It is complete. Book I was BEC member at the time, and I memorized New Concept English by L.G. Alexander (not All). at BEC we. File could not be played. 1 01 Lesson - 2 01 Lesson - 3 01 Lesson - 4 01 Lesson - 5 01 Lesson Complete Advanced Student's Book with Answers with CD-ROM editie is een boek van Guy Brook-Hart uitgegeven bij Cambridge University Press.
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They never become submissive like dogs and horses. As a result, humans have learned to respect feline independence. Most cats remain suspicious of humans all their lives. One of the things that fascinates Corrected by MS Word: Apparently, there is a good deal of truth in this idea. A cat's ability to survive falls is based on fact. All these cats had one experience in common: Of course, New York is the ideal place for such an interesting study, because there is no shortage of tall buildings.
There are plenty of high-rise windowsills to fall from! It seems that the further cats fall, the less they are likely to injure themselves. In a long drop, they reach speeds of 60 miles an hour and more. At high speeds, falling cats have time to relax. They stretch out their legs like flying squirrels. This increases their air-resistance and reduces the shock of impact when they hit the ground.
She was carrying 1, passengers and crew of Even by modern standards, the 46, ton Titanic was a colossal ship. At the time, however, she was not only the largest ship that had ever been built, but was regarded as unsinkable, for she had sixteen watertight compartments.
Even if two of these were flooded, she would still be able to float. The tragic sinking of this great liner will always be remembered, for she went down on her first voyage with heavy loss of life.
Four days after setting out, while the Titanic was sailing across the icy water of the North Atlantic, huge iceberg was suddenly spotted by a lookout. After the alarm had been given, the great ship turned sharply to avoid a direct collision. The Titanic turned just in time, narrowly missing the immense walk of ice which rose over feet out of the water beside her. Suddenly, there was a slight trembling sound from below, and the captain went down to see what had happened.
The noise had been so faint that no one though that the ship had been damaged. Below, the captain realized to his horror that the Titanic was sinking rapidly, for five of her sixteen watertight compartments had already been flooded! The order to abandon ship was given and hundreds of people plunged into the icy water. As there were not enough lifeboats for everybody, 1, lives were lost.
Not guilty Customs Officers are quite tolerant these days, but they can still stop you when you are going through the Green Channel and have nothing to declare.
Even really honest people are often made to feel guilty. The hardened professional smuggler, on the other hand, is never troubled by such feelings, even if he has five hundred gold watches hidden in his suitcase. When I returned form abroad recently, a particularly officious young Customs Officer clearly regarded me as a smuggler.
The Officer went through the case with great care. All the thing I had packed so carefully were soon in a dreadful mess. I felt sure I would never be able to close the case again. Suddenly, I saw the Officer's face light up.
He had spotted a tiny bottle at the bottom of my case and he pounced on it with delight. Perfume is not exempt from import duty.
The officer unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to his nostrils. He was greeted by an unpleasant smell which convinced him that I was telling the truth. A few minutes later, I was able to hurry away with precious chalk marks on my baggage.
Most of us have formed an unrealistic picture of life on a desert island. We sometimes imagine a desert island to be a sort of paradise where the sun always shines. Life there is simple and good. Ripe fruit falls from the trees and you never have to work.
The other side of the picture is quite the opposite. Life on a desert island is wretched. You either starve to death or live like Robinson Crusoe, Waiting for a boat which never comes. Perhaps there is an element of truth in both these pictures, but few us have had the opportunity to find out.
Two men who recently spent five days on a coral island wished they had stayed there longer. They were taking a badly damaged boat from the Virgin Islands to Miami to have it repaired.
During the journey, their boat began to sink. They quickly loaded a small rubber dinghy with food, matches, and cans of beer and rowed for a few miles across the Caribbean until they arrived at a tiny coral island.
There were hardly any trees on the island and there was no water, but this did not prove to be a problem. The men collected rainwater in the rubber dinghy. As they had brought a spear gun with them, they had plenty to eat. When a passing tanker rescued them five days later, both men were genuinely sorry that they had to leave. After her husband had gone to work, Mrs. Richards sent her children to school and went upstairs to her bedroom. She was too excited to do any housework that morning, for in the evening she would be going to a fancy-dress part with her husband.
She intended to dress up as a ghost and as she had made her costume the night before, she was impatient to try it on. Though the costume consisted only of a sheet, it was very effective. After putting it on, Mrs. Richards went downstairs. She wanted to find out whether it would be comfortable to wear. Just as Mrs. Richards was entering the dinning room, there was a knock on the front door. She knew that it must be the baker.
She had told him to come straight in if ever she failed to open the door and to leave the bread on the kitchen table. Not wanting to frighten the poor man, Mrs. Richards quickly hid in the small storeroom under the stairs.
She heard the front door open and heavy footsteps in the hall.
Suddenly the door of the storeroom was opened and a man entered. Richards realized that it must be the man from the Electricity Board who had come to read the metre. She tried to explain the situation, saying 'It's only me', but it was too late.
The man let out cry and jumped back several paces. When Mrs. Richards walked towards him, he fled, slamming the door behind him. There was a tine when the owners of shops and businesses in Chicago that to pay large sums of money to gangsters in return for 'protection. Obtaining 'protection money' is not a modern crime.
As long ago as the fourteenth century, an Englishman, Sir John Hawkwood, made the remarkable discovery that people would rather pay large sums of money than have their life work destroyed by gangsters. Six hundred years ago, Sir Johan Hawkwood arrived in Italy with a band of soldiers and settled near Florence. He soon made a name for himself and came to be known to the Italians as Giovanni Acuto. Whenever the Italian city-states were at war with each other, Hawkwood used to hire his soldiers to princes who were willing to pay the high price he demanded.
In times of peace, when business was bad, Hawkwood and his men would march into a city-state and, after burning down a few farms, would offer to go away protection money was paid to them. Hawkwood made large sums of money in this way. In spite of this, the Italians regarded him as a sort of hero. When he died at the age of eighty, the Florentines gave him a state funeral and had a pictured with as dedicated to the memory of 'the most valiant soldier and most notable leader, Signor Giovanni Haukodue.
Children always appreciate small gifts of money. Mum or dads, of course, provide a regular supply of pocket money, but uncles and ants are always a source of extra income. With some children, small sums go a long way.
If fifty pence pieces are not exchanged for sweets, they rattle for months inside money boxes. Only very thrifty children manage to fill up a money box. For most of them, fifty pence is a small price to pay for a nice big bar of chocolate. My nephew, George, has a money box but it is always empty. Very few of the fifty pence pieces and pound coins I have given him have found their way there.
I gave him fifty pence yesterday and advised him to save it. Instead he bought himself fifty pence worth of trouble. On his way to the sweet shop, he dropped his fifty pence and it bounced along the pavement and then disappeared down a drain. George took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and pushed is right arm through the drain cover. He could not find his fifty pence piece anywhere, and what is more, he could no get his arm out.
A crowd of people gathered round him and a lady rubbed his arm with soap and butter, but George was firmly stuck. The fire brigade was called and two fire fighters freed George using a special type of grease. George was not too upset by his experience because the lady who owns the sweet shop heard about his troubles and rewarded him with large box of chocolates. Why not? Mary and her husband Dimitri lived in the tiny village of Perachora in southern Greece.
One of Mary's prize possessions was a little white lamb which her husband had given her. She kept it tied to a tree in a field during the day and went to fetch it every evening. One evening, however, the lamb was missing. The rope had been cut, so it was obvious that the lamb had been stolen. When Dimitri came in from the fields, his wife told him what had happened. Dimitri at once set out to find the thief. He knew it would not prove difficult in such a small village. After telling several of his friends about the theft, Dimitri found out that his neighbour, Aleko, had suddenly acquired a new lamb.
Dimitri immediately went to Aleko's house and angrily accused him of stealing the lamb. He told him he had better return it or he would call the police.
Aleko denied taking it and led Dimitri into his backyard. It was true that he had just bought a lamb, he explained, but his lamb was black. Ashamed of having acted so rashly, Dimitri apologized to Aleko for having accused him. While they were talking it began to rain and Dimitri stayed in Aleko's house until the rain stopped.
When he went outside half an hour later, he was astonished to find the little black lamb was almost white. Its wool, which had been dyed black, had been washed clean by the rain! The longest suspension Verrazano, an Italian about whom little is known, sailed into New York Harbour in and named it Angouleme. He described it as 'a very agreeable situation located within two small hills in the midst of which flowed a great river. It has a span of 4, feet.
The bridge is so long that the shape of the earth had to be taken into account by its designer. Two great towers support four huge cables.
The towers are built on immense underwater platforms make of steel and concrete. The platforms extend to a depth of over feet under the sea. These alone took sixteen months to build. Above the surface of the water, the towers rise to a height of nearly feet.
They support the cables from which the bridge has been suspended. Each of the four cables contains 26, lengths of wire. It has been estimated that if the bridge were packed with cars, it would still only be carrying a third of its total capacity.
However, size and strength are not the only important things about this bridge. Despite its immensity, it is both simple and elegant, fulfilling its designer's dream to create 'an enormous object drawn as faintly as possible'. Modern sculpture rarely surprises us any more.
The idea that modern art can only be seen in museums is mistaken. Even people who take no interest in art cannot have failed to notice examples of modern sculpture on display in public places. Strange forms stand in gardens, and outside buildings and shops. We have got quite used to them. Some so-called 'modern' pieces have been on display for nearly eighty years. In spite of this, some people -- including myself -- were surprise by a recent exhibition of modern sculpture.
The first thing I saw when I entered the art gallery was a notice which said: Some of them are dangerous! Oddly shaped forms that are suspended form the ceiling and move in response to a gust of wind are quite familiar to everybody. These objects, however, were different. Lined up against the wall, there were long thin wires attached to metal spheres. The spheres had been magnetized and attracted or repelled each other all the time. In the centre of the hall, there were a number of tall structures which contained coloured lights.
These lights flickered continuously like traffic lights which have gone mad. Sparks were emitted from small black boxes and red lamps flashed on and off angrily. It was rather like an exhibition of prehistoric electronic equipment. These peculiar forms not only seemed designed to shock people emotionally, but to give them electric shocks as well!
Kidnappers are rarely interested in animals, but they recently took considerable interest in Mrs. Eleanor Ramsay's cat. Eleanor Ramsay, a very wealthy old lady, has shared a flat with her cat, Rastus, for a great many years.
Rastus leads an orderly life. He usually takes a short walk in the evenings and is always home by seven o'clock. One evening, however, he failed to arrive. Ramsay got very worried. She looked everywhere for him but could not find him. There days after Rastus' disappearance, Mrs. Ramsay received an anonymous letter. The writer stated that Rastus was in safe hands and would be returned immediately if Mrs.
Ramsay was instructed to place the money in a cardboard box and to leave it outside her door. At first she decided to go to the police, but fearing that she would never see Rastus again -- the letter had made that quite clear -- she changed her mind. The next morning, the box had disappeared but Mrs. Ramsay was sure that the kidnapper would keep his word. Sure enough, Rastus arrived punctually at seven o'clock that evening. He looked very well though he was rather thirsty, for he drank half a bottle of milk.
The police were astounded when Mrs. Ramsay told them what she had done. She explained that Rastus was very dear to her. Considering the amount she paid, he was dear in more ways than one! Over a year passed before the first attempt was made. The 'Antoinette' floated on the water until Latham was picked up by a ship. Two days later, Louis Bleriot arrived near Calais with a plane called 'No.
Bleriot had been making planes since and this was his lattes model. A week before, he had completed a successful overland flight during which he covered twenty-six miles.
Latham, however, did not give up easily. It looked as if there would be an exciting race across the Channel. Both planes were going to take off on July 25th, but Latham failed to get up early enough, After making a short test flight at 4,15 a. His great flight lasted thirty-seven minutes. When he landed near Dover, the first person to greet him was a local policeman. Latham made another attempt a week later and got within half a mile of Dover, but he was unlucky again.
His engine failed and he landed on the sea for the second time. Boxing matches were very popular in England two hundred years ago. In those days, boxers fought with bare fists for prize money.
Because of this, they were known as 'prizefighters'. However, boxing was very crude, for these were no rules and a prizefighter could be seriously injured or even killed during a match. One of the most colourful figures in boxing history was Daniel Mendoza, who was born in The use of gloves was not introduced until , when the Marquis of Queensberry drew up the first set of rules.
Though he was technically a prizefighter, Mendoza did much to change crude prizefighting into a sport, for he brought science to the game. In this day, Mendoza enjoyed tremendous popularity. He was adored by rich and poor alike. Mendoza rose to fame swiftly after a boxing match when he was only fourteen years old. This attracted the attention of Richard Humphries who was then the most eminent boxer in England.
He offered to train Mendoza and his young pupil was quick to learn. In fact, Mendoza soon became so successful that Humphries turned against him. The two men quarrelled bitterly and it was clear that the argument could only be settled by a fight. A match was held at Stilton, where both men fought for an hour. The public bet a great deal of money on Mendoza, but he was defeated. Mendoza met Humphries in the ring on a later occasion and he lost for a second time.
It was not until his third match in that he finally beat Humphries and became Champion of England. Meanwhile, he founded a highly successful Academy and even Lord Byron became one of his pupils.
Despite this, he was so extravagant that he was always in debt. After he was defeated by a boxer called Gentleman Jackson, he was quickly forgotten. He was sent to prison for failing to pay his debts and died in poverty in Some plays are so successful that they run for years on end.
In many ways, this is unfortunate for the poor actors who are required to go on repeating the same lines night after night.
One would expect them to know their parts by heart and never have cause to falter. Yet this is not always the case. A famous actor in a highly successful play was once cast in the role of an aristocrat who had been imprisoned in the Bastille for twenty years.
In the last act, a gaoler would always come on to the stage with a letter which he would hand to the prisoner. Even though the noble was expected to read the letter at each performance, he always insisted that it should be written out in full. One night, the gaoler decided to play a joke on his colleague to find out if, after so many performances, he had managed to learn the contents of the letter by heart. The curtain went up on the final act of the play and revealed the aristocrat sitting alone behind bars in his dark cell.
Just then, the gaoler appeared with the precious letter in his bands. He entered the cell and presented the letter to the aristocrat. But the copy he gave him had not been written out in full as usual.
It was simply a blank sheet of paper. The gaoler looked on eagerly, anxious to see if his fellow actor had at last learnt his lines.
The noble stared at the blank sheet of paper for a few seconds. Then, squinting his eyes, he said: Read the letter to me'. And he promptly handed the sheet of paper to the gaoler. Finding that he could not remember a word of the letter either, the gaoler replied: Much to the aristocrat's amusement, the gaoler returned a few moments later with a pair of glasses and the usual copy of the letter with he proceeded to read to the prisoner. People become quite illogical when they try to decide what can be eaten and what cannot be eaten.
If you lived in the Mediterranean, for instance, you would consider octopus a great delicacy. You would not be able to understand why some people find it repulsive. On the other hand, your stomach would turn at the idea of frying potatoes in animal fat -- the normally accepted practice in many northern countries. The sad truth is that most of us have been brought up to eat certain foods and we stick to them all our lives.
No creature has received more praise and abuse than the common garden snail. Cooked in wine, snails are a great luxury in various parts of the world. There are countless people who, ever since their early years, have learned to associate snails with food. My friend, Robert, lives in a country where snails are despised. As his flat is in a large town, he has no garden of his own. For years he has been asking me to collect snails from my garden and take them to him. The idea never appealed to me very much, but one day, after heavy shower, I happened to be walking in my garden when I noticed a huge number of snails taking a stroll on some of my prize plants.
Acting on a sudden impulse, I collected several dozen, put them in a paper bag, and took them to Robert. Robert was delighted to see me and equally pleased with my little gift. I left the bag in the hall and Robert and I went into the living room where we talked for a couple of hours. I had forgotten all about the snails when Robert suddenly said that I must stay to dinner.
Snails would, of course, be the main dish. I did not fancy the idea and I reluctantly followed Robert out of the room.
To our dismay, we saw that there were snails everywhere: I have never been able to look at a snail since then. A skeleton in the cupboard We often read in novels how a seemingly respectable person or family has some terrible secret which has been concealed from strangers for years. The English language possesses a vivid saying to describe this sort of situation. The terrible secret is called 'a skeleton in the cupboard'. At some dramatic moment in the story, the terrible secret becomes known and a reputation is ruined.
The reader's hair stands on end when he reads in the final pages of the novel that the heroine a dear old lady who had always been so kind to everybody, had, in her youth, poisoned every one of her five husbands.
It is all very well for such things to occur in fiction. To varying degrees, we all have secrets which we do not want even our closest friends to learn, but few of us have skeletons in the cupboard. The only person I know who has a skeleton in the cupboard is George Carlton, and he is very pound of the fact.
George studied medicine in his youth. Instead of becoming a doctor, however, he became a successful writer of detective stories. I once spend an uncomfortable weekend which I shall never forget at his house. George showed me to the guestroom which, he said, was rarely used. He told me to unpack my things and then come down to dinner. After I had stacked my shirts and underclothes in two empty drawers, I decided to hang one of the tow suits I had brought with me in the cupboard.
I opened the cupboard door and then stood in front of two suits I had brought with me in the cupboard. I opened the cupboard door and then stood in front of it suits I had brought with me in the cupboard.
I opened the cupboard door and then stood in front of it petrified. A skeleton was dangling before my eyes. The sudden movement of the door made it sway slightly and it gave me the impression that it was about to leap out at me. Dropping my suit, I dashed downstairs to tell George.
This was worse than "a terrible secret'; this was a read skeleton! But George was unsympathetic. You forget that I was a medical student once upon a time.
One of the most famous sailing ships of the nineteenth century, the Cutty Sark, can still be seen at Greenwich. She stands on dry land and is visited by thousands of people each year.
She serves as an impressive reminder of the great ships of past. Before they were replaced by steamships, sailing vessels like the Cutty Sark were used to carry tea from China and wool from Australia. The Cutty Sark was one the fastest sailing ships that has ever been built. The only other ship to match her was the Thermopylae. Both these ships set out from Shanghai on June 18th, on an exciting race to England.
This race, which went on for exactly four exactly four months, was the last of its kind. It marked the end of the great tradition of ships with sails and the beginning of a new era. The first of the two ships to reach Java after the race had begun was the Thermopylae, but on the Indian Ocean, the Cutty Sark took lead.
It seemed certain that she would be the first ship home, but during the race she had a lot of bad luck. In August, she was struck by a very heavy storm during which her rudder was torn away. The Cutty Sark rolled from side to side and it became impossible to steer her. A temporary rudder was made on board from spare planks and it was fitted with great difficulty. This greatly reduced the speed of the ship, for there was a danger that if she travelled too quickly, this rudder would be torn away as well.
Because of this, the Cutty Sark lost her lead. After crossing the Equator, the captain called in at a port to have a new rudder fitted, but by now the Thermopylae was over five hundred miles ahead.
Though the new rudder was fitted at tremendous speed, it was impossible for the Cutty Sark to win. She arrived in England a week after the Thermopylae.
Even this was remarkable, considering that she had had so many delays. No one can avoid being influenced by advertisements. Much as we may pride ourselves on our good taste, we are no longer free to choose the things we want, for advertising exerts a subtle influence on us. In their efforts to persuade us to download this or that product, advertisers have made a close study of human nature and have classified all our little weaknesses.
Advertisers discovered years ago that all of us love to get something for nothing. An advertisement which begins with the magic word FREE can rarely go wrong. These days, advertisers not only offer free samples, but free cars, free houses, and free trips round the world as well.
They devise hundreds of competitions which will enable us to win huge sums of money. Radio and television have made it possible for advertisers to capture the attention of millions of people in this way. During a radio programme, a company of biscuit manufacturers once asked listeners to bake biscuits and send them to their factory. The response to this competition was tremendous. Before long, biscuits of all shapes and sizes began arriving at the factory.
One lady brought in a biscuit on a wheelbarrow. It weighed nearly pounds. A little later, a man came along with a biscuit which occupied the whole boot of his car. All the biscuits that were sent were carefully weighed. The largest was pounds. It seemed certain that this would win the prize. But just before the competition closed, a lorry arrived at the factory with a truly colossal biscuit which weighed 2, pounds.
It had been baked by a college student who had used over 1, pounds of flour, pounds of sugar, pounds of fat, and pounds of various other ingredients. It was so heavy that a crane had to be used to remove it from the lorry. It has been said that everyone lives by selling something. In the light of this statement, teachers live by selling knowledge, philosophers by selling wisdom and priests by selling spiritual comfort. Though it may be possible to measure the value of material good in terms of money, it is extremely difficult to estimate the true value of the services which people perform for us.
There are times when we would willingly give everything we possess to save our lives, yet we might grudge paying a surgeon a high fee for offering us precisely this service.
The conditions of society are such that skills have to be paid for in the same way that goods are paid for at a shop. Everyone has something to sell.
Tramps seem to be the only exception to this general rule. Beggars almost sell themselves as human being to arouse the pity of passers-by. But real tramps are not beggars. They have nothing to sell and require nothing from others. In seeking independence, they do not sacrifice their human dignity. A tramp may ask you for money, but he will never ask you to feel sorry for him. He has deliberately chosen to lead the life he leads and is fully aware of the consequences. He may never be sure where the next meal is coming from, but his is free from the thousands of anxieties which afflict other people.
His few material possessions make it possible for him to move from place to place with ease. By having to sleep in the open, he gets far closer to the world of nature than most of us ever do. He may hunt, beg, or stead occasionally to keep himself alive; he may even, in times of real need, do a little work; but he will never sacrifice his freedom. We often speak of my even, in times of real need, do a little work; but he will never sacrifice his freedom.
We often speak of tramps with contempt and put them in the same class as beggars, but how many of us can honestly say that we have not felt a little envious of their simple way of life and their freedom from care?
Small boats loaded with wares sped to the great liner as she was entering the harbour. Before she had anchored, the men from the boats had climbed on board and the decks were son covered with colourful rugs from Persia, silks from India, copper coffee pots, and beautiful handmade silverware. It was difficult not to be tempted. Many of the tourists on board had begun bargaining with the tradesmen, but I decide not to download anything until I had disembarked.
I had no sooner got off the ship than I was assailed by a man who wanted to sell me a diamond ring. I had no intention of downloading one, but I could not conceal the fact that I was impressed by the size of the diamonds. Some of them were as big as marbles. The man went to great lengths to prove that the diamonds were real.
As we were walking past a shop, he held a diamond firmly against the window and made a deep impression in the glass. It took me over half an hour to get rid of him. The next man to approach me was selling expensive pens and watches. I examined one of the pens closely. It certainly looked genuine. At the base of the gold cap, the words 'made in the U.
A' had been nearly inscribed. Shrugging my shoulders, I began to walk away when, a moment later, he ran after me and thrust the pen into my hands. I felt especially pleased with my wonderful bargain -- until I got back to the ship. No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to fill this beautiful pen with ink and to this day it has never written a single world! Funny or not? The sense of humour is mysteriously bound up with national characteristics.
A Frenchman, for instance, might find it hard to laugh at a Russian joke. In the same way, a Russian might fail to see anything amusing in a joke witch would make an Englishman laugh to tears.
Most funny stories are based on comic situations. In spite of national differences, certain funny situations have a universal appeal. No matter where you live, you would find it difficult not to laugh at, say, Charlie Chaplin's early films.
However, a new type of humour, which stems largely from the U. It is called 'sick humour'. Comedians base their jokes on tragic situation like violent death or serious accidents. Many people find this sort of joke distasteful. The following example of 'sick humour' will enable you to judge for yourself.
A man who had broken his right leg was taken to hospital a few weeks before Christmas. From the moment he arrived there, he kept on pestering his doctor to tell him when he would be able to go home.
He dreaded having to spend Christmas in hospital. Though the doctors did his best, the patient's recovery was slow. On Christmas Day, the man still had his right leg in plaster. He spent a miserable day in bed thinking of all the fun he was missing. The following day, however, the doctor consoled him by telling him that his chances of being able to leave hospital in time for New Year celebrations were good. The man took heart and, sure enough, on New Years' Eve he was able to hobble along to a party.
To compensate for his unpleasant experiences in hospital, the man drank a little more than was good for him. In the process, he enjoyed himself thoroughly and kept telling everybody how much he hated hospitals. He was still mumbling something about hospitals at the end of the party when he slipped on a piece of ice and broke his left leg. For years, villagers believed that Endley Farm was hunted. The farm was owned by two brothers, Joe and Bob Cox. They employed a few farmhands, but no one was willing to work there long.
Every time a worker gave up his job, he told the same story. Farm labourers said that they always woke up to find that work had been done overnight.
Hay had been cut and cowsheds had been cleaned. A farm worker, who stayed up all night claimed to have seen a figure cutting corn in the moonlight.
In time, it became an accepted fact the Cox brothers employed a conscientious ghost that did most of their work for them. No one suspected that there might be someone else on the farm who ACMW: This was indeed the case. A short time ago, villagers were astonished to learn that the ghost of Endley had died. Everyone went to the funeral, for the 'ghost' was none other than Eric Cox, a third brother who was supposed to have died as a young man. After the funeral, Joe and Bob revealed a secret which they had kept for over fifty years.
Eric had been the eldest son of the family, very much older than his two brothers. He had been obliged to join the army during the Second World War. As he hated army life, he decided to desert his regiment. When he learnt that he would be sent abroad, he returned to the farm and his father hid him until the end of the war.
Fearing the authorities, Eric remained in hiding after the war as well. His father told everybody that Eric had been killed in action. The only other people who knew the secret were Joe and Bob. They did not even tell their wives. When their father died, they thought it their duty to keep Eric in hiding.
All these years, Eric had lived as a recluse. He used to sleep during the day and work at night, quite unaware of the fact that he had become the ghost of Endley. When he died, however, his brothers found it impossible to keep the secret any longer. True eccentrics never deliberately set out to draw attention to themselves. They disregard social conventions without being conscious that they are doing anything extraordinary.
This invariably wins them the love and respect of others, for they add colour to the dull routine of everyday life. Up to the time of his death, Richard Colson was one of the most notable figures in our town. He was a shrewd and wealthy businessman, but most people in the town hardly knew anything about this side of his life.
He was known to us all as Dickie and his eccentricity had become legendary long before he died. Dickie disliked snobs intensely. Though he owned a large car, he hardly ever used it, preferring always to go on foot. Even when it was raining heavily, he refused to carry an umbrella.
One day, he walked into an expensive shop after having been caught in a particularly heavy shower. Dickie left the shop without a word and returned carrying a large cloth bag. As it was extremely heavy, he dumped it on the counter. The assistant asked him to leave, but Dickie paid no attention to him and requested to see the manager.
Recognizing who the customer was, the manager was most apologetic and reprimanded the assistant severely. When Dickie was given the watch, he presented the assistant with the cloth bag.
He insisted on the assistant's counting the money before he left -- 30, pennies in all! On another occasion, he invited a number of important critics to see his private collection of modern paintings. This exhibition received a great deal of attention in the press, for though the pictures were supposed to be the work of famous artists, they had in fact been painted by Dickie.
It took him four years to stage this elaborate joke simply to prove that critics do not always know what they are talking about. The salvage operation had been a complete failure. The small ship, Elkor, which had been searching the Barents Sea for weeks, was on its way home. A radio message from the mainland had been received by the ship's captain instructing him to give up the search.
The captain knew that another attempt would be made later, for the sunken ship he was trying to find had been carrying a precious cargo of gold bullion. Despite the message, the captain of the Elkor decided to try once more. The sea bed was scoured with powerful nets and there was tremendous excitement on board went a chest was raised from the bottom.
Though the crew were at first under the impression that the lost ship had been found, the contents of the chest proved them wrong. What they had in fact found was a ship which had been sunk many years before.
The chest contained the personal belongings of a seaman, Alan Fielding. There were books, clothing and photographs, together with letters which the seaman had once received from his wife.
The captain of the Elkor ordered his men to salvage as much as possible from the wreck. Nothing of value was found, but the numerous items which were brought to the surface proved to be of great interest. From a heavy gun that was raised, the captain realized that the ship must have been a cruiser. In another chest, which contained the belongings of a ship's officer, there was an unfinished letter which had been written on March 14th, The captain learnt from the letter that the name of the lost ship was the Karen.
The most valuable find of all was the ship's log book, parts of which it was still possible to read. From this the captain was able to piece together all the information that had come to light.
The Karen had been sailing in a convoy to Russia when she was torpedoed by an enemy submarine. This was later confirmed by naval official at the Ministry of Defiance after the Elkor had returned home.
All the items that were found were sent to the War Museum. We have all experienced days when everything goes wrong. A day may begin well enough, but suddenly everything seems to get out of control. What invariably happens is that a great number of things choose to go wrong at precisely the same moment. It is as if a single unimportant event set up a chain of reactions.
Let us suppose that you are preparing a meal and keeping an eye on the baby at the same time. The telephone rings and this marks the prelude to an unforeseen series of catastrophes. While you are on the phone, the baby pulls the tablecloth off the table, smashing half your best crockery and cutting himself in the process. You hang up hurriedly and attend to baby, crockery, etc. Meanwhile, the meal gets burnt. As if this were not enough to reduce you to tears, your husband arrives, unexpectedly bringing three guests to dinner.
Things can go wrong on a big scale, as a number of people recently discovered in Parramatta, a suburb of Sydney. During the rush hour one evening two cars collided and both drivers began to argue. The woman immediately behind the two cars happened to be a learner.
She suddenly got into a panic and stopped her car. This made the driver following her brake hard. His wife was sitting beside him holding a large cake.
As she was thrown forward, the cake went right through the windscreen and landed on the road. Seeing a cake flying through the air, a lorry driver who was drawing up alongside the car, pulled up stopped all of a sudden.
The lorry was loaded with empty beer bottles and hundreds of them slid off the back of the vehicle and on to the road. This led to yet another angry argument. Meanwhile, the traffic piled up behind. It took the police nearly an hour to get the traffic on the move again. In the meantime, the lorry driver had to sweep up hundreds of broken bottles. Only two stray dogs benefited from all this confusion, for they greedily devoured what was left of the cake.
It was just one of those days! A happy discovery Antique shops exert a peculiar fascination on a great many people. The more expensive kind of antique shop where rare objects are beautifully displayed in glass cases to keep them free from dust is usually a forbidding place. But no one has to muster up courage to enter a less pretentious antique shop. There is always hope that in its labyrinth of musty, dark, disordered rooms a real rarity will be found amongst the piles of assorted junk that little the floors.
No one discovers a rarity by chance. A truly dedicated bargain hunter must have patience, and above all, the ability to recognize the worth of something when he sees it.
To do this, he must be at least as knowledgeable as the dealer. Like a scientist bent on making a discovery, he must cherish the hope that one day he will be amply rewarded. My old friend, Frank Halliday, is just such a person. One Saturday morning, Frank visited an antique shop in my neighbourhood. As he had never been there before, he found a great deal to interest him.
The morning passed rapidly and Frank was about to leave when he noticed a large packing case lying on the floor. The dealer told him that it had just come in, but that he could not be bothered to open it. Frank begged him to do so and the dealer reluctantly prised it open. The contents were disappointing. Apart from an interesting-looking carved dagger, the box was full of crockery, much of it broken.
Frank gently lifted the crockery out of the box and suddenly noticed a miniature painting at the bottom of the packing case. As its composition and line reminded him of an Italian painting he knew well, he decided to download it. Frank could hardly conceal his excitement, for he knew that he had made a real discovery. The tiny painting proved to be an unknown masterpiece by Correggio and was worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. What is the distinction between them?
The word justice is usually associated with courts of law. We might say that justice has been done when a man's innocence or guilt has been proved beyond doubt.
Justice is part of the complex machinery of the law. Those who seek it undertake an arduous journey and can never be sure that they will find it. Judges, however wise or eminent, are human and can make mistakes. There are rare instances when justice almost ceases to be an abstract concept.
Reward or punishment are ACMW: At such times, justice acts like a living force. When we use a phrase like 'it serves him right', we are, in part, admitting that a certain set of circumstances has enabled justice to act of its own accord. When a thief was caught on the premises of large jewellery store on morning, the shop assistants must have found it impossible to resist the temptation to say 'it serves him right.
Towards midday, a girl heard a muffed cry coming from behind on of the walls. As the cry was repeated several times, she ran to tell the manager who promptly rang up the fire brigade. The cry had certainly come form one of the chimneys, but as there were so many of them, the fire fighters could not be certain which one it was. They located the right chimney by tapping at the walls and listening for the man's cries. After chipping through a wall which was eighteen inches thick, they found that a man had been trapped in the chimney.
As it was extremely narrow, the man was unable to move, but the fire fighters were eventually able to free him by cutting a huge hole in the wall.
The sorry-looking, blackened figure that emerged, admitted at once that he had tried to break into the shop during the night but had got stuck in the chimney. He had been there for nearly ten hours. Justice had been done even before the man was handed over to the police. An exciting trip Lesson 5: No wrong numbers Lesson 6: Percy Buttons Lesson 7: Too late Lesson 8: The best and the worst Lesson 9: A cold welcome Lesson Not for Jazz Lesson One good turn deserves another Lesson Goodbye and good luck Lesson The Greenwood Boys Lesson Do you speak English Lesson Good news Lesson A polite request Lesson Always young Lesson He often does this Lesson Sold out Lesson One man in a boat Lesson Mad or not Lesson A glass envelope Lesson A new house Lesson It could be worse Lesson Do the English speak English Lesson The best art critics Lesson A wet night Lesson No parking Lesson Taxi Lesson Football or polo Lesson Success story Lesson Shopping made easy Lesson Out of the darkness Lesson Quick work Lesson Stop thief Lesson Across the channel Lesson The Olympic Game Lesson Everything except the weather Lesson Am I all right?
Lesson Food and talk Lesson Do you call that a hat? Not very musical Lesson Over the South Pole Lesson Through the forest Lesson A clear conscience Lesson Expensive and uncomfortable Lesson A thirsty ghost Lesson Did you want to tell me something? The end of a dream Lesson Taken for a ride Lesson Reward for a virtue Lesson A pretty carpet Lesson Hot snake Lesson Sticky fingers Lesson Not a gold mine Lesson Faster than sound!
Can I help you, madam? A blessing in disguise Lesson In or out Lesson The future Lesson Trouble with the Hubble Lesson After the fire Lesson She was not amused Lesson The Channel Tunnel Lesson Jumbo versus the police Lesson Sweet as honey!
Volcanoes Lesson Persistent Lesson