: Tell you about it ? Look here, I was a man once. I'm a beast now, and they made
me what I am. They chained me up like a wild animal, they lashed me like a hound. I fed on filth, I was covered, with vermin, I slept on boards, and when I complained, they lashed me again. For ten years, ten years. Oh God! They took away my name, they took away my soul, and they gave me a devil in its place. But one day they were careless, one day they forgot to chain up their wild beast,
and he escaped. He was free. That was six weeks ago. I was free, free to starve.
Bishop: To starve ?
Convict: Yes, to starve. They feed you in Hell, but when you escape from it you starve. They were hunting me everywhere and I had no passport, no name. So I stole again. I stole these rags. I stole my food daily. I slept in the woods, in barns, any where. I dare not ask for work, I dare not go into a town to beg, so I stole, and they have made me what I am, they have made me a thief. God curse them all. [Empties the bottle and throws it into the fire-place R., smashing it.]

Bishop: My son, you have suffered much, but there is hope for all.
Convict: Hope ! Hope ! Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! [Laughs wildly.]
Bishop: You have walked far; you are tired. Lie down and sleep on the couch there, and I will get you some coverings.
Convict: And if anyone comes ?
Bishop: No one will come; but if they do, are you not my friend ?
Convict: Your friend ? (puzzled)
Bishop: They will not molest the Bishop's friend.
Convict: The Bishop's friend. [Scratching his head, utterly puzzled]
Bishop: I will get the coverings. [Exit L.]
Convict: (looks after him, scratches his head) The Bishop's friend! (He goes to fire to warm himself and notices the candlesticks, He looks round to see if he is alone, and takes them down, weighing them.) Silver, by God, heavy. What a prize! [He hears the Bishop coming, and in his haste drops one candlestick on the table.] [Enter the Bishop]
Bishop: (sees what is going on, but goes to the settee up L. with coverings.) Ah, you are
admiring my candlesticks. I am proud of them. They were a gift from my mother.
A little too handsome for this poor cottage perhaps, but all I have to remind me of
her. Your bed is ready. Will you lie down now ?
Convict: Yes, yes, I'll lie down now. (puzzled) -Look here, why the devil are you kind to
me? (Suspiciously). What do you want? Eh?
Bishop: I want you to have a good sleep, my friend.
Convict: I believe you want to convert me; save my soul, don't you call it? Well, it's no
good-see? I don't want any damned religion, and as for the Church-bah! I hate
the Church.
Bishop: That is a pity, my son, as the Church does not hate you.
Convict: You are going to try to convert me. Oh! Ha! ha! That's a good idea. Ha ! ha ! ha! No, no, Monseigneur the Bishop: I don't want any of your Faith, Hope, and Charity --see? So anything you do for me you're doing to the devil-understand? (defiantly)

Bishop: One must do a great deal for the devil in order to do a little for God.
Convict: (angrily). I don't want any damned religion, I tell you.
Bishop: Won't you lie down now? It is late?
Convict: (grumbling). Well, alright, but I won't be preached at, I-I-(on couch). You're sure no one will come?
Bishop: I don't think they will; but if they do-you yourself have locked the door.
Convict: Humph! I wonder if it's safe. (He goes to the door and tries it, then turns and sees the Bishop holding the covering, annoyed) Here! you go to bed. I'll cover myself. (The Bishop hesitates.) Go on, I tell you.
Bishop: Good night, my son. [Exit L.]
[Convict waits till he is off, then tries the Bishop's door.]
Convict: No lock, of course. Curse it. (Looks round and sees the candlesticks again.) Humph! I'll have another look at them. (He takes them up and toys with them.) Worth hundreds, I'll warrant. If I had these turned into money, they'd start me fair. Humph! The old boy's fond of them too, said his mother gave him them. His mother, yes. They didn't think of my mother when they sent me to Hell. He was kind to me too-but what's a Bishop for except to be kind to you? Here, cheer up, my hearty, you're getting soft. God! Wouldn't my chain-mates laugh to see 15729 hesitating about collaring the plunder because he felt good. Good ! Ha ha! Oh, my God! Good! Ha! Ha! 15729 getting soft. That's a good one. Ha ! ha! No, I'll take his candlesticks and go. If I stay here he'll preach me in the morning and I'll get soft. Damn him and his preaching too. Here goes!
[He takes the candlesticks, stows them in his coat, and cautiously exits L.C. As he does so the door slams.]
Persome (without): Who's there ? Who's there, I say ? Am I to get no sleep to-night ? Who's there, I say ? (Enter R, Persome) I'm sure I heard the door shut. (Looking round.) No one here ? (Knocks at the Bishop's door L. Sees the candlesticks have gone.) The candlesticks, the candlesticks. They are gone. Brother, brother, come out. Fire, murder, thieves! [Enter Bishop L. ]
Bishop: What is it, dear, what is it ? What is the matter ?
Persome: He has gone. The man with the hungry eyes has gone, and he has taken your
candlesticks.

Bishop: Not my candlesticks, sister, surely not those. (He looks and sighs.) Ah, that is hard, very hard, I………I-He might have left me those. They were all I had (almost breaking down).
Persome: Well, but go and inform the police. He can't have gone far. They will soon catch him, and you'll get the candlesticks back again. You don't deserve them, though, leaving them about with a man like that in the house.
Bishop: You are right, Persome: It was my fault. I led him into temptation.
Persome: Oh, nonsense I led him into temptation indeed. The man is a thief, a common unscrupulous thief. I knew it the moment I saw him. Go and inform the police or I will.
[Going ; but he stops her.]
Bishop: And have him sent back to prison? (very softly) Sent back to Hell. No Persome: It is a just punishment for me; I set too great store by them. It was a sin. My punishment is just; but Oh God! it is hard, It is very hard. [He buries his head in his hands.]
Persome: No, brother, you are wrong. If you won't tell the police, I will. I will not stand by and see you robbed. I know you are my brother and my Bishop, and the best man in all France; but you are a fool, I tell you, a child, and I will not have your goodness abused, I shall go and inform the police (Going).
Bishop: Stop, Persome. The candlesticks were mine. They are his now. It is better so. He has more need of them than me. My mother would have wished it so, had she been here.
Persome: But-[Great knocking without.]
Sergeant (without). Monseigneur, Monseigneur, we have something for you. May we enter ?
Bishop: Enter, my son. [Enter Sergeant and three Gendarmes with Convict bound. The Sergeant
carries the candlesticks.]
Persome: Ah, so they have caught you, villain, have they ?
Sergeant: Yes, madam, we found this scoundrel slinking along the road, and as he wouldn't give any account of himself we arrested him on suspicion. Holy Virgin, isn't he strong and didn't he struggle! While we were securing him these candlesticks fell out of his pockets. (Persome seizes them, goes to table, and brushes them with her apron lovingly.) I remembered the candlesticks of
Monseigneur, the Bishop, so we brought him here that you might identity them, and then we'll lock him up. [The Bishop and the Convict have been looking at each other-the Convict with
dogged defiance.]
Bishop: But - but I don't understand, this gentleman is my very good friend.
Sergeant: Your friend, Monseigneur!! Holy Virgin ! Well!!!
Bishop: Yes, my friend. He did me the honour to sup with me to night, and I-I have given him the candlesticks.
Sergeant: (incredulously) You gave him-him your candlesticks ? Holy Virgin!
Bishop: (severely) Remember, my son, that she is holy.
Sergeant: (saluting) Pardon Monseigneur.
Bishop: And now I think you may let your prisoner go.
Sergeant: But he won't show me his papers. He won't tell me who he is.
Bishop: I have told you he is my friend.
Sergeant: Yes, that's all very well, but....
Bishop: He is your Bishop's friend, surely, that is enough!
Sergeant: Well, but....
Bishop: Surely?
[A pause. The Sergeant and the Bishop look at each other,]
Sergeant: I-I-Humph! (To his men) Loose the prisoner. (They do so). Right about turn, quick march!
[Exit Sergeant and Gendarmes. A long pause.]
Convict: (Very slowly, as if in a dream). You told them you had given me the candlesticks - given me... them. By God!
Persome: (Shaking her fist at him and hugging the candlesticks to her breast). Oh, you scoundrel, you pitiful scoundrel. You come here, and are fed and warmed, andand you thief.... you steal.... from your benefactor. Oh, you blackguard!
Bishop: Persome, you are overwrought. Go to your room.
Persome: What, and leave you with him to be cheated again, perhaps murdered ? No, I will not.
Bishop: (With slight severity). Persome, leave us. I wish it. [She looks hard at him, then
turns towards her door.]

Persome: Well, if I must go, at least I'll take the candlesticks with me.
Bishop: (More severely) Persome, place the candlesticks on that table and leave us.
Persome: (Defiantly). I will not!
Bishop: (Loudly and with great severity). I, your Bishop, commands it.
[Persome does so with great reluctance and exits R.]
Convict: (Shamefacedly) Monseigneur, I'm glad I didn't get away with them; curse me, I am, I'm glad.
Bishop: Now won't you sleep here ? See, your bed is ready.
Convict: No! (Looking at the candlesticks) No ! no! I daren't, I daren't. Besides, I must go on, I must get to Paris; it is big, and I-I can be lost there. They won't find me there. And I must travel at night. Do you understand ?
Bishop: I see-you must travel by night.
Convict: I-I-didn't believe there was any good in the world; one doesn't when one has been in Hell; but somehow I-I-know you're good, and-and it's a queer thing to ask, but-could you... would you.... bless me before I go ? I-I think it would help me. I.... [Hangs his head very shamefacedly.]
[Bishop makes the sign of the Cross and murmurs a blessing.]
Convict: (Tries to speak, but a sob almost chokes him). Good night. [He hurries towards the door.]
Bishop: Stay, my son, you have forgotten your property (giving him the candlesticks).
Convict: You mean me-you want me to take them ?
Bishop: Please.... they may help you. (The Convict takes the candlesticks in absolute amazement.) And, my son, there is a path through the woods at the back of this cottage which leads to Paris; it is a very lonely path and I have noticed that my good friends the gendarmes do not like lonely paths at night. It is curious.
Convict: Ah, thanks, thanks, Monseigneur. I-I-(He sobs.) Ah, I'm a fool, a child to cry, but somehow you have made me feel that.... that it is just as if something had come into me as if I were a man again and not a wild beast. [The door at back is open, and the Convict is standing in it.]
Bishop: (Putting his hand on his shoulder). Always remember, my son, that this poor body is the Temple of the Living God.
Convict: (With great awe). The Temple of the Living God. I'll remember.

About the Writer
Norman Mckinnel (1870-1932) was an actor and a dramatist, As a playwright he is
known for the play, 'The Bishop's Candlesticks' which is an adaptation of a section of
Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables". The play, which is very popular, is based on the
theme that love and kindness can change a man rather than violence. The play is
about a convict who breaks into the Bishop's house and is clothed and warmed. The
benevolence of the Bishop somewhat softens the convict, but, when he sees the
silver candlesticks, he steals them. He is captured and brought back. He expects to
go back to jail, but the Bishop informs the police they are a gift. The act of the Bishop
reforms the convict to a belief in the spirit of God that dwells in the heart of every
human being.


Reviewing verb forms


Now listen to two speakers debating on the topic, 'School Uniforms should be Banned'. The script is given at page no 177 to 180. two student can be designated for this task 

                                       NOTICE 
                           Class IX English Debate 
Motion : School Uniforms should be Banned
Time     : 2 mins (1 min for each speaker)
Venue   : School Auditorium

Did you notice the phrases used by debaters to emphasise/negate certain points? Given below are certain expressions that might be used by debaters. 

1. I'd like to raise a/the question/ argue ___ 
2. In my opinion ___
3. Nothing could be more illogical than ____
4. I feel very strongly that ___
5. I would like to draw attention to ___
6. I fail to understand ____
7. I thinkyou are being unreasonable in suggesting ___
8. I submit that ____
9. My first/ next/ final argument against/ in favour of ____
10. I support the motion that_____
11. My knowledgeable opponent has submitted that ____
12. May l ask ___ 
13. I strongly oppose/ support the view that ___
14. On the contrary ___
15. It is unrealistic to say that ____
16. I disagree ____
17. I firmly reject ____
18. I wholeheartedly oppose/ support____


Avik, a correspondent for his school magazine, interviews Grandmaster Koneru Bumpy. Let us read : 
            INTERVIEW WITH KONERU BUMPY 

Avik : Good morning, Ma'am! Congratulations on your achievements in the World Grand Prix Women's Chess Championship in Istanbul recently! 


Koneru Humpy : Thank you! This is my biggest win in the women's circuit. This is very significant, considering that it has come in an event which had three former world champions.
Avik : Indeed! Please tell us something about yourself, Ma' am! 
Koneru Humpy : I was born in Gudivada, near Vijaywada, in Andhra Pradesh on March 31, 1987. I was originally named 'Humpi' {which means champion) by my father Mr Koneru Ashok, who later changed the spelling to Humpy, to give the nrune a Russian flavour. I write my family name , Koneru, before my given name, as is the convention with the Telugu speaking people. I started playing chess when I was 5 years old. 
Avik : Who introduced you to the game? 
Koneru Humpy : My father acquainted me with the game. He is also my first coach. I first showed interest at the age of 6 years, when I watched him play a game and suggested a move. Indeed it was the move that actually got me into the game. 

Avik : Your father left his teaching profession to make you a champion !
Koneru Bumpy : Yes, when I took the 4th place in the Indian Under 8 Championship in 1995, he decided to leave his career and dedicate his time to me. 
Avik : And you had won four World Championship at a very early stage. 
Koneru Bumpy : Yes, the World Girl Under 10, the World Girls Under 12, the World Girls Under 14 and World Girls Junior Chrunpionships. I acquired my IM title in 1999 and in May 2002, I achieved my 3rd GM Norms in Elekes Memorial Grandmaster Tournrunent in Budapest. 
Avik : You held the record from 2002 to 2008 for the youngest woman ever to become a grandmaster! 
Koneru Bumpy : Yes, I achieved it at the age of 15 years, 1 month, 27 days, beating Judit Polgar's previous record by 3 months; which was later lost in the Women's World Chess Championship in 2008 to Hou Yifan. I won the World Junior Girls Chess Championship in 2001 and won the edition or North Urals Cup, the Women's Super Tournrunent held in Krasnoturinsk. In 2006, I participated in the Women's World Chess Chrunpionship, but my crunpaign had to end early in the second round. I played in the first board of Monte Carlo Chess Club and won the last two editions of the European Club Cup. 
Avik : You have got some awards also ! 
Koneru Humpy : Yes, Arjuna Award in 2003, Padmashri Award in 2007 and Raja-Lakshmi Award in 2008. 


Avik : In India, many young chess players are ready to take a break in education and are fully focussed on chess preparations. What are your views? 
Koneru Humpy : I don't think that taking up chess as a career and completely neglecting studies will be necessary at an earlier stage. After getting to a certain level in the game, they themselves should decide their preferences i.e. whether to play seriously or not. 
Avik : What advice would you offer to parents of enthusiastic and talented chess children? 
Koneru Humpy : Parents should not compel children to play chess. If children are genuinely interested in the game, they should encourage them. But they shouldn't hurry to get results. 


Avik : How often do you exercise? Do you think daily physical exercise can help a chess player to cope with the pressure and increase the brain's ability to concentrate? 


Koneru Humpy : I spend around one hour per day on physical exercise. Exercise is a must for every chess player. As the proverb says, 'a sound mind in a sound body'. Exercise shows a lot of impact on the brain. 
Avik : Thank you for talking to me and giving valuable advice. 
Koneru Humpy : Thank you. 


The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight.
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group
Did nought except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

Their logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without
They died from the cold within.

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

Analyse the title and whether it is appropriate.


The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight.
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group
Did nought except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

Their logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without
They died from the cold within.

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

Who are ‘they’ referred to here ? Where were they ?


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:

What fulfills the life of an Indian wife and mother?


Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink....
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK - HE ONLY SEES!

Read the lines given above and answer the question given below.

How are televisions helpful to parents?


'All right!' you 'll cry.'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children?Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!

Read the lines given above and answer the question given below.

Explain with reference to context.


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."

Read the lines given above and answer the following question.

What did Abou Adhem ask the angel?


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.

Why did the old man leave his hometown? Why did he leave it reluctantly?


“There were three animals altogether,” he explained. “There were two goats and a cat and then there were four pairs of pigeons.”
“And you had to leave them?” I asked.
“Yes. Because of the artillery. The captain told me to go because of the artillery.” “And you have no family?” I asked, watching the far end of the bridge where a few last carts were hurrying down the slope of the bank.
“No,” he said, “only the animals I stated. The cat, of course, will be all right. A cat can look out for itself, but I cannot think what will become of the others.”
“What politics have you?” I asked.
“I am without politics,” he said. “I am seventy-six years old. I have come twelve kilometers now and I think now I can go no further.”
“This is not a good place to stop,” I said. “If you can make it, there are trucks up the road where it forks for Tortosa.”
“I will wait a while,” he said, “ and then I will go. Where do the trucks go?” “Towards Barcelona,” I told him.
“I know no one in that direction,” he said, “but thank you very much.

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

Where did the narrator want the old man to go?


The village consisted of less than thirty houses, only one of them built with brick and cement. Painted a brilliant yellow and blue all over with gorgeous carvings of gods and gargoyles on its balustrade, it was known as the Big House. The other houses, distributed in four streets, were generally of bamboo thatch, straw, mud, and other unspecified material. Muni’s was the last house in the fourth street, beyond which stretched the fields. In his prosperous days Muni had owned a flock of forty sheep and goats and sallied forth every morning driving the flock to the highway a couple of miles away.

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

What did Muni feed his flock with? When did he come back home? What did he carry home?


 

The boy looked up. He took his hands from his face and looked up at his teacher. The light from Mr. Oliver’s torch fell on the boy’s face, if you could call it a face. He had no eyes, ears, nose or mouth. It was just a round smooth head with a school cap on top of it.

And that’s where the story should end, as indeed it has for several people who have had similar experiences and dropped dead of inexplicable heart attacks. But for Mr. Oliver, it did not end there. The torch fell from his trembling hand. He turned and scrambled down the path, running blindly through the trees and calling for help. He was still running towards the school buildings when he saw a lantern swinging in the middle of the path. Mr. Oliver had never before been so pleased to see the night watchman. He stumbled up to the watchman, gasping for breath and speaking incoherently.

What is it, Sahib? Asked the watchman, has there been an accident? Why are you running?

I saw something, something horrible, a boy weeping in the forest and he had no face.
No face, Sahib?
No eyes, no nose, mouth, nothing.
Do you mean it was like this, Sahib? asked the watchman, and raised the lamp to his own face. The watchman had no eyes, no ears, no features at all, not even an eyebrow. The wind blew the lamp out and Mr. Oliver had his heart attack.

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

What was Mr Oliver’s reaction when he saw the faceless boy? Whom did he stumble into?


Mr. Oliver, an Anglo-Indian teacher, was returning to his school late one night on the outskirts of the hill station of Shimla. The school was conducted on English public school lines and the boys – most of them from well-to-do Indian families – wore blazers, caps and ties. “Life” magazine, in a feature on India, had once called this school the Eton of the East.

Mr. Oliver had been teaching in this school for several years. He’s no longer there. The Shimla Bazaar, with its cinemas and restaurants, was about two miles from the school; and Mr. Oliver, a bachelor, usually strolled into the town in the evening returning after dark, when he would take short cut through a pine forest.

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

When did Mr Oliver return from the town?


This woman had been despised, scoffed at, and angrily denounced by nearly every man, woman, and child in the village; but now, as the fact of, her death was passed from lip to lip, in subdued tones, pity took the place of anger, and sorrow of denunciation.

Neighbours went hastily to the old tumble-down hut, in which she had secured little more than a place of shelter from summer heats and winter cold: some with grave-clothes for a decent interment of the body; and some with food for the half-starving children, three in number. Of these, John, the oldest, a boy of twelve, was a stout lad, able to earn his living with any farmer. Kate, between ten and eleven, was bright, active girl, out of whom something clever might be made, if in good hands; but poor little Maggie, the youngest, was hopelessly diseased. Two years before a fall from a window had injured her spine, and she had not been able to leave her bed since, except when lifted in the arms of her mother.

“What is to be done with the children?” That was the chief question now. The dead mother would go underground, and be forever beyond all care or concern of the villagers. But the children must not be left to starve.

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

Why was the dead woman despised and hated by all the people of the village?


 

After considering the matter, and talking it over with his wife, farmer Jones said that he would take John, and do well by him, now that his mother was out of the way; and Mrs. Ellis, who had been looking out for a bound girl, concluded that it would be charitable in her to make choice of Katy, even though she was too young to be of much use for several years.

“I could do much better, I know,” said Mrs. Ellis; “but as no one seems inclined to take her, I must act from a sense of duty expect to have trouble with the child; for she’s an undisciplined thing—used to having her own way.”

But no one said “I’ll take Maggie.” Pitying glances were cast on her wan and wasted form and thoughts were troubled on her account. Mothers brought cast-off garments and, removing her soiled and ragged clothes, dressed her in clean attire. The sad eyes and patient face of the little one touched many hearts, and even knocked at them for entrance. But none opened to take her in. Who wanted a bed-ridden child?

“Take her to the poorhouse,” said a rough man, of whom the question “What’s to be done with Maggie?” was asked. “Nobody’s going to be bothered with her.”

“The poorhouse is a sad place for a sick and helpless child,” answered one.
“For your child or mine,” said the other, lightly speaking; “but for tis brat it will prove a blessed change, she will be kept clean, have healthy food, and be doctored, which is more than can be said of her past condition.”

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

Who came to mourn the dead woman? Why did no one follow the dead cart?


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 changed her ? Describe the change in her.


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.

What did she see when she lighted another match?


From the day, perhaps a hundred years ago when he sun had hatched him in a sandbank, and he had broken his shell, and got his head out and looked around, ready to snap at anything, before he was even fully hatched-from that day, when he had at once made for the water, ready to fend for himself immediately, he had lived by his brainless craft and ferocity. Escaping the birds of prey and the great carnivorous fishes that eat baby crocodiles, he has prospered, catching all the food he needed, and storing it till putrid in holes in the bank. Tepid water to live in and plenty of rotted food grew him to his great length. Now nothing could pierce the inch-?thick armoured hide. Not even rifle bullets,

which would bounce off. Only the eyes and the soft underarms offered a place. He lived well in the river, sunning himself sometimes with other crocodiles-muggers, as well as the long-? snouted fish-?eating gharials-on warm rocks and sandbanks where the sun dried the clay on them quite white, and where they could plop off into the water in a moment if alarmed. The big crocodile fed mostly on fish, but also on deer and monkeys come to drink, perhaps a duck or two.

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

How did he survive as a baby crocodile from the day he was hatched.


From the day, perhaps a hundred years ago when he sun had hatched him in a sandbank, and he had broken his shell, and got his head out and looked around, ready to snap at anything, before he was even fully hatched-from that day, when he had at once made for the water, ready to fend for himself immediately, he had lived by his brainless craft and ferocity. Escaping the birds of prey and the great carnivorous fishes that eat baby crocodiles, he has prospered, catching all the food he needed, and storing it till putrid in holes in the bank. Tepid water to live in and plenty of rotted food grew him to his great length. Now nothing could pierce the inch-?thick armoured hide. Not even rifle bullets,

which would bounce off. Only the eyes and the soft underarms offered a place. He lived well in the river, sunning himself sometimes with other crocodiles-muggers, as well as the long-? snouted fish-?eating gharials-on warm rocks and sandbanks where the sun dried the clay on them quite white, and where they could plop off into the water in a moment if alarmed. The big crocodile fed mostly on fish, but also on deer and monkeys come to drink, perhaps a duck or two.

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

What helped him grow to his present size?


I was in for a surprise. When the time came for the broad-jump trials, I was startled to see a tall boy hitting the pit at almost 26 feet on his practice leaps! He turned out to be a German named Luz Long. 1 was told that Hitler hoped to win the jump with him. I guessed that if Long won, it would add some new support to the Nazis’ “master race” (Aryan superiority) theory. After all, I am a Negro. Angr about Hitler’s ways, 1 determined to go out there and really show Der Fuhrer and his master race who was superior and who wasn’t. An angry athlete is an athlete who will make mistakes, as any coach will tell you. I was no exception. On the first of my three qualifying jumps, I leaped from several inches beyond the takeoff board for a foul. On the second jump, I fouled even worse. “Did I come 3,000 miles for this?” I thought bitterly. “To foul out of the trials and make a fool of myself ?” Walking a few yards from the pit, 1 kicked disgustedly at the dirt.

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

I supposed that if Long won, it would add some new support to the Nazis’ Aryan- superiority theory. What did Jesse Owens want to show to Hitler?


Given below are four words and phrases. Find the words which have a similar meaning in the passage:
(1) Coming near 
( 2 ) Disappeared suddenly
(3) Awakening from sleep
(4) Moved slowly and gradually


I could hear the squeaking that heralded the evening arrival of the bats. I listened to the noises of the approaching night. Every day my hearing grew sharper. I was learning to filter out whatever I did not need to listen to, and giving no sign that I could hear everything that went on in the house.

I could not sleep. The air was heavy and still, the moon hidden behind thick banks of cloud. Lord Otori was sound asleep. I did not want to leave the house I'd come to love so much, but I seemed to be bringing nothing but trouble to it. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if I just vanished in the night.    [5]

 
Now I heard the hiss of hot water as the bath was prepared, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, the sliding sigh of the cook's knife, a dog barking two streets away, and the sounds of feet on the wooden bridges on the canals. I knew the sounds of the house, day and night, in the sunshine and under the rain. This evening I realized I was always listening for something more. I was waiting too. For what?        [10]


I began to wonder if I could get out of the house without setting the dogs barking and arousing the guards. I started consciously listening to the dogs. Usually, I heard them bark on and off throughout the night, but I'd learned to distinguish their barks and to ignore them. I set my ears for them but heard nothing. Then I started listening for the guards: the sound of a foot on stone or a whispered conversation. Nothing. Sounds that should have been there been missing from the night's familiar web.        [20]


Now I was wide-awake, straining my ears to hear. There came the slightest of sounds, hardly more than a tremor, between the window and the ground.    


For a moment I thought it was the earth-shaking, as it so often did. Another tiny tremble followed, then another. Someone was climbing up the side of the house        [25]


My first instinct was to yell out, but cunning took over. I rose from the mattress and crept silently to Lord Otori's side. I knelt beside him and whispered in his ear, "Lord Otori, someone is, outside."      [30]


He woke instantly and then reached for the sword and knife that lay beside him. I gestured to the window. The faint tremor came again.


Lord Otori passed the knife to me and stepped to the wall. I moved to the other side of the window. We waited for the assassin to climb in.


Step by step he came up the wall, stealthy and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world. We waited for him with the same patience.    [35]

He paused on the sill to take out the knife he planned to use on us and then stepped inside. Lord Otori took him in a stranglehold. The intruder wriggled backwards. I leaped at him, and the three of us fell into the garden like a flurry of fighting cats.  [40]


The man fell first, across the stream, striking his head on a boulder. Lord Otori landed on his feet. My fall was broken by one of the shrubs. The intruder groaned, tried to rise, but slipped back into the water.


"Get a light," Lord Otori said.


I ran to the house, took a light that still burned in one of the candle stands and carried it back to the garden.    [45]


The assassin had died without regaining consciousness. It turned out he had a poison pellet in his mouth and had crushed it as he tell. He was dressed in black, with no marking on his clothes. I held the light over him. There was nothing to tell us who he was.    [50]

 

(i) Given below are four words and phrases. Find the words which have a similar meaning in the passage:
(1) Coming near 
( 2 ) Disappeared suddenly
(3) Awakening from sleep
(4) Moved slowly and gradually 

(ii) 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:
(1) Bats ( line 1 )
( 2 ) Sign ( line 4 )
( 3 ) Banks (  line 6 )
( 4 )  Back ( line 43 )


Read the following passage carefully and answer the questions that follow:
Richard Parker was so named because of a clerical error.
A panther was terrorizing the Khulna district of Bangladesh, just outside the Sundarbans. It had recently carried off a little girl. She was the seventh person killed in two months by the animal. And it was growing bolder. The previous victim was a man who had been attacked in broad daylight in his field. The beast dragged him off into the forest, and his corpse was later found hanging from a tree. The villagers kept a watch nearby that night, hoping to surprise the panther and kill it, but it never appeared.
The Forest Department hired a professional hunter. He set up a small, hidden platform in a free near a river where two of the attacks had taken place. A goat was tied to a stake on the river’s bank. The hunter waited several nights. He assumed the panther would be an old, wasted male with worn teeth, incapable of catching anything more difficult than a human. But it was a sleek tiger that stepped into the open one night: a female with a single cub. The goat bleated. Oddly, the cub, who looked to be about three months old, paid little attention to the goat. It raced to the water’s edge, where it drank eagerly. Its mother followed it. Of hunger and thirst, thirst is the greater urge. Only once the tiger had quenched her thirst did she turn to the goat to satisfy her hunger.
The hunter had two rifles with him: one with real bullets, the other with immobilizing darts. This animal was not the man-eater, but so close to human habitation she might pose a threat to the villagers, especially as she was with cub. He picked up the gun with the darts. He fired as the tiger was about to attack the goat. The tiger reared up and snarled and raced away. But immobilizing darts don’t bring on sleep gently—they knock the creature out without warning. A burst of activity on the animal’s part makes it act all the faster. The hunter called his assistants on the radio. They found the tiger about two hundred yards from the river. She was still conscious. Her back legs had given way and her balance on her front legs was shaky. When the men got close, she tried to get away but could not manage it. She turned on them, lifting a paw that was meant to kill. It only made her lose her balance. She collapsed and the Pondicherry Zoo had two new tigers. The cub was found in a bush close by, meowing with fear.
The hunter, whose name was Richard Parker, picked it up with his bare hands and, remembering how it had rushed to drink in the river, named it Thirsty. But the shipping clerk at the Howrah train station was evidently a man both confused and diligent. All the papers received with the cub clearly stated that its name was Richard Parker, that the hunter’s first name was Thirsty add that his family name was None Given. Richard Parker’s name stuck. I don’t know if the hunter was ever called Thirsty None Given!

(a) Give the meaning of each of the following words as used in the passage.
One word answers ob short phrases will be accepted.

  1. corpse (line 6)
  2. quenched (line 16)
  3. reared (line 20)

(b) Answer the following questions briefly in your own words.

  1. Why does the author say that the panther ‘was getting bolder’? 
  2. Why did the Forest Department hire a professional hunter? 
  3. What did the hunter expect to encounter? What did he actually encounter? 
  4. What did the tiger do before turning to attack the goat? Why did it do that? 
  5. Why did the hunter decide to shoot the tiger though he knew it was not the man-eater?
  6. What name did the hunter give to the cub? Why? 

(c)

(i) In not more than 60 words narrrate how the hunter and his assistants captured the tiger and her cub. 
(ii) Give a suitable title to your summary in 3(c). Give a reason to justify your choice. 


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

There’s nobody on the house-tops now …..
Just a palsied few at the windows set;
For the best of the sight is, all allow,
At the Shambles’ Gate …… or, better yet,
By the very scaffold’s foot, I trow.
–  The Patriot, Robert Browning

(i) Who is the speaker? Where is he being taken? Why? 

(ii) Describe the scene when he had walked down the same street a year ago. 

(iii) Where does the speaker think all the people had gathered that day? Why does he think so? 

(iv) Describe the speaker's physical condition.

(v) What is the central message of the poem? Does the poem and on a note of hope or despair? Give one reason for your answer.


The story of an ant’s life sounds almost untrue.

The underlined phrase means


Grandmother’s prophecy was that the tiger

Mark the right answer.


On getting Gopu Mama’s chappals, the music teacher tried not to look too happy. Why?


Answer the following question

How did Gopal get inside the palace to see the king after he had bought the fish?


We should not give up in any situation. If we try hard we can definitely find a solution. Why do you think so?


CK Nayudu name is recorded in the history of cricket. What are. the reasons that make him a legend?


When did “the unfriendly face” of the visitor turn truly friendly?


Who were the two last-minute shoppers to Ray’s shop?


How did Ray tackle the evil-minded shoppers?


Sketch the character of Ray in about 80 words. What qualities of Ray do you admire most?


How did the old clock give a timeless message through Ray?


How did the jealous courtiers of Akbar plan to ruin Tansen?


Why has sleep been called a wonder?


Do you agree that it is difficult not to go along with someone who is very strong and powerful? Express your views frankly and clearly.


“Trees are for apples to grow on, or pears.” Do you agree that one purpose of a tree is to have fruit on it? Or do you think this line is humorous?


Was he successful in saving the cat the second time?


Read the newspaper report to find the following facts about Columbia’s ill-fated voyage.

Number of experiments done by scientists: ____________


Match the following.

1.

unprecedented space tragedy

  • something that causes feelings of respect and wonder

2.

certified flight instructor

  • having knowledge of a wide variety of subjects

3.

space mission

  • nowadays, in these times

4.

super specialisation

  • a set of jobs to be done in space by a group

5.

encyclopaedic knowledge

  • a person with the correct qualification to teach people to fly planes

6.

awe-inspiring

  • a sad accident of a kind that has never happened before in space

7.

in this age

  • great expertise in a limited field or a particular subject


Describe the appearance of Miss Beam.


Multiple Choice Question:
What are the people always eager to hear?


Replace the italicised portion of the sentence below with a suitable phrase from the box. Make necessary changes, wherever required.
I was in a difficult situation till my friends came to my rescue.


What activities are dear to little children? Who does the child envy and why in the poem Vocation?


What trick did the shopkeeper play to tempt his customers to play the los­ing game?


What decides the choices made by the rebel?


Write ‘True’ or ‘False’ against each of the following sentences.

Gopal was a clever man. ________


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

Iris: Of her society
Be not afraid. I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
Dove-drawn with her.

Whom does Iris refer to as ‘her’?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

Iris: Of her society
Be not afraid. I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
Dove-drawn with her.

Why was the person addressed afraid of “her”?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

Iris: Of her society
Be not afraid. I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
Dove-drawn with her.

What is meant by “dove drawn”?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

“But my darling, if you love me,” thought Miss Meadows, “I don’t
Mind how much it is. Love me as little as you like.”

What had the “darling” informed Miss Meadows?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

“But my darling, if you love me,” thought Miss Meadows, “I don’t
Mind how much it is. Love me as little as you like.”

Where was Miss Meadows as she thought these thoughts?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

“But my darling, if you love me,” thought Miss Meadows, “I don’t
Mind how much it is. Love me as little as you like.”

What was the effect of Basil’s letter on Miss Meadows?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agean…

Who is Sophocles?


Read the lines given below and answer the following question:

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agean…

What did he hear on the Agean?


Answer the following question.

Who advised Golu to go to the Limpopo River?


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]


In the Masque in Act IV of the play The Tempest, how does Ceres know that Juno is coming?


What does Cares say to bless the young couple?


Where did B. Wordsworth live in the short story, B. Wordsworth?


In the short story, The Story of an Hour, what according to the doctor did Mrs. Mallard die of?


In the poem, Dover Beach, where is the "eternal note of sadness" heard? 


In the poem, Birches, how are the crystal shells shed?


Complete the following sentence by providing a reason:

In Act III, Scene II of the play, The Tempest, Stephano threatens to tie Trinculo to the next tree because ______.


Complete the following sentence by providing a reason:
In the short story, To Build a Fire, the fire built by the man under the tree was extinguished because ______.


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