Vocabulary+Lessons+7+-+9

=Lesson 7 - __The Incredible Journey__=

The trio journeyed on, the pattern of the next few days being very much the same, free of incident or excitement. Leaving their resting place at day light, they would jog steadily along by day, their pace determined mainly by the endurance of the old dog. Their favorite sleeping places were hollows under uprooted trees where they were sheltered from the wind, and able to burrow down among the drifted leaves for warmth. At first there were frequent halts and rests, but daily the terrier became stronger, after a week he was lean, but the scars on his shoulders were healing, and his coat was smooth and healthy: in fact, he was in better condition and looked younger and fitter than at the outset of the journey. He had always had a happy disposition, and most of the time looked perfectly content, trotting along the vast stillness of the bush with stolid, unalterable good humor. He was almost always hungry, bu that skillful hunter the cat kept him provided with food which, while scarcely ever satisfying, was adequate for his new standard of living.

It was only the famished young doe who really suffered, for he was not a natural hunter, and wasted a lot of ill-afforded energy in pursuit. He lived mainly on frogs, mice, and the occasional leavings of the other two; sometimes he was lucky enough to frighten some small animal away from its prey, but it was a very inadequate diet for such a large and heavily built dog, and his ribs were beginning to show through the shining coat. He was unable to relax, his constant hunger driving him to forage even when the other two were resting; and he never joined in their amiable foolery, when sometimes the cat would skitter away in pretended fear from the growling, wagging white dog, often ending in being chased up a tree. Then the Labrador would sit apart, aloof and watchful, nervous and tense. It seemed as though he were never able to forget his ultimate purpose and goal - he was going home; home to his own master, home where he belonged, and nothing else mattered.

adequate aloof burrow endurance famished forage incident outset skitter stolid
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=Lesson 8 - __Paul Revere's Ride__=

Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night,  Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch  Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--  One if by land, and two if by sea;  And I on the opposite shore will be,  Ready to ride and spread the alarm  Through every Middlesex village and farm,  For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Wanders and watches, with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead. . ..

// And startled the pigeons from their perch // // On the sombre rafters, that round him made // // Masses and moving shapes of shade,-- // // By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, // // To the highest window in the wall, // // Where he paused to listen and look down // // A moment on the roofs of the town // // And the moonlight flowing over all. // //Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,// // In their night encampment on the hill, // // Wrapped in silence so deep and still // // That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, // // The watchful night-wind, as it went // // Creeping along from tent to tent, // // And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" // // A moment only he feels the spell // // Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread // // Of the lonely belfry and the dead; // // For suddenly all his thoughts are bent // // On a shadowy something far away, // // Where the river widens to meet the bay,-- // // A line of black that bends and floats // // On the rising tide like a bridge of boats. //

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now he gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns.

aloft belfry hulk linger magnify measured mooring muster spectral tread
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Read the entire poem here!

=Lesson 9 - __Anne of Green Gables__=

Gilbert Blythe wasn’t used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure. She should look at him, that redhaired Shirley girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren’t like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea school.

Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne’s long red braid, held it out at arm’s length and said in a piercing whisper, “Carrots! Carrots!”

Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance! She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears. "You mean, hateful boy!" she exclaimed passionately. "How dare you!"

And then--thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert's head and cracked it--slate not head--clear across. Avonlea school always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable one. Everybody said "Oh" in horrified delight. Diana gasped. Ruby Gillis, who was inclined to be hysterical, began to cry. Tommy Sloane let his team of crickets escape him altogether while he stared open-mouthed at the tableau.

Mr. Phillips stalked down the aisle and laid his hand heavily on Anne's shoulder. "Anne Shirley, what does this mean?" he said angrily. Anne returned no answer. It was asking too much of flesh and blood to expect her to tell before the whole school that she had been called "carrots." Gilbert it was who spoke up stoutly.

"It was my fault Mr. Phillips. I teased her."

Mr. Phillips paid no heed to Gilbert.

"I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit," he said in a solemn tone, as if the mere fact of being a pupil of his ought to root out all evil passions from the hearts of small imperfect mortals. "Anne, go and stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the afternoon." Anne would have infinitely preferred a whipping to this punishment under which her sensitive spirit quivered as from a whiplash. With a white, set face she obeyed.

fancy hysterical mortal passionate piercing quench sensitive solemn vindictive stalk
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Read the rest of the story here!