UNIVERSIDAD
YACAMBU
ESTUDIOS
VIRTUALES
LIC. EN
DOCUMENTACIÓN E INFORMACIÓN
IDIOMA AVANZADO
INTENSIVO
Trabajo Nº 5
Participant: Alexandra Ramírez
Teacher: Neyda
Díaz
READING COMPREHENSION
Stonehenge
Stonehenge is a Neolithic and Bronze Age megalithic
monument located near Amesbury in the English county ofWiltshire,
about 8 miles (13 km) north of Salisbury. Its geographical location
is 51°10'43.87"N, 1°49'35.07"W.
It is
composed of earthworks surrounding a circular setting of large standing stones
and is one of the most famous prehistoric sites in the world.
Archaeologists
think that the standing stones were erected between 2500 BC and 2000 BC
although the surrounding circular earth bank and ditch, which constitute the
earliest phase of the monument, have been dated to about 3100 BC.
The site
and its surroundings were added to the UNESCO's list of World Heritage Sites
in 1986 in a co-listing with Aveburyhenge monument, and it is also a
legally protected Scheduled Ancient Monument. Stonehenge itself is
owned and managed by English Heritage whilst the surrounding downland is
owned by the National Trust.
Questions
Now, answer the questions about the
text.
The American Pepper
"Mummy! Mummy!" shouted little Murna
racing from the front door through to the kitchen. "There's a parcel. The
postman's brought a parcel!"
Her mother, Savni, looked at her in surprise. She
had no idea who could have sent them a parcel. Maybe it was a mistake. She
hurried to the door to find out. Sure enough, the postman was there, holding a
parcel about the size of a small brick.
"From America, madam," he said. "See! American
stamps."
It was true. In the top right-hand corner of the brown paper parcel were
three strange-looking stamps, showing a man's head. The package was addressed
to Savni, in big, clear black letters.
"Well, I suppose it must be from Great-Aunt Pasni,"
said Savni to herself, as the postman went on his way down the street,
whistling. "Although it must be twenty years since we heard anything from
her. I thought she would have been dead by now."
Savni's husband Jornas and her son Arinas were just coming in
from the garden, where Murna had run to tell them about the parcel.
"Well, open it then!" said Arinas impatiently. "Let's see
what's inside!"
Setting the parcel down in the middle of the table, Savni carefully
began to tear open the paper. Inside, there was a large silver container with a
hinged lid, which was taped shut. There was also a letter.
"What is it? What is it?" demanded Murna impatiently.
"Is it a present?"
"I have no idea," said Savni in confusion. "I think
it must be from Great-Aunt Pasni. She went to America almost thirty
years ago now. But we haven't heard from her in twenty years. Perhaps the
letter will tell us." She opened the folded page cautiously, then
looked up in dismay. "Well, this is no help!" she said in annoyance.
"It's written in English! How does she expect us to read English? We're
poor people, we have no education. Maybe Pasni has forgotten her native
language, after thirty years in America."
"Well, open the pot, anyway," said Jornas. "Let's
see what's inside."
Cautiously, Savni pulled the tape from the neck of the silver pot,
and opened the lid. Four heads touched over the top of the container, as their
owners stared down inside.
"Strange," said Arinas. "All I see is powder."
The pot was about one-third full of a kind of light-grey powder.
"What is it?" asked Murna, mystified.
"We don't know, darling," said Savni, stroking her
daughter's hair. "What do you think?" Murna stared again into
the pot.
"I think its coffee," she announced,
finally. "American coffee."
"It's the wrong colour for coffee, darling," said Jornas
thoughtfully. "But maybe she's on the right track. It must be some kind of
food." Murna, by now, had her nose right down into the pot. Suddenly,
she lifted her head and sneezed loudly.
"Id god up by doze," she explained.
"That's it!" said Arinas. "It must be pepper! Let me
try some." Dipping a finger into the powder, he licked it.
"Yes," he said, "it's pepper all right. Mild, but quite
tasty. It's American pepper."
"All right," said Savni, "we'll try it on the stew
tonight. We'll have American-style stew!"
That evening, the whole family agreed that the American pepper had added
a special extra taste to their usual evening stew. They were delighted with it.
By the end of the week, there was only a teaspoonful of the grey powder left in the silver container. Then Savni called a
halt.
"We're saving the last bit for Sunday. Dr. Haret is coming to
dinner, and we'll let him have some as a special treat. Then it will be
finished."
The following Sunday, the whole family put on their best clothes, ready
for dinner with Dr. Haret. He was the local doctor, and he had become a
friend of the family many years before, when he had saved Arinas's life
after an accident. Once every couple of months, Savni invited the doctor
for dinner, and they all looked forward to his entertaining stories of his
youth at the university in the capital.
During dinner, Savni explained to the doctor about the mysterious
American pepper, the last of which she had put in the stew they were eating,
and the letter they could not read.
"Well, give it to me, give it to me!" said the doctor briskly.
"I speak English! I can translate it for you."
Savni brought the letter, and the family waited, fascinated, as the
doctor began to translate.
"Dear Savni: you don't know me, but I am the son of your old
Great-Aunt Pasni. She never talked much to us about the old country, but
in her final illness earlier this year, she told us that after her death, she
wanted her ashes to be sent back home to you, so that you could scatter them on
the hills of the country where she was born. My mother died two weeks ago, and
her funeral and cremation took place last week. I am sending her ashes to you
in a silver casket. Please do as she asked, and spread them over the ground
near where she was born. Your cousin, George Leary."
(MDH 1995 -- from a common urban legend)
MULTIPLE-CHOICE QUESTIONS
Choose the answer you think is correct.
The Hitchhiker
As Andrea turned off the motorway onto the road to Brockbourne, the small village in which she lived, it was four o'clock in the afternoon, but already the sun was falling behind the hills. At this time in December, it would be completely dark by five o'clock. Andrea shivered. The interior of the car was not cold, but the trees bending in the harsh wind and the patches of yesterday's snow still heaped in the fields made her feel chilly inside. It was another ten miles to the cottage where she lived with her husband Michael, and the dim light and wintry weather made her feel a little lonely. She would have liked to listen to the radio, but it had been stolen from her car when it was parked outside her office inLondon about two weeks ago, and she had not got around to replacing it yet.
She was just coming out of the little village
of Mickley when she saw the old lady, standing by the road, with a crude
hand-written sign saying "Brockbourne" in her hand. Andrea was
surprised. She had never seen an old lady hitchhiking before. However, the
weather and the coming darkness made her feel sorry for the lady, waiting
hopefully on a country road like this with little traffic. Normally, Andrea
would never pick up a hitchhiker when she was alone, thinking it was too
dangerous, but what was the harm in doing a favor for a little old lady
like this? Andrea pulled up a little way down the road, and the lady, holding a
big shopping bag, hurried over to climb in the door which Andrea had opened for
her.
When she did get in, Andrea could see that she was
not, in fact, so little. Broad and fat, the old lady had some difficulty
climbing in through the car door, with her big bag, and when she had got in,
she more than filled the seat next to Andrea. She wore a long, shabby old
dress, and she had a yellow hat pulled down low over her eyes. Panting noisily
from her effort, she pushed her big brown canvas shopping bag down onto the
floor under her feet, and said in a voice which was almost a whisper,
"Thank you dearie -- I'm just going to Brockbourne."
"Do you live there?" asked Andrea, thinking
that she had never seen the old lady in the village in the four years she had
lived there herself.
"No, dearie," answered the passenger,
in her soft voice, "I'm just going to visit a friend. He was supposed to
meet me back there at Mickley, but his car won't start, so I decided to
hitchhike -- there isn't a bus until seven, and I didn't want to wait. I knew
some kind soul would give me a lift."
Something in the way the lady spoke, and the way she
never turned her head, but stared continuously into the darkness ahead from
under her old yellow hat, made Andrea uneasy about this strange hitchhiker. She
didn't know why, but she felt instinctively that there was something wrong,
something odd, something....dangerous. But how could an old lady be
dangerous? it was absurd.
Careful not to turn her head, Andrea looked sideways
at her passenger. She studied the hat, the dirty collar of the dress, the shapeless
body, the arms with their thick black hairs....
Thick black hairs?
Hairy arms? Andrea's blood froze.
This wasn't a woman. It was a man.
At first, she didn't know what to do. Then suddenly,
an idea came into her racing, terrified brain. Swinging the wheel suddenly, she
threw the car into a skid, and brought it to a halt.
"My God!" she shouted, "A child! Did
you see the child? I think I hit her!"
The "old lady" was clearly shaken by the
sudden skid. "I didn't see anything dearie," she said. "I don't
think you hit anything."
"I'm sure it was a child!" insisted Andrea.
"Could you just get out and have a look? Just see if there's anything on
the road?" She held her breath. Would her plan work?
It did. The passenger slowly opened the car door, leaving
her bag inside, and climbed out to investigate. As soon as she was out of the
vehicle, Andrea gunned the engine and accelerated madly away. The car door
swung shut as she rounded a bend, and soon she had put a good three miles
between herself and the awful hitchhiker.
It was only then that she thought about the bag lying
on the floor in front of her. Maybe the bag would provide some information
about the real identity about the old woman who was not an old woman. Pulling
into the side of the road, Andrea lifted the heavy bag onto her lap and opened
it curiously.
It contained only one item -- a small hand axe, with a
razor-sharp blade. The axe, and the inside of the bag, were covered with
the dark red stains of dried blood.
Andrea began to scream.
(MDH 1994 -- From a common urban legend)
MULTIPLE-CHOICE QUESTIONS
Choose on the answer you think is
correct.