Oct 3rd

How to learn easy English?

By Xavier Fowler
 
Keep a notebook of new words you learn. Use them in sentences and try to say them at least 3 times when you speak. Use dictionary once a day for new words. Memorisation of lists is one of the most common ways of learning vocabulary for a test.
Jul 27th

about english

By Rahul Patidar

Hiii Friends,

I am Rahul

today i am talking about english. So friends english is not a tipical language, english language is very simple language that we can easily learn it but what do we do. We make it complicated . and we think again and again without practice it. we think that it is tipical and we give up . So what we have to do . We have to take only single step. That is start learning it.
Thank you

Jan 8th

How to Learn English Well

By Saiful Alam

How to Learn English Well

 English is an international language. However, learning a language is not an easy matter. But, it would be easier for us, if we try to improve the four skills of any language. The four skills are as:  listening, speaking, reading and writing. Actually, there are two ways to acquire a language. One is called acquisition and the other is named learning. First, if a person wants to improve in listening skill, he needs to be a careful listener. He can also listen to the B.B.C radio news and can enjoy other programmes in English. Gradually, his listening skill will be developed. Secondly, speaking is the most important skill of all. To improve the skill, we must converse in English as much as possible. There is no other way out to master the skill but to practise speaking. We should not be much worried about our mistakes while speaking. Thirdly, reading is the third skill. We can be successful in the skill only by reading a great number of books in English. One can read short stories, English newspapers, English grammar books by the English and so on. Finally, writing is last essential language skill. To be good at writing, we must write regularly and for this, we can choose any topic. Although it is difficult to be a good writer, only rigorous practice may help us in this regard. Thus, we can both acquire and learn English well.    

 

 

 

May 31st

Inspirations

By Mohd Saim

Don’t Worry About What Others Think Of You.

Be crazy, be weird.
Don’t be afraid of what anybody thinks.

Love Means

Love means that you accept a person with all their Failures, Stupidities, Ugly Points and nonetheless, you see Perfection in Imperfection Itself.

Why Complicate Life?

Missing somebody? …Call
Wanna meet up? …Invite
Wanne be understood? …Explain
Have questions? …Ask
Don’t like something? …Say It
Like something? …State It
Want something? …Ask for it
Love someone? …Tell It

We just have one Life, Keep it Simple.

Don’t Ask Life – Why Me?

Smooth roads never make good drivers.
Smooth sea never makes good sailors.
Clear skies never make good pilots.

Problem free life never makes a strong person.
Be strong enough to accept the challenges of life..

Don’t ask life, ‘Why me?’. Instead say, ‘Try me!’

 

 

 

Starting A New Chapter In Life

Today I close the door to the past,
open the door to the future,
take a deep breath,
step on through and start a new chapter in my life.

21 Things To Remember

  1.  No one can ruin your day without YOUR permission.
  2. Most people will be about as happy, as they decide to be.
  3. Others can stop you temporarily, but only you can do it permanently.
  4. Whatever you are willing to put up with, is exactly what you will have.
  5. Success stops when you do.
  6. When your ship comes in…. make sure you are willing to unload it.
  7. You will never have it all together.
  8. Life is a journey… not a destination. Enjoy the trip!
  9. The biggest lie on the planet When I get what I want I will be happy.
  10. The best way to escape your problem is to solve it.
  11. I’ve learned that ultimately, ‘takers’ lose and ‘givers’ win.
  12. Life’s precious moments don’t have value, unless they are shared.
  13. If you don’t start, it’s certain you won’t arrive.
  14. We often fear the thing we want the most.
  15. He or she who laughs, lasts.
  16. Yesterday was the deadline for all complaints.
  17. Look for opportunities… not guarantees.
  18. Life is what’s coming…. not what was.
  19. Success is getting up one more time.
  20. Now is the most interesting time of all.
  21. When things go wrong….. don’t go with them.

May 31st

Secrets About Guys That Girls Should Know

By Mohd Saim

Secrets About Guys That Girls Should Know

  1. Guys don’t actually look after good-looking girls. They prefer neat and presentable girls.
  2. Guys hate flirts.
  3. A guy can like you for a minute, and then forget you afterwards.
  4. When a guy says he doesn’t understand you, it simply means you’re not thinking the way he is.
  5. “Are you doing something?” or “Have you eaten already?” are the first usual questions a guy asks on the phone just to get out from stammering.
  6. Guys may be flirting around all day but before they go to sleep, they always think about the girl they truly care about.
  7. When a guy really likes you, he’ll disregard all your bad characteristics.
  8. Guys go crazy over a girl’s smile.
  9. Guys will do anything just to get the girl’s attention.
  10. Guys hate it when you talk about your ex-boyfriend.
  11. When guys want to meet your parents. Let them.
  12. Guys want to tell you many things but they can’t. And they sure have one habit to gain courage and spirit to tell you many things and it is drinking!
  13. Guys cry!
  14. Don’t provoke the guy to heat up. Believe me. He will.
  15. Guys can never dream and hope too much.
  16. Guys usually try hard to get the girl who has dumped them, and this makes it harder for them to accept their defeat.
  17. When you touch a guy’s heart, there’s no turning back.
  18. Giving a guy a hanging message like “You know what?!..uh…never mind!” would make him jump to a conclusion that is far from what you are thinking.
  19. Guys go crazy when girls touch their hands.
  20. Guys are good flatterers when courting but they usually stammer when they talk to a girl they really like.
  21. When a guy makes a prolonged “umm” or makes any excuses when you’re asking him to do you a favor, he’s actually saying that he doesn’t like you and he can’t lay down the card for you.
  22. When a girl says “no”, a guy hears it as “try again tomorrow.”
  23. You have to tell a guy what you really want before he gets the message clearly.
  24. Guys hate gays!
  25. Guys love their moms.
  26. A guy would sacrifice his money for lunch just to get you a couple of roses.
  27. A guy often thinks about the girl who likes him. But this doesn’t mean that the guy likes her.
  28. You can never understand him unless you listen to him.
  29. If a guy tells you he loves you once in a lifetime. He does.
  30. Beware. Guys can make gossips scatter through half of the face of the earth faster than girls can.
  31. Like Eve, girls are guys’ weaknesses.
  32. Guys are very open about themselves.
  33. It’s good to test a guy first before you believe him. But don’t let him wait that long.
  34. No guy is bad when he is courting
  35. Guys hate it when their clothes get dirty. Even a small dot.
  36. Guys really admire girls that they like even if they’re not that much pretty.
  37. Your best friend, whom your boyfriend seeks help from about his problems with you may end up being admired by your boyfriend.
  38. If a guy tells you about his problems, he just needs someone to listen to him. You don’t need to give advice.
  39. A usual act that proves that the guy likes you is when he teases you.
  40. A guy finds ways to keep you off from linking with someone else.
  41. Guys love girls with brains more than girls in miniskirts.
  42. Guys try to find the stuffed toy a girl wants but would unluckily get the wrong one.
  43. Guys virtually brag about anything.
  44. Guys cannot keep secrets that girls tell them.
  45. Guys think too much.
  46. Guys’ fantasies are unlimited.
  47. Girls’ height doesn’t really matter to a guy but her weight does!
  48. Guys tend to get serious with their relationship and become too possessive. So watch out girls!
  49. When a girl makes the boy suffer during courtship, it would be hard for him to let go of that girl.
  50. It’s not easy for a guy to let go of his girlfriend after they broke up especially when they’ve been together for 3 years or more.
  51. You have to tell a guy what you really want before getting involved with that guy.
  52. A guy has to experience rejection; because if he’s too-good-never-been-busted, never been in love and hurt, he won’t be matured and grow up.
  53. When an unlikable circumstance comes, guys blame themselves a lot more than girls do. They could even hurt themselves physically.
  54. Guys have strong passion to change but have weak will power.
  55. Guys are tigers in their peer groups but become tamed pussycats with their girlfriends.
  56. When a guy pretends to be calm, check if he’s sweating. You’ll probably see that he is nervous.
  57. When a guy says he is going crazy about the girl. He really is.
  58. When a guy asks you to leave him alone, he’s just actually saying, “Please come and listen to me”
  59. Guys don’t really have final decisions.
  60. When a guy loves you, bring out the best in him.
  61. If a guy starts to talk seriously, listen to him.
  62. If a guy has been kept shut or silent, say something.
  63. Guys believe that there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but court the girls anyway and then realize at the end that he is wrong.
  64. Guys like femininity not feebleness.
  65. Guys don’t like girls who punch harder than they do.
  66. A guy may instantly know if the girl likes him but can never be sure unless the girl tells him.
  67. A guy would waste his time over video games and basketball, the way a girl would do over her romance novels and make-ups.
  68. Guys love girls who can cook or bake.
  69. Guys like girls who are like their moms. No kidding!
  70. A guy has more problems than you can see with your naked eyes.
  71. A guy’s friend knows everything about him. Use this to your advantage.
  72. Don’t be a snob. Guys may easily give up on the first sign of rejection.
  73. Don’t be biased. Try loving a guy without prejudice and you’ll be surprised.
  74. Girls who bathe in their eau de perfumes do more repelling than attracting guys.
  75. Guys are more talkative than girls are especially when the topic is about girls.
  76. Guys don’t comprehend the statement “Get lost” too well.
  77. Guys really think that girls are strange and have unpredictable decisions but still love them more.
  78. When a guy gives a crooked or pretentious grin at your jokes, he finds them offending and he just tried to be polite.
  79. Guys don’t care about how shiny their shoes are unlike girls.
  80. Guys tend to generalize about girls but once they get to know them,they’ll realize they’re wrong.
  81. Any guy can handle his problems all by his own. He’s just too stubborn to deal with it.
  82. Guys find it so objectionable when a girl swears.
  83. Guys’ weakest point is at the knee.
  84. When a problem arises, a guy usually keeps himself cool but is already thinking of a way out.
  85. When a guy is conscious of his looks, it shows he is not good at fixing things.
  86. When a guy looks at you, either he’s amazed of you or he’s criticizing you.
  87. When you catch him cheating on you and he asks for a second chance, give it to him. But when you catch him again and he asks for another chance, ignore him.
  88. If a guy lets you go, he really loves you.
  89. If you have a boyfriend, and your boy best friend always glances at you and it obviously shows that he is jealous whenever you’re with your boyfriend, all I can say is your boy best friend loves you more than your boyfriend does.
  90. Guys learn from experience not from the romance books that girls read and take as their basis of experience.
  91. You can tell if a guy is really hurt or in pain when he cries in front of you!
  92. If a guy suddenly asks you for a date, ask him first why.
  93. When a guy says he can’t sleep if he doesn’t hear your voice even just for one night, hang up. He also tells that to another girl. He only flatters you and sometimes makes fun of you.
  94. You can truly say that a guy has good intentions if you see him praying sometimes.
  95. Guys seek for advice not from a guy but from a girl.
  96. Girls are allowed to touch boys’ things. Not their hair!
  97. If a guy says you’re beautiful, that guy likes you.
  98. Guys hate girls who overreact.
  99. Guys love you more than you love them if they are serious in your relationships.

                         **Mohd Saim**

Apr 3rd

SHE, MUSIC and LIFE...!!

By Mr.Minion. :)

SHE, MUSIC and LIFE...!!

This is not the story of only a girl named Madhuri, but like as many girls of surrounding to us. Due to poverty and born as girl, their skills have been bounded in a small thing, their expectations, feelings were trampled out. So how can they live for their passion, respect…the following story tolds you the conditions of Madhuri…. She sung only for her satisfaction of her mind. The “Music” is the thing that she likes most. She is not that much famous female singer also. She is the only talented person from the family that not having an iota relation with the music. Her name is Madhuri, her father work as a painter. As like the children grown with culture of family, she has not got that much. But still she got her tuning with the music and she learnt it in the deep like that her sweet note keep an influence on the all the people. The music keeps the mind stable and giving pleasure to the person listening it and who sing it. It is a big support to the person’s in sad mood. Her music becomes a milestone for her family. She has won many state as well as national level competitions. She has educated and got degree as the musician. She has selected for many the music programs on TV channels, but due to only her family condition she can’t able to go forward. Once a time she has selected for the competition in a big city, she was not having money to go there. The MLA of her city helped her for expenses to go to city in which the competition is, and as her talent she also won prize there too. But one thing, because of that she get nervous many times was the money problem and for each time, she didn’t like to spread hands in front of people. And she has decided to take parts in the music competitions in city. Her journey towards the singing is wonderful, in her childhood days she has heard the music from the music school nearer to her house. She has tries to listen all songs from outside the school for hour to hours. She kept that songs in mind and in home she tried the songs, she sang the songs that children sung in the school. Due to her attraction towards the music, she kept herself over there and listen the music class. Anyone says that this is like a ‘AKALAVYA’ but still she didn’t having any teacher yet. On one day , the music teacher have found that one girl singing a song from outside the school, and due to her sweet tune she startled and she had decided to teach her. And from that moment her music class started. Her sweet enchanting tuning tempt on everybody. She wants more education and she tries for that, but at last year she have got married and all her liking towards music has been stopped. And from that instance she became so quite, it’s all can be because of her destroyed music dream. She has not tried to speak up her pain with other. The all storms of happy life in her mind have to be stop by her for further life after the marriage. And as in these conditions she got ill or fever from the last 6 months, and due to not improvement with medicine she has lost her life.. We can say that this is the story like the death of an artman, a singer, who loves music. And with the end of music in her life there is end of mind state. What a devotee of music she was…!!! so friends if your heart loves, then you do it, but not to try to keep hearts liking in you..give the way to full fill wishes..that your heart loves....

.

Dec 21st

Life of a Software Engineer

By Mohd Saim

Life of a Software Engineer

Pays damn good. Life Sucks!….Software Engineer

I’m a software engineer writing this so that someone can learn from my experience.

I graduated in 2000 and got two technical degrees from one of the most “esteemed” universities in India.(I would not be able to answer even the most basic questions if asked a question on the subject of either of my degrees. This might sound stupid but you wont believe the number of people who are like me!!!) I got my first job in the US of A. And my first car is something I only previously saw in american movies.

I work in a major communication systems deveopment company and spend my life sitting in front of a computer screen ( mostly thinking “What the hell am I doing here???”. ).

I have been working only for a year now and already I feel I’ve burnt out. The work that I do is really interesting as far as software engineering goes.The field is in embedded system developement. Real systems work. You also get to work on real life problems which affect millions of users worldwide and problems which most computer developers would kill to be working on.

You work with new technology and even have a sense of accomplishment that your work is really being used by people. The work culture ensures that you get the sole credit for any work that you do.

The Good points of my job:

1. Good pay.

2. Intellectually stimulating.

3. Not something anyone can do!

The bad:

1. NO women!

2. No or minimum contact with people.

2. LONG hours in the office.

3. Lots of stress.

4. No social life.

5. Radiation burns from the monitors. 

Guys at college: (esp in India)… MONEY IS NOT EVERYTHING! THINK about what you REALLY want to do in life!Its not a joke. And usually in India you dont have a choice. Its YOUR life… dont let anyone else (even parents) make this decision for you.

I am seriously thinking of changing my career. Unfortunately I dont know what I would love to do. And the things that I do love …people would not pay me to do   . 

I’m searching alternatives right now. Lets see what happens.

I had previously thought that I’d make a million and retire by 25… (yes I said 25). That was possible in my field maybe a year ago but not now and probably not for the next two/three years. And I cant waste those precious years.

In five I years I want see my self on a place with tropical beaches. The same for when I’m thirty… doing something I really love.

Umm enough … I think I’ve bored you enough.

Sep 2nd

Nostalgia (Poetry)

By Jane Doe
Everything is a memory in the making...
Soon my rantings too will be but solid and strong memories,
Lurking in the corners of your mind,
Ebbing nostalgia... 
Recalling every detail of important things, people and events.
Sometimes I swim in my own nostalgia,
Sometimes I drown in it....
Solid, strong memories keep my head above water,
Swimming past bursts of pain,
To float in the re-enjoyment of beautiful moments...
With you.... 
Jun 29th

LOVE STORY

By Mohd Saim

                                            

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty

cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by

bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until

one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that

such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One

dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be

Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby

little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral

reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with

sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from

the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished

flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it

certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter

would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could

coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the

name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a

former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30

per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they

were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming

D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and

The Gift Of The Magi -- O. Henry

- 4 -

reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by

Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della.

Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the

powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a

gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would

be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a

present. She had been saving every penny she could for months,

with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses

had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only

$1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she

had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and

rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of

the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room.

Perhaps you have seen a peerglass in an $8 flat. A very thin and

very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid

sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception

of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the

glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its

color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and

let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham

Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's

gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The

other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat

across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the

window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels

and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures

piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch

every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

The Gift Of The Magi -- O. Henry

- 5 -

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and

shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee

and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up

again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and

stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat.

With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes,

she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair

Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected

herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked

the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a

sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a

practiced hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget

the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's

present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no

one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she

had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain

simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by

substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all

good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon

The Gift Of The Magi -- O. Henry

- 6 -

as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him.

Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one

dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87

cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious

about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he

sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather

strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little

to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted

the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity

added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a

mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and

critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a

second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl.

But what could I do--oh! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-

seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on

the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand

and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always

entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first

flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for

saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and

now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked

thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to

The Gift Of The Magi -- O. Henry

- 7 -

be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was

without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the

scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an

expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It

was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of

the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at

her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my

hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through

Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you

won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully

fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't

know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he

had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental

labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as

well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of

idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it

went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she

went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever

count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

The Gift Of The Magi -- O. Henry

- 8 -

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded

his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some

inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week

or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a

wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable

gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be

illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it

upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't

think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a

shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll

unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while

at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And

then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! A quick feminine

change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate

employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back,

that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful

combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to

wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs,

she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them

without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but

the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were

gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was

able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows

so fast, Jim!"

    The Gift Of The Magi -- O. Henry

- 9 -

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried,

"Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to

him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed

to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll

have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your

watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put

his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and

keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the

watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you

put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise

men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented

the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were

no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in

case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the

uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most

unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their

house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that

of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and

receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest.

They are the magi.

 

                                            ***Mohd Saim***

 

                             

“She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,”

cried the young Student; “but in all my garden there is no red

rose.” From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard

him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

“No red rose in all my garden!” he cried, and his beautiful eyes

filled with tears. “Ah, on what little things does happiness depend!

I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of

philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made

wretched.” “Here at last is a true lover,” said the Nightingale.

“Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not;

night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see

him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red

as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale

ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.” “The Prince

gives a ball to-morrow night,” murmured the young Student, “and

my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will

dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in

my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her

hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my

garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have

no heed of me, and my heart will break.”

“Here indeed is the true lover,” said the Nightingale. “What I sing

of, he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a

wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer

than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set

forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased of the

merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.” “The

musicians will sit in their gallery,” said the young Student, “and

play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to

the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that

her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay

dresses will throng around her. But with me she will not dance, for

I have no red rose to give her”; and he flung himself down on the

grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

“Why is he weeping?” asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past

him with his tail in the air.

“Why, indeed?” said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a

sunbeam.

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“Why, indeed?” whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low

voice.

“He is weeping for a red rose,” said the Nightingale.

“For a red rose!” they cried; “how very ridiculous!” and the little

Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s sorrow,

and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of

Love.

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into

the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a

shadow she sailed across the garden.

In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree,

and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing you my sweetest

song.” But the Tree shook its head.

“My roses are white,” it answered; “as white as the foam of the sea,

and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother

who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you

what you want.” So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that

was growing round the old sun-dial.

“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing you my sweetest

song.” But the Tree shook its head.

“My roses are yellow,” it answered; “as yellow as the hair of the

mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the

daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with

his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s

window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing

beneath the Student’s window.

“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing you my sweetest

song.” But the Tree shook its head.

“My roses are red,” it answered; “as red as the feet of the dove, and

redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean

cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has

nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I

shall have no roses at all this year.” “One red rose is all I want,”

cried the Nightingale. “Only one red rose! Is there any way by

which I can get it?” “There is a way,” answered the Tree; “but it is

so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.” “Tell it to me,” said the

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Nightingale, “I am not afraid.” “If you want a red rose,” said the

Tree, “you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it

with your own heart’s-blood. You must sing to me with your

breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the

thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into

my veins, and become mine.” “Death is a great price to pay for a

red rose,” cried the Nightingale, “and Life is very dear to all. It is

pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his

chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the

scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the

valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better

than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a

man?” So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into

the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a

shadow she sailed through the grove.

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left

him, and the tears were not yet dry on his beautiful eyes.

“Be happy,” cried the Nightingale, “be happy; you shall have your

red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with

my own heart’s-blood.

All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for

Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier

than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings,

and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey,

and his breath is like frankincense.” The Student looked up from

the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the

Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that

are written down in books.

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of

the little nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.

“Sing me one last song,” he whispered; “I shall feel very lonely

when you are gone.”

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like

water bubbling from a silver jar.

When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a

note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

“She has form,” he said to himself, as he walked away through the

grove, “that cannot be denied her; but has she got feeling? I am

afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without

any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks

5

merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish.

Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her

voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any

practical good.” And he went into his room, and lay down on his

little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he

fell asleep.

And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to

the Rosetree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long

she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold, crystal

Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the

thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her lifeblood

ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl.

And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a

marvellous rose, petal followed petal, as song followed song. Pale

was it, as first, as the mist that hangs over the river- pale as the feet

of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the

shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a

water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of

the Tree.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the

thorn. “Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the Tree, “or the Day

will come before the rose is finished.” So the Nightingale pressed

closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for

she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like

the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of

the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose’s

heart remained white, for only a Nightingale’s heart’s-blood can

crimson the heart of a rose.

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the

thorn. “Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the Tree, “or the Day

will come before the rose is finished.” So the Nightingale pressed

closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a

fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and

wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is

perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the

eastern sky.

Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the

heart.

6

But the Nightingale’s voice grew fainter, and her little wings began

to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her

song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The White Moon heard it,

and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose

heard it and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened it petals

to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the

hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It

floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message

to the sea.

“Look, look!” cried the Tree, “the rose is finished now”; but the

Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long

grass, with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

“Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!” he cried; “here is a red

rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so

beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name”; and he leaned

down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with

the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding

blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

“You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red

rose,” cried the Student. “Here is the reddest rose in all the world.

You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together

it will tell you how I love you.” But the girl frowned.

“I am afraid it will not go with my dress,” she answered; “and,

besides, the Chamberlain’s nephew has sent me some real jewels,

and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.”

“Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,” said the Student,

angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the

gutter, and a cartwheel went over it.

“Ungrateful!” said the girl. “I tell you what, you are very rude;

and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don’t believe

you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the

Chamberlain’s nephew has”; and she got up from her chair and

went into the house.

“What a silly thing Love is,” said the Student as he walked away.

“It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and

it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and

7

making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite

unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall

go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.”

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and

began to read.

THE END

                                                 ***Mohd Saim***

Feb 28th

Some types of Government

By sam re

A Government by the people: Democracy

A Government by a king or queen: Monarchy

A Government by the officials: Bureaucracy

A Government by the rich: Plutocracy

A Government by the few: Oligarchy

A Government by the Nobles: Aristocracy

A Government by one: Autocracy

Rule by the mob (masses): Mobocracy