读文章记单词备战英语六级

　　Unit 1 In Another Worm 另一个世界

　　Here I am, in China, half way around the world from home. As I look at my clock and calculate the time back home I realize that half a world away, people are busy getting ready for a wedding. The bride is my niece, a person I first met when she was three days old.

　　I think back to the first time I had the opportunity to become acquainted with my niece. As my sister cradled her in her arms, the infant girl clasped her mothers outstretched finger. My intuition told me that her temperament would be a sunny disposition, a joy to people around her.

　　As she grew, the cute little girl had an infectious laugh that started as a small grin, then became a giggle and grew louder and louder until it triggered a response from all the people around her and they joined in.

　　As an adolescent, she studied hard and enjoyed well deserved success in secondary school as she interacted with her peer group. After receiving her high school diploma, she chose nursing as her career.

　　From the beginning of the young couples romance it was evident that they were compatible and were completely intrigued with each other. The couple had an engagement party when I was at home in Canada a few months ago. The party was in the form of a picnic in a beautiful rose garden. To celebrate and to toast their future, we drank champagne. As they posed under an arch covered with climbing roses, we snapped pictures for their photo album.

　　The couple decided on a fall wedding. Plans for the wedding day were activated immediately. The decisions about the forthcoming event were shared by the whole family. A close friend of the family was contacted and invited to sing a solo just prior to the ceremony. The day before the ceremony, a rehearsal would take place so that the remainder of the details could be looked after and attended to. The planning that takes place beforehand for one of these events and all the work that the big day entails, with many people collaborating to make the event run smoothly, are immense. The conscientious attention to detail will be evident to the spectators of this event.

　　I can imagine the excitement and emotions of the family today. The time is near. The ceremony will begin in 3 short hours. The bride will be radiant as she comes down the aisle escorted by her father. She will wear her grandmothers pearls as an accessory. Her veil will be the same one as her cousin wore last year. As is customary, under her garments she will wear a blue garter. As part of the tradition of Canadian weddings, she will be wearing something old , something new , something borrowed and something blue . As the first chords of the wedding march are played , the congregation will rise. Gasps will be heard as they catch a glimpse of the bride in her gorgeous wedding gown. The mother of the bride will calmly view this whole event, though tears will blur her vision. She will be overcome with sentiment at her daughters apparent happiness. The picture will be one that will embody hope for the future of humanity.

　　As the couple exchange wedding vows they will be affirming their love and making a commitment to each other. All the spectators are there to wish them well.

　　As the time approaches, I think back to other family weddings over many years. My older sisters were all married in the same church and as brides they carried a white Bible decorated with tiny roses. The receptions for their weddings were all held in the same church basement, as there was no large banquet hall in the local area. The feast was usually catered by a group of church members.

　　Todays wedding reception will be held in an arena that will be decorated with just the right amount of fall flowers in wonderful arrays to give it dignity yet a touch of glamour. The table decorations will be a masterpiece. One of the table decorations will be small pumpkins, used as containers for flowers that were collected from family gardens, surrounded by a large wreath made from long stalks of wheat. There will be a few coloured leaves placed inside the wreath. Maybe they will use oak and maple leaves to show the splendour of the autumn colours. The colour of the outfits that the bridesmaids are wearing will be fall colours as well. The ingenious decorations will be appreciated by the many guests attending the festivities. At each place setting there will be a special paper napkin with the bride and grooms name printed on it and the date of their wedding. It will be carefully folded placed on top and of a linen napkin. This will be one of the souvenirs the guests will have to commemorate the special wedding day. Also at each place will be a few after dinner mints for the guests. A miniature tree will also be placed at each persons place. The intent is for the guests to take the little tree home and transplant it to a special place. In this way, our environment is also improved and the tree will become a living tribute to the young couple.

　　The groom will carry her across the threshold as is customary for a young couple as they begin their new life together. The honeymoon plans will take them to the west coast of Canada. They will have a week of privacy far away from friends and family. They will inhabit a condominium in the town of Whistler, British Columbia, in the Rocky Mountains. They will feel as if they are royalty living in a mansion in this little bit of paradise on earth. Thereafter, they will return home to Ontario where they will reside.

　　Their original plan to spend their honeymoon on board a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea was abandoned when world circumstances dictated that our country Canada was a safer choice.

　　Earlier this month, as I thought about the forthcoming marriage, and knew that I would be unable to attend, I decided to write a message to the young couple. The intent was that the message would be read aloud during the wedding reception. In the message, I wished them well and urged them to cherish each other every day. (1083 words)

　　UNIT 2

　　Lets Dress Up--Its Halloween

　　From early childhood getting dressed up is connected with a special pastime in North America, called Halloween. Halloween is celebrated on the last night of October, when the air is crisp and snow is not far off. Every young child is acquainted with this exciting tradition.

　　On the last day of October when dinner is finished, children hurry to dress up in a costume. Darkness comes early at this time of year and caution must be practiced, foremost by the children who are going from house to house, trick or treat. Parents warn their children not to dart out in front of cars. In all the excitement it is easy for children to become distracted and ignore safety rules.

　　Planning what your costume will be, ahead of time, is part of the fun of the evening. Many mothers will spend time fabricating outfits for their little girls who suddenly turn into circus clowns, beautiful ballet dancers or weird colorful bugs. Fathers may help their sons construct a costume of foil armor. Little boys often enjoy pretending they are in the army so on Halloween it is possible to see squads of lieutenants and sergeants marching along in the dark. We affiliate this celebration with the supernatural so some children may choose to wear a skeleton costume bearing a skull and crossbones, or even a monster costume. The choice of wardrobe for the evening is really limitless. Witches can be seen riding on broomsticks across well-illuminated intersections. Earlier in the evening they may have concocted a witchs brew to quench their thirst for their arrival home. Ghosts can be heard groaning and moaning while they glide along city streets. Beautiful butterflies flutter by on their way to a party. Pirates carrying swords and pistols roam about, patches over one eye. Small aliens search for a new home here on Earth. Wearing a cape and mask allows a child to become Superman for a few hours and enter the world of fantasy. An ethnic flavor is introduced as a band of gypsies dance along under a bright full moon. Of course you can always see a certain number of Native American costumes, the buckskin jackets and dresses decorated with fringe and beads.

　　Some youngsters choose to decorate only their faces with grease paint instead of wearing masks. In many ways this is safer for a child, making visibility clearer. At the same time a mask allows them to remain anonymous to all but their closest friends.

　　Usually, on the night before Halloween, family members gather together to carve a pumpkin. On Halloween night the candle lit face of the pumpkin shines from each home welcoming the little ghosts and goblins to call. Parents usually escort small children around their own neighborhood helping to keep them safe. Small children only visit random houses, their parents friends mostly, while older children knock at every door.

　　Crowding onto the front porch of the house the children rap at the door and chant the refrain trick or treat. Householders distribute candies, apples, peanuts, or any edible treat into decorated wooden six quart baskets, or plastic bags. They may be asked to recite a poem or sing a song before receiving their treat. Some lucky children may receive cookies from a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies. On arriving home the children will dump all the junk candy out onto the floor to examine their loot. Usually there is a great racket as brothers and sisters compare what goodies they have collected.

　　Adults, too, like to join in Halloween celebrations by attending small house parties or large group gatherings at halls or arenas. They may play the old traditional games such as bobbing for apples, which float in tubs of water, telling ghost stories and visiting a haunted house. Everyone seems to get enjoyment from being slightly afraid.

　　If you live in the country the hooting of an owl or even the howl of a wolf underlines the spooky atmosphere of Halloween evening. Clouds scuttle across the face of the moon and the flap of a birds wings can be heard as it settles on the bare branches of a tree. Eyes gleam in the night as a black cat crosses your path. Bats swoop about in the dark startling those who are nervous.

　　On this evening it is not necessary to be extravagant to have a good time. A little imagination and a sense of fun will create a memory of Halloween night for many years. (751words) 　　UNIT 3

　　Gardening

　　One of the quiet joys of life in the southern part of Ontario, Canada, is gardening. Whether pursued as a hobby or solely to improve the esthetic value of ones home, the pleasure derived is only exceeded by the therapeutic benefit. The exercise involved in working in a garden is helpful in keeping people in good physical condition.

　　It has become a ritual for homeowners to spend late winter weekends browsing through seed catalogues while sitting on their couch. They make lists of items they wish to purchase and often make notations right on the catalogue as they make decisions about this years garden.

　　If they order early, there is usually a discount coupon, allowing a percentage of the cost to be deducted from the price. Often the coupon needs to be detached from the catalogue and mailed to the company along with the order. This is an extra bonus for the consumer. The investment cost required is nominal when the amount of pleasure generated is considered. The seed companies will usually warrant the plants, and often a refund is offered if the plants do not thrive. The shipment from the seed companys warehouse is awaited with eager anticipation. Its appearance means that spring will soon arrive.

　　The glossy pages of the catalogues provide a preview of the visual delights that can be grown. Pictures show an array of flowers that dazzle the eye. There are monochromatic displays as well as others that are a fusion of the complete spectrum of the rainbows colors. Also included in the publication are pictures and descriptions of vegetables, shrubs, and trees.

　　Avid gardeners subscribe to magazines that specialize in articles and ads about this enjoyable pastime and people literally read each issue from cover to cover.

　　Descriptions of plants include implicit instructions on whether to plant them in sun or shade. Specification as to the amount of irrigation required is also stated. Elaborate irrigation systems are sometimes installed or a trench for improving the water flow is used. Controls are needed on irrigation systems because if the ground becomes too saturated the soil in the garden will be too muddy to allow anyone to work in it until it dries out. If there is too much water constantly, the garden will become a swamp and impossible to cultivate.

　　Geographic location is important for plants. Certain plants are only suitable for propagation close to the equator. Others need to be several degrees of latitude away from the equator. Longitude is also a factor and most companies clearly state the conditions that will provide the optimum chances for the plants survival. Canadians grow tulips imported from Holland and they do well in the Southern Ontario climate.

　　Because it is late spring before plants can survive outdoors in Southern Ontario, it is common for people to start their plants indoors. Seeds are planted in small containers and continue to grow indoors until the appropriate size is achieved. Sometimes ultraviolet light is used to encourage plant growth. When the mercury rises and the danger of frost is past, the plants are then transplanted to the garden or to a flowerbed.

　　Plants are nourished from the soil, but to provide optimum food, fertilizer can be applied to encourage vigorous growth. Sometimes fertilizer is diluted with water while other kinds are dispersed with a spreader that flings the fertilizer granules in a small radius around the plants. The water soluble fertilizer will then be absorbed into the soil the next time it rains. Just as people need minerals, such as calcium and zinc, to be healthy, plants also need minerals but phosphorous and nitrogen are better food for them.

　　Some gardeners plan their garden with meticulous attention to detail. They choose colors that will complement each other and design their garden as if they were painting on a canvas. Others are more spontaneous and simply visit a nursery and purchase plants that appeal to them. Often gardeners have a trademark plant that is their specialty. Perhaps they enjoy the velvet texture of the leaves, or maybe the flowers color attracts them.

　　The varieties of gardens are endless. Terrace gardening has become popular. With a herbal garden, cooks enjoy being able to use fresh herbs from their garden to add zest to their favorite dishes. They simply visit their garden and clip a few pieces of the herb they wish to use.

　　Every garden is as individual as its owner. Gardens come in all shapes and sizes. Some are in the shape of a rectangle, while others are circular or irregular in shape. Some gardeners like the appearance of an asymmetrical shape while others work to achieve symmetry in their gardens. For vegetable gardens, the most popular shape is rectangular and vegetables are usually planted in a linear fashion. This method makes it easier to cultivate between the rows of plants. You could mistake some gardens for a meadow when the gardener chooses to include only wildflowers as a choice of vegetation. Including a pond in a garden is popular too.

　　Entrepreneurs are always looking for innovations and gadgets that will attract the attention of devoted gardeners and induce them to spend their money. It has become a huge industry in the last few years, as the baby boomers reach retirement age and have more time to pursue hobbies such as gardening. There are new products patented every year to tempt the gardener.

　　It is possible to buy a kit that contains a complete set of tools needed by the home gardener. Unfortunately, often the quality is poor and the product is a fraud. Instead of having something good to work with, the purchase turns out to be junk.

　　If you want to flatter a gardener, and boost their ego at the same time, summon up the courage to simply ask if you can swap plants. Of course, it will give them a thrill if you also compliment them on the hardiness of their plants as compared to yours. They might even try to console you on your lack of competence as a gardener because your plants are not as sturdy as their plants.

　　Irrespective of the competence of the gardener, anyone who augments the number of plants grown is helping to conserve our planet by averting erosion. This pays great dividends for everyone as it also serves to protect the ozone layer.

　　Some people erect barricades to keep small animals from attacking the plants. Squirrels love to dig up flower bulbs. They find them a tasty treat.

　　It is common to see ceramic fixtures or figurines in a garden. Even the untrained eye can tell that the imitations are a fake, yet properly placed, they add to the intrinsic beauty. A rain gauge, attached by a bracket to a fence, is a common sight and is used to enable the gardener to diagnose the moisture level of the soil around the plants and determine if they need more water. If nature does not provide enough rain, then the gardener will use a plastic or rubber hose to provide more irrigation. With a twist of a knob, or by moving a lever, the thirst of the plants for moisture can be quenched.

　　What greater pleasure, than to work in your garden and as you clip the overgrown plants back to size or prune branches of fruit trees, hear the buzz of bees? You know that they are enjoying your garden as they extract the pollen from the blooms. You relish the feeling that you are one with nature. The hum of insects as they share the garden is more pleasurable than music from a stereo or a symphony to a devoted gardener. In addition, the scent of the flowers is an integral part of the joy of spending time working in a garden.

　　The irony of the situation is that nature sometimes conspires against the gardener, and a hailstorm can riddle beautiful plants, shredding their leaves in minutes. Hurricanes can uproot even the largest trees although this is an event that seldom occurs in Southern Ontario. Tornadoes are more likely in this area. Parasites can attack plants and threaten their survival. Any number of things can become a plague. It is often difficult to discern exactly what it is that is destroying the precious plants. Any number of complications can shatter the gardeners dream of surpassing last years accomplishment. An authentic gardener will not brood about the disappointment for long. Even as the disaster is occurring, you might overhear the gardener murmur Theres always next year. (1459 words) 　　UNIT 4

　　A Canadian Family Story

　　My story begins in Newfoundland where my brother and I were born during the Second World War. The island of Newfoundland, which was originally a British colony, became the newest province of Canada in 1949, the same year that the Peoples Republic of China was born.

　　Our mother was born and raised in Newfoundland. During the War , she worked in St. Johns, the capital city, where she met a young Canadian sailor from Ontario. He was a member of the crew of a Royal Canadian Navy ship that was part of one of the convoys that escorted supply ships across the Atlantic Ocean to Europe during the war. They fell in love and subsequently, got married. The rest is history, so to speak. Our family moved to Ontario in late 1945, just after the war ended.

　　In 1999, acting on impulse, my brother and I decided to take our mother to Newfoundland for a visit. It had been almost fifty years since we had last visited our mothers outport where she grew up. It was also the 50th anniversary of Newfoundlands becoming part of Canada.

　　In 1950, I was six and my brother was five when we last visited our mothers childhood home. At that time, Irelands Eye was a vibrant, quaint fishing village hugging the rocky shore of a small, enclosed harbour. There was no electricity. There were no roads, no automobiles, and few signs of automation of any type. There were oil lamps and wood stoves in the homes and mere footpaths between the aggregate of small communities on the hilly island, also named Irelands Eye. We can still see and hear the inboard motorboats, putt putting into the harbour, hauling their days catch of fish. The image of hardy fishermen with pitchforks hoisting and tossing the codfish up to the stilted platforms from the bowels of the boats is still quite vivid. The aroma of salted, drying codfish, lingers still.

　　What I remember best, of almost half a century ago, was going out with my Uncle Fred in his boat to fish. That particular day, we were huddled together and lashed to other boats, just outside of the harbour. I can still hear the lively gossip between my uncle and the other fishermen, above the rippling and splashing of the waves against the hulls of the boats. I remember the boats heaving periodically, on the huge gently rolling waves. My Uncle Fred had only one arm, but amazingly, he could do everything as if he had two hands. He could even roll a cigarette and light it.

　　These are my memories of the quaint Newfoundland glory days gone by. It was a very hard life in those out ports, but a life romantically cherished by most of those who lived it. Our mother was not feeling up to the trip at the time we were ready to leave, but insisted that my brother and I go on this odyssey. We would later provide her with pictures, a written account, and videotape of the trip. Although we toured other parts of Newfoundland, including an overnight stay on the French Islands of St. Pierre and Miquilon, just off the south coast of Newfoundland, our main objective was to visit Irelands Eye. This necessitated finding water transportation. We managed to arrange for a boat to take us on the half hour trip to the island. As it turned out, the married couple who ferried us over to the island was actually a couple of our distant cousins, whom we had never met.

　　We had intended to have our cousins drop us off on the island and pick us up a few hours later. However, either because we were newly found cousins, or they were typically hospitable Newfoundlanders, or they thought that my brother and I would get lost, they wanted to stay with us. Probably all three factors influenced their decision. They were absolutely fabulous.

　　They got caught up in what my brother and I were trying to do. They were very knowledgeable about the island and the people who had once lived there. Clutching a narrative of the island, written by another of our cousins, the forgotten history of that special place became more coherent to the four of us.

　　As we entered Irelands Eyes small harbour, which was guarded, by a family of hawks in a nest high on a rocky point, a weird sensation came over us. There, in front of us, was the place we visited fifty years before, and about which we had heard and read so much throughout our adult lives. We thought, what an aesthetically breathtaking sight! The glittering sun, on that day, gave everything a picture-postcard image. This was indeed a slice of paradise. The ruins of a few remaining buildings that dotted the hillsides and shoreline and the once dominant St. Georges Church on the hill at the end of the harbour, aroused in us an exciting sense of history and of our heritage. Looking out over the harbour from the hill by the church at the extinct community, revived memories of fifty years before.

　　With a greater clarity of the knowledge of the area, we walked from the church a little farther inland to what used to be the post office and the school that our mother attended, the skeletal shells of which were still standing precariously. From there, stopping periodically to eat some edible berries, we struggled behind our cousins through the heavily brush and shrub covered footpaths to Black Duck Cove to visit the cemetery where our grandmother, whom we never knew, was buried. This sacred ground was in very bad condition, with many badly corroded gravestones buried under brush and long grass. After searching for a few minutes in the midst of tangled vegetation, we found our grandmothers resting place beside which we paid our respects. It was a good thing that our cousins stayed with us, as the footpaths that traversed the island, were overgrown with brush. It would have been virtually impossible for my brother and me, to walk to the other communities on the island.

　　We made our way back to the church on the hill and descended to the boat for a half hour boat ride to the other side of the island. Sailing through a number of islets, we arrived at what remains of the small village of Traytown, where our grandparents had lived. There, we met some more long lost relatives at a small cottage. One, a bit of an eccentric, who now lives in Toronto but takes summer refuge in Traytown, showed us the remnants of what had once been our grandparents house. Beside these ruins, was the still flourishing cluster of wild rose bushes, planted there many years ago by our step grandmother. A lot of people, many whom were more lost cousins, continually dropped in or gathered on the porch outside.

　　After a cup of tea and some more chitchat and some comic relief, we made our departure for the mainland. On the way, we passed other inlets with ghost communities on Irelands Eye. To add to the excitement of that special day, my brother spotted a humpback whale quite close, between the boat and the island.

　　Our visit to Irelands Eye was a bittersweet experience for us. On the one hand, there was a sense of being at the very place where our relatives and ancestors had lived, worked and played. On the other hand, there was a sense of agonizing loss of what were once thriving communities on the island. It was difficult to reconcile the past with the present, after a gap of fifty years of chronic degeneration of the communities. Today, the area is notorious for smuggling. However, our mission was invaluable in that we were able to find out more about ourselves. The entire expedition to Newfoundland was a major highlight in each of our lives. It tugged at our emotions at every turn. The people of Newfoundland, especially those of genetic connection, couldnt do enough for us. It was really like coming home, but then, that has always been the nature of Newfoundland courtesy, even to non-Newfoundlanders. It was reassuring to see that the Newfoundland charm has transcended time. It has endured so many changes since Confederation in 1949. My brother and I, eternally, will be Newfoundlanders and hope to go down home more often in the years to come. (1442 words) 　　UNIT 5

　　The Fraud

　　Flushed with excitement, Kate stepped into the spatial vestibule and was immediately dazzled by the scene before her. The inlaid marble floor paved the way to a circular staircase rising three levels above her. In a fountain in the center of the entryway stood a bronze dolphin balancing on its tail, its snout pointed to the lofty domed, stained glass skylight forty feet above. A massive chandelier, luminous in the bright sunlight, cast rainbow fairies dancing through the pink, green, and gold floral patterns of the floor and around the snowy white walls.

　　Before she could fully appreciate the beauty of the intricate plaster work decorating the edges of the shallow niches installed in the walls to frame the numerous paintings, or, indeed, to appreciate the canvases themselves, her host, Victor Stone, approached. Small by North American standards, he was perfectly proportioned. Slightly balding at the forehead, his silver hair curved onto the collar of his pale blue shirt at the nape of his neck. Laughing blue eyes startled her with their clarity. A straight, aristocratic nose rose to meet his slightly arched brows. His carefully manicured hands bore a single gold pinkie ring. He held out his hand to take hers.

　　Thank you so much for coming, Kate.

　　I am glad you could make it, he said cheerfully. She had never met this charming little man before and knew him by reputation only. Among his contemporaries, he was known as a shrewd entrepreneur, able to diagnose at a glance, the prospects of those seeking his backing. She was anxious to learn why he had invited her to come to meet him at his home.

　　Thanks for asking me. Nice place you have here. She felt stupid saying something so absurd, but she was, at that moment, stumped. Her ego wouldnt let her admit shed never in her whole life, been so impressed by a foyer. She hoped that he would realize shed had little experience with the elite, take pity on her, and show her around.

　　Would you like to see more of the house? he asked, politely.

　　Would I? You bet! She was happy he gave no indication that he thought she was not in his bracket. She left her briefcase on the settee near the door and followed him through the foyer to a stairway to a stairway leading to a lower level of the house.

　　They began the tour in the wine cellar. A heavy, double thick door opened to reveal row upon row of gleaming glass bottles of vintage wines, all lying on their sides, cradled by the solid oak racks. The steady hum of machinery broke the silence of the insulated room. Victor explained that it was necessary to control the ventilation, temperature and humidity of the cellar to achieve optimum conditions for conserving the flavors of the expensive wines.

　　The small but luxurious audio-visual theater was adjacent to the wine cellar. Leather upholstered reclining chairs were casually arrayed about the room, all with an unimpaired view of the retractable screen. The stereo, silent at that moment, was state-of-the-art, with speakers tactically installed for maximizing sound effects. Black walnut wood paneling and a baffled ceiling averted the possibility of overly loud entertainment disturbing others in the mansion. Sliding glass doors led from the lowest level of the living area to the enclosed kidney-shaped swimming pool. Turquoise and white ceramic tiles outlined with gold covered the deck area. Pillars of quartz topped with milk glass spheres provided illumination should anyone choose to swim after dark. A changing booth was discretely hidden behind a screen of ornamental floor plants and cascading vines. Here, too, a baffled ceiling prevented the hollow resonance of the pool room from disturbing others.

　　At the moment, the games room was arranged for gambling. An authentic roulette wheel, a craps table for dice, and various card tables were set up for a benefit evening that was being held the following night. Checkers, chess and other board games augmented the games of chance.

　　Comfortable furniture and soft lighting lent a romantic atmosphere to the terrace garden. Kate had noticed earlier that Victor had a slight limp. As they progressed on their tour, she realized he was quite lame on the right side and needed to rest. They sat to chat for a few minutes. How much do you know about me, Kate? he asked.

　　Only what Ive read. And what I have discerned in the past half hour. I think you are a man who has made your home into a diversion from the real world. Your taste is implicit, subtle. Everything I have seen has been chosen with a keen eye, not to overwhelm, but to invite. I think you choose things for their intrinsic value, things that are esthetically pleasing to you. I dont think there could be an imitation or a fake item in this whole place. You love your home and enjoy sharing it with others. Am I right?

　　You are perceptive! Come. Lets go to the sitting room and have a cocktail. He led the way back into the library with its mahogany shelves filled with leather bound matched sets of first editions and volumes of encyclopedia. On a sturdy table under a reading lamp an illuminated manuscript with gold metallic page edging was lying open to display its vibrant art. Kate felt compelled to mention this beautiful piece. He said an obscure monk during the Renaissance had copied and illustrated the Book of Revelations. It had been quite shabby when it first came into his possession but he had it restored and planned to donate it to a museum. The door to a powder room stood ajar. Inside Kate noticed, again, the careful attention to detail manifest in the rest of the house. The doorknob was hand painted porcelain. The ivory-colored fixtures were shell-shaped and gold-trimmed. A large bowl of sweetly scented flowers was centered on the vanity. Next to the flowers sat a piece of hand-carved fossilized ebony.

　　Kate was stunned by the size of the spacious sitting room. Several groupings of furniture lent themselves to seating as few as two guests or as many as ten. Here, too, ornamental plasterwork decorated the walls and ceilings. The raspberry colored velvet upholstery covering the couches and chairs complemented the pale green oriental carpets and lightly textured draperies. The gold-colored lamps with their creamy white shades, the paintings in their ornate alcoves, and the open fireplace with family pictures on the mantel, gave Kate an overwhelming feeling of comfort and peace.

　　She relished the novelty and thrill of having been summoned to this prestigious mans home. The sheer beauty of the place far surpassed her expectations. However, she was becoming suspicious about the reason for this visit. Now that she had received an orientation to his home, and notwithstanding her first impressions of the man, she was anxious to learn why she was here. What could a mere reporter do for this rich, influential man?

　　He began to speak soberly, contradicting his earlier spontaneity. I will tell you a story you may have difficulty believing, he said, softly. I was not born into this lifestyle. It is ironic that there is such a discrepancy between what I was and what I am. My father left the United States when I was about two years old. He ran a junk store in the slums of Winnipeg when I was a kid. He was a vulgar man but he knew how to fool people into thinking they were buying something rare or valuable. It was under his tutelage that I learned to be a fraud.

　　I decided at an early age that if there was a shortcut to success, I could bypass the complications of getting there by the conventional methods. I was like a hurricane, rushing forward without consideration for the rules. If its any consolation, I didnt intentionally harm anyone in the process. I was able to stay within the parameters of the law, but just barely. I bought and sold used furniture before going into the antique business. When I bought, I always paid a fraction of the potential worth of the goods. When I sold, I always made a profit. I was able to upgrade my stock with almost every transaction. In time, I had a warehouse full of merchandise.

　　I didnt flatter myself by thinking I hadnt muddied the waters a bit. I knew I had probably stepped on a few toes, but I was on a roll. I had the momentum and rejoiced in my success. As long as the money kept coming in, anything was permissible.

　　One day, I received a visit from a rather important patron of the arts. He had an interesting proposition for me. He held the patent and trademark for the prototype of an innovative way to determine the age of a painting using ultraviolet light. He would sell them to me for the nominal fee of a nickel if I would reciprocate by doing him a favor. I was to include one of his personal paintings in my next shipment of antiques going to New York. At first, I thought he was mocking me, but he gave me his oath that he just wanted to ensure the painting would arrive at its destination safely, and, because it would be a part of an antique shipment, it would be exempt from import duty. It was a provocative offer, and even though I remained skeptical, I agreed.

　　A few days later, a crated painting arrived and was added to my goods ready for delivery to New York. I had always subscribed to the theory that if something appeared to be too good to be true, it probably was. However, my greed prevailed and the painting was on its way.

　　I was unaware at the time that my fortunes were about to go into a downward spiral. My benefactor, it turned out, was a man with a grudge against me. Irrespective of the fact that I felt a deal we had made years before had been fair, he felt I had cheated him. I was about to be the recipient of his wrath.

　　When my agent in New York went to customs to retrieve the shipment, he was greeted by a squad of police waiting to detain him on charges of smuggling cocaine. It appeared there was a bit of a discrepancy between what I was told was in the crate and the actual contents. The drugs were in a hidden compartment in the crate.

　　I admit it was naive of me to believe I had no enemies, but I didnt know anyone would go to this degree to prove how much he despised me. Hitherto, I had gone through life thinking that when two people agreed to a deal, if one of them got the better of the other, it was fair, because they did agree. Now I was learning that if you take advantage of some people, even with their permission, you aggravate them to seek revenge. I cant refute my recklessness.

　　Almost seven years have elapsed since that time. My agent took responsibility for the crime and went to jail for five years. I felt guilty as hell, but I continued to pay him by sending the money to his family. I even withheld extra in a bonus account to give to him when he was released. I also gave up my business and began to help others start their businesses. In time, the guilt I felt subsided. I put my energies into stepping into the breach to help those less fortunate than I. To my amazement, my luck started to fluctuate upward and I flourished. All you see here today, I have accumulated since that time.

　　Now, it seems, my enemy has decided to reclaim his power over me. He has reported the crime and the erroneous imprisonment of my agent and named me as the person responsible for the offence. I had never changed my citizenship, so the F. B. I. wants me deported so they can prosecute me in New York.

　　I hope I can induce you, through your column, to tell my story. Next week I have to appear before a magistrate for the preliminary hearing. If Im not mistaken, public pressure might enable me to avoid deportation at least. I am more likely to get a fair trial here than there. My record as a good citizen may offset the perception that I may be a criminal. What do you think? Will you help?

　　Kate had listened to this synopsis in silence but her outrage was building. While his story seemed plausible, this plea for her assistance didnt quite fit. With his financial resources, he could hire the best legal team in the country. She realized she had to detach herself from her first impressions and extract fact from fiction. Why didnt she believe him? Suddenly, it came to her. Exposition of this version of Victors tale would not only gain him public sympathy, it would invalidate any testimony against him.

　　Nothing could constrain her when she realized she had literally been taken in by his story. If you were innocent, why werent you the defendant? If you were innocent all those years ago, why did your agent go to prison for you? Why did it take so long for your enemy to turn you in? The statute of limitations for that offence has expired. I believe this has been a pathetic attempt to get me to mediate your case in the press. I think you have always been an integral player in the criminal world and your past has caught up with you. My cardinal sin was allowing myself to be reeled in by your tales of what a model citizen you are.

　　Kate could feel herself getting dizzy and light-headed, surprised by the audacity she had, talking to anyone in that manner. Before she lost complete control, she would have to get out of there. She stood, turned, and marched toward the door. As she began to open the front door, she looked back. Victor stood beside his chair, pale and shaken. You admitted you were a fraud in your youth. You are still a fraud! I will write your story...my version! My guess is that the eventual verdict will be guilty! (2402 words) 　　UNIT 6

　　The Pasture

　　Night settled, thick with the acrid odors of gunpowder and blood. No moon meant firing at muzzle flashes, an inexact method by which to combat ones foe, but the enemy had no advantage either. With artillery fire blanketing the field of battle, Jack had no opportunity to go to Mikes aid. He poked his head over the rim of the trench to see if he could spot Mikes corpse. He knew he was dead. He had heard his scream of pain when he was hit. His agonized moans had grown weaker and less frequent and finally ceased about ten minutes ago.

　　The regiment had been under heavy bombardment for two days, without respite. He had been too late to stop Mike as he propelled himself out of the foxhole and staggered as he hit the muddy terrain. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Mike had started to break yesterday. He was becoming bizarre, talking about his patriotic duty to expel the enemy from these shores. Paradoxically, just before he hopped over the edge of the trench he scorned the day he had heeded the call to enlist.

　　It pained him to realize that his one friend in this ungodly war had betrayed him by dying. Soldiers dont often make friends with one another, knowing they might die. He and Mike were different. They had known each other since they were children. Mike was the best man when Jack and Lily walked down the aisle just a week before they left the dock and crossed the channel to engage the enemy.

　　Clouds tumbled and overlapped one another as the wind began to freshen. It was getting colder now. The prospect of another night of rain, or perhaps even snow, made Jack quiver with dread. Blood tinged water was beginning to crust over with ice. He could feel his toes and fingers stiffen as the temperature dropped. Maybe Mike was better off than he. At least the cold wouldnt bother him any more.

　　Suddenly, comets of light began to streak across the night sky. They were using flares! The increased tempo of cannon fire coming from the left flank, shattering the earth around them, could only mean the enemy had sensed their weakness, and was coming in for the kill. They were heading straight for the underbelly!

　　Jacks rifle misfired. The whole corps had been issued new guns a few days before this campaign had started. It wasnt long before they discovered that the alloy used in the barrels couldnt endure prolonged firing, causing the shell casings to adhere in the bore. How could he repel the enemy without a weapon?

　　Jack felt a stab of pain in his right thigh. The ground around him ruptured. Jerking from side to side, he tried to dodge falling rocks and the clods of dirt raining down upon him. He slumped into a prone posture as he felt himself shoved from behind by an unknown force that felt as if it might have been a racing locomotive. The last thing he heard, before his world was overturned, was a chorus of screams.

　　Am I dead? Where am I? Where is everybody? Cognitively, Jack realized he was still functioning physiologically so that meant he was still alive, but for how long? He couldnt move. Maybe the impact had fractured his spine and he was paralyzed. He tried，analytically，to assess the damage incurred by moving his limbs, one by one, in a clockwise direction, starting with his right arm. Everything appeared able to be mobilized but for some reason he couldnt get up off the ground. Everything went black again.

　　Jack led his horse by the reins as they stepped onto the overpass bridging the gap between the plateaus. In the distance, he could see a twelve point buck grazing in the pasture, silhouetted against the waning sunset. Out of nowhere, a bull came charging across the meadow toward him. He tried to run but his feet were pegged to the bridge.

　　Drifting in and out of consciousness, Jack tried to make sense of what had happened to him. He seemed to be in a cavity under the ground. The earth was compacted on his legs but he thought he might be able to rotate his body enough to make himself a little more comfortable. Was that a shaft of light he could see through the groove between the fingers of his left hand covering his eyes? He groped to clear a tiny bit more space for himself. The shutters of his consciousness closed again.

　　The galaxy was being probed by lunar modules shuttling between Earth and the other planets. As a member of a federation of geologists, Jack and his team had to follow the seam of ore to its source, a pasture on a distant asteroid.

　　Once again, Jack regained lucidity. Wow, he thought, that was like a bad paperback novel about astronomy! He sniffed the air. It was foul with the smell of death but qualitatively able to sustain life. Why was it so quiet? Was he deaf? Was the battle over? Was everyone dead? The weight on his legs was becoming oppressive.

　　Lily lay back in the soft, green grass of the pasture. White daisies, golden brown-eyed Susans, prickly blue vipers bugloss, and frilly Queen Annes lace surrounded her. She beckoned to him from what seemed like miles away. He hiked through the grass calling her name. She began to stroll away from him into the distance. He had to reach her! He loved her so! If they couldnt marry, he would make her his mistress! Nothing could extinguish the flame of his love! He would cling to that until his dying day.

　　Lying stationary was taking its toll on Jacks circulation. His feet and hands were numb. Something was tickling his nose. He managed to tilt away from the irritant, whatever it was. He was so thirsty! He tried to lubricate his lips with saliva but had none. His bladder felt like a separate entity that would overflow. He could stall the urge to void no longer and allowed the urine to flow out of him. What did it matter now? He was as good as dead anyway.

　　The fort stood in the center of the pasture. A moat filled with sharks protected its walls from any possible intruders. Jack pedaled his bicycle as fast as he could. The sharks whipped back and forth so quickly they created foam on the surface of the water. He had to cross the drawbridge before it was raised, segregating him from his regiment and his pregnant wife, Lily. She saw him approaching and skipped onto the bridge to greet him. The bridge was rising. The sharks were in frenzy! He rode as if the hounds of hell were after him. He had to reach her!

　　His right arm was wedged against a rock. No matter how hard he tried, he couldnt wrench it free. This was getting tiresome. He felt a stitch in his right side. Thats all he needed now to die from a ruptured appendix! He had wriggled enough to increase the size of the slot in which he was trapped. Were those voices he was hearing? He wasnt deaf!

　　When he fought his way to the surface of consciousness once again, he was being carried on a litter over the inverted battlefield. Bodies were strewn everywhere. The stretcher-bearers stumbled over the rough ground but maintained control of their human cargo as they made their way to the field hospital.

　　The fuse leading to the dynamite in the stern of the oil tanker burned so rapidly that Jack knew the ship would explode before he could reach the hatch to extinguish the flame. The olive green ship was almost within his reach when it blew up. He felt as if he were on a grill. His face was aflame. His body felt as if the skin had been ripped from it. He wanted to die before the pain grew worse.

　　His forehead felt cool. He opened his eyes slowly, painfully. A white-clad nurse sponged his face gently. As she became aware of his gaze, she stopped her ministrations and offered him a sip of water. Take it easy, she whispered. You mustnt drink too quickly. Too much, too fast will give you nasty cramps.

　　Jack was aware of bandages on his muscular arms and casts on both legs. Intravenous tubing carried a clear fluid into his veins. Consciousness was still transient. Dreams of a strange pasture mingled with reality and continued to haunt his sleep. He understood he was on a hospital ward, but where? And how did he get here?

　　The pretty young nurse was back. We cabled your wife. She knows you were injured but are on the mend.

　　How did they find me? Jack asked.

　　A patrol looking for survivors found you buried in the foxhole. You were calling Lily!They started digging and there you were. You were stabilized at the field hospital before they could bring you here. We scrubbed you up and started to you with I. V. therapy. You were very dehydrated and suffering from urinary retention and renal failure. Your kidneys may never function normally again. The good news is that you survived, she explained.

　　A stray strand of hair fell across Jacks cheek hiding the tears that crept from his eyes. He was grateful to have his life back. He silently saluted his friend. Mike hadnt been so lucky.

　　The cable from Lily arrived the next day. We have a son stop Born 05 Dec. stop Healthy stop Named him Michael stop I love you. Lily stop P.S. Dad bought the pasture and deeded it to Michael. (1630 words) 　　UNIT 7

　　The Decision

　　Dr. Sam said to me: I dont know how to say this, except to come right out with it, Miriam. The tests we did last week show that there are abnormalities with the fetus. I recommend you consider an abortion.

　　I sat, hands folded together in my lap, numbed by his words. The world around me disappeared as I strove to absorb the dreadful news Dr. Sam was giving me. His voice came to me as if spoken in a tunnel, hollow and echoing. Could this be true? The baby inside me, the miracle created by love, wasnt perfect!

　　Your baby has a condition known as Downs Syndrome. The problems you will face if you dont terminate this pregnancy could be overwhelming, especially now that Paul is no longer with you. Here I was, thirty nine years old, pregnant for the first time, and my doctor, my trusted friend, was telling me I should kill this innocent life in my womb. I knew I had to respond but words escaped me. Finally, I was able to speak. I need some time to consider my options. With all that has happened in the past month and a half, I dont want to do anything without knowing all I can about this.

　　You dont have long, Miriam. You are eleven weeks along and its dangerous to perform an abortion after twelve weeks, try not to prolong your decision.

　　Its too much for me to get my head around right now. I need to think. I promise Ill get back to you in a day or so. I left the office in a daze. What was I going to do? Where would I begin? Who, besides Dr. Sam, would be able to advise me? My parents were on the other side of the world, teaching in China. I felt that if I could talk to Mom, held in her comforting arms, she would give me some of her wisdom. If I could be face-to-face with Dad, he would give me strength. They were all I had left in my world. My husband, Paul, had been killed in a traffic accident six weeks ago. Mom and Dad had gone back to China a week after the funeral, when they thought I was able to cope with my loss. There was nowhere to turn.

　　I had to face reality. This was a decision I would make on my own. I needed to gather all the information I could about Downs syndrome. I wasted no time. I went to the library to begin my research. The steps to the future were in my hands.

　　The first medical journal I chose explained the causes of Downs syndrome. Normally, each egg and sperm cell contains 23 chromosomes, and, when they unite, 23 pairs or 46 in total. Occasionally, an accident occurs when the egg or sperm cell is forming, creating an extra chromosome number 21. This extra chromosome results in the features of Downs syndrome. In the past, this disorder was called Mongolism because of the facial characteristics including slanted eyes and a small, flattened nasal bridge. It is a common genetic birth defect affecting about one in 800 to 1000 births when the mother is 30 years of age. The odds of my having a Down syndrome increased to one in 100 because I was in my fortieth year.

　　There is no cure for this disorder. Neither is there any prevention. My child would be developmentally and physically retarded to a greater or lesser degree. She could have numerous health problems. It was unlikely she would ever marry and her having children was out of the question. Her life expectancy could be as little as 55 years.

　　Paul and I had been married for ten years and had always regretted the fact that I had been unable to conceive. After he died, I attributed my nausea, vomiting and lethargy to my grief, never suspecting that I might be pregnant. Poor Paul would never know that we would have a child together. This thought alone was what made me realize that I wouldnt be able to have an abortion, no matter what obstacles might be ahead of us.

　　I waited a day before calling Dr. Sam to inform him of my decision. I had to be sure! Miriam, I think I know why you want to go through with this pregnancy, but are you aware of the risks? I know my baby will be different.

　　I know she may be mentally and physically retarded. She may have developmental difficulties and problems with social acceptance. I do recognize that I am going to have to amend almost every facet of my life. I am prepared to do that. This is my final gift from Paul and I am determined to go through with this!

　　I thought you would feel that way. You have my utmost admiration and support. I will follow your pregnancy carefully but I want you to see a specialist in birth defects. I will refer you to Dr. Brown and would like you to make an appointment with her as soon as possible, he said. I knew then that I had made the right choice.

　　My pregnancy was not without its hardships, from morning sickness to swollen ankles, but I had no doubts about the decision I had made. My parents, when I told them what was going on with me, expressed their concerns but also their confidence in my decision and assured me they would be there when I delivered my baby.

　　Paula was born on a bright, cloudless, warm Tuesday morning in May. I was prepared to see a red, wrinkled, squalling infant. Instead, I saw very little. Because of the risks involved, Paula was delivered by Caesarian section. The doctors and nurses rushed her into an incubator to assess her before I caught a glimpse of her. I could see my parents on the other side of the operating room window, questions in their eyes. What was going on?

　　The nurses kept me comfortable and tried to alleviate my fears but half an hour passed before our questions were answered. My daughter had a severe heart defect. It could be corrected through surgery but not until she gained a little weight and strength. I understood in that moment that my life had changed forever.

　　I demanded to see her immediately, and as soon as I did, I fell in love. This most precious of all gifts was going to survive the obstacles ahead of her with my help. I knew in an instant that all my strength, love, and monetary resources were at her command. Nothing she wanted, needed, or even dreamed of, would ever be denied.

　　The heart surgery to correct a flawed valve was a resounding success. Fortunately, the common defects occurring in a majority of Downs syndrome children were absent in Paula. She has no intestinal malformations, hearing impairment, or severe visual problems.

　　We are truly blessed.

　　My parents adore this exceptional grandchild. Their expertise in teaching, nurturing, and parenting has been so welcome. I always knew they were there for me; now they are there for us.

　　I am aware of the sympathetic looks from strangers who dont know or understand the disorder afflicting my child. Their pity, for what they ascertain as my plight, is misplaced but understandable. I am sure that I, too, felt sorry for parents of what I thought of as imperfect children.

　　Paula is a delightful child. Her physical defects are apparent; there is no doubt she is different from other children. However, she goes to school with other children her age; she takes longer to learn things and has to work harder, but she is achieving all the milestones of growing children. Raising her is a challenge, as is the raising of any child. It isnt easy and it wont get easier.

　　As she grows and develops, there will be questions to answer, hurdles to cross, and goals to reach. Paula is different. She is aware that she is. It doesnt dismay her. She greets each day with a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eye.

　　Do I ever have doubts about my decision? No! My only regret is that Paul isnt here to share my joy in our wonderful daughter. (1391 words) 　　UNIT 8

　　Chinese-American Relations: A History

　　The Nineteenth Century to World War II The Nineteenth Century In the 19th century, the United States was a relative newcomer to the area of international affairs. Relations with China really began, not so subtly, in the 19th century with its discriminatory immigration policy against China. The Gold Rush of 1849 in California, the building of railroads, and the American industrial revolution of the second half of the 19th century, attracted many Chinese immigrants with dreams of the good life in America. At that time, it was perceived by most of the world, that America was the land of opportunity, success, and wealth.

　　As the Chinese population in the United States grew in size, pressures to limit the number of these coming into the United States became strong. Laws, such as placing a police tax on Chinese people in California in 1862 and The Chinese Exclusion Act passed in 1882, officially testified to blatant discrimination against Chinese people. The latter felt forced to congregate in areas of big cities, such as San Francisco, New York, and Boston. Chinatown soon became part of American urban vocabulary. It seemed that the timid Chinese were susceptible to being pushed around. It appeared that Chinese and other Oriental immigrants were not welcome with open arms, but were welcome only when hard labour was needed to do the toughest jobs, especially in railroad construction and in the new industries that were fast developing at the time. It would be well into the 20th century before such discriminatory laws would be suspended.

　　The Early Twentieth Century

　　During the second half of the 19th century, the United States was preoccupied with a civil war and a post civil war industrial revolution. American foreign policy with China did not really take form until 1899 and 1900. By the turn of the century, the United States was ascending as a major player in international affairs, especially in the western hemisphere. American foreign policy, at the time, focused mostly on Latin America. However, in 1899, the Americans saw economic opportunities in an already politically suppressed China. For decades, European countries had been reaping the economic benefits by exploiting of the countrys resources and markets while claiming chunks of territory as their own. It had become a closed club of the countries already established there.

　　The United States, fearing that China was about to officially partitioned, wanted access to those lucrative assets as well. American Secretary of State, John Hay, perhaps using some Big Stick and gunboat tactics, popular American strategies at the time, was well positioned to get the established foreign nations in China to conform to an agreement called the Open Door policy for China. This benchmark intervention by the United States, conferred on all countries, equal and impartial trade with all parts of China, while preserving the territorial and administrative integrity of the country. The American approach did little to respect Chinas customary opposition to foreign intrusion. To China, the United States was only one more country to bully it, to exploit its resources and sovereignty and, further, to deny it of its autonomy, integrity, and dignity. This collective foreign presence, boosted by American interests, diffused any hope for China to break the chains of humiliating foreign occupation. The Chinese were virtually captives or prisoners in their own country. The United States did not deviate far from this economic policy toward China, until the communist take over in 1949.

　　One could only imagine how the Chinese must have felt at the turn of the century. Could any American imagine a scenario of the shoe being on the other foot ? How would Americans have felt if Chinese gunboats patrolled the Mississippi River up to St. Louis, a major city in the heart of America? What if the Chinese could come and go anywhere in the United States, being completely immune to all American laws. Could Americans accept Chinatown in Boston of San Francisco being under Chinese law, and displaying signs with such captions as No Americans or dogs allowed? What if Manhattan Island and California were annexed by China? Would Americans tolerate their own officials being in collusion with, and being bribed by Chinese authorities, to let all of above to take place? One would think not. Is it any wonder that imperialism had become such an abominable term to the Chinese people?

　　The Chinese have made some conscientious attempts to fight back, in efforts to defy foreign presence in China, but without much support during the slack reign of the Qing Emperor and the Dowager Empress.

　　The Imperial family, for so long, had been extremely self-indulgent. It paid little attention to the realities of what was happening inside China. For so long, the nations policies revolved around the whims of the Imperial Family.

　　With reliance on its own resources, a secret society, called the Order of Literary Patriotic Harmonious Fists, made one last desperate attempt at revenge, to rid the country of foreigners. In 1900, these Boxers as they were called, stubbornly engaged the foreign powers in conflict. The former tore up railway tracks, attacked Chinese Christians, besieged foreign delegations, and eventually slaughtered over three hundred foreigners. The Americans collaborated with the Japanese, consolidated forces and easily overwhelmed the Boxers. The latter crumbled under the pressure of foreign superiority and its own deficiencies in equipment and organization. The victors placed severe controls on the crippled Chinese Government and imposed heavy indemnities of billions of dollars. The fact that the foreigners were interested, only in protecting their own interests, was abundantly clear.

　　Aside from discriminatory immigration policy against Chinese, the U. S. had no official direct political or diplomatic relations with China until the Second World War. The United States took on a much cherished isolationist approach to world affairs following the First World War, after having established itself as a major world power. The United States did not even become a representative of the League of Nations, essentially the creation of its own then President, Woodrow Wilson. This organization was set up in 1919 to curb international conflict, which co