Christmas Stories. Opowiadania świąteczne w wersji do nauki angielskiego - Marta Fihel, Marcin Jażyński, Grzegorz Komerski - ebook
Opis

Język angielski

Poziom B1–B2

Lubisz czytać dobre powieści a jednocześnie chcesz doskonalić swój angielski?

Mamy dla Ciebie idealne połączenie!

Klasyka literatury światowej w wersji do nauki języka angielskiego.

CZYTAJ – dzięki oryginalnemu angielskiemu tekstowi opowiadań „Christmas Storiesprzyswajasz nowe słówka, uczysz się ich zastosowania w zdaniach i poszerzasz słownictwo. Wciągająca fabuła książki sprawi, że nie będziesz mógł się oderwać od lektury, co zapewni regularność nauki. Czytanie tekstów po angielsku to najlepsza metoda nauki angielskiego.

SŁUCHAJ – pobierz bezpłatne nagranie mp3 oryginalnego tekstu „Christmas Stories” dostępne na poltext.pl/pobierz. Czytaj jednocześnie słuchając nagrania i utrwalaj wymowę.

ĆWICZ – do każdego rozdziału powieści przygotowane zostały specjalne dodatki i ćwiczenia:

  • na marginesach stron znajdziesz minisłownik i objaśnienia trudniejszych wyrazów;
  • w części „O słowach” poszerzysz słownictwo z danej dziedziny, a w części gramatycznej poznasz struktury i zagadnienia językowe;
  • dzięki zamieszczonym na końcu rozdziału testom i różnorodnym ćwiczeniom sprawdzisz rozumienie przeczytanego tekstu;
  • odpowiedzi do wszystkich zadań zamkniętych znajdziesz w kluczu na końcu książki.

Wybraliśmy związane z Bożym Narodzeniem teksty dziewiętnastowiecznych autorów angielskich i amerykańskich. Nie wszystkie wyszły spod pióra zawodowych literatów – na liście autorów znajdują się zarówno giganci jak Charles Dickens czy Oscar Wilde, jak i na pół zapomniani duchowni, dziennikarze, a nawet ornitolodzy. Połączyło ich jedno i to samo pragnienie – podzielić się historią ciepłą i mądrą. Podobne pragnienie przyświecało nam przy układaniu tego wyboru „opowieści wigilijnych”. Mamy nadzieję, że dzięki tym świątecznym opowieściom uda się spędzić kilka przyjemnych chwil i oderwać się od codzienności.

***

Marta Fihel – anglistka, nauczycielka z wieloletnim stażem. Współautorka książek do nauki języka angielskiego i słowników.

Marcin Jażyński – doktor filozofii UW. Zajmuje się kognitywistyką, reżyseruje filmy animowane. Współpracuje z Collegium Civitas oraz Gimnazjum społecznym w Milanówku pod Warszawą. Uczy filozofii, logiki i filmu animowanego.

Grzegorz Komerski – absolwent filozofii na UW, tłumacz, który lubi współtworzyć podręczniki do nauki angielskiego. Najczęściej tłumaczy z angielskiego dobrą fantastykę i literaturę młodzieżową. W wolnych chwilach grywa w szachy, czyta i zastanawia się nad pochodzeniem słów. Bo język to wielce fascynująca sprawa.

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Liczba stron: 394

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Redakcja: Jadwiga Witecka

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Wszelkie prawa zastrzeżone. Nieautoryzowane rozpowszechnianie całości lub fragmentów niniejszej publikacji w jakiejkolwiek postaci zabronione. Wykonywanie kopii metodą elektroniczną, fotograficzną, a także kopiowanie książki na nośniku filmowym, magnetycznym, optycznym lub innym powoduje naruszenie praw autorskich niniejszej publikacji. Niniejsza publikacja została elektronicznie zabezpieczona przed nieautoryzowanym kopiowaniem, dystrybucją i użytkowaniem. Usuwanie, omijanie lub zmiana zabezpieczeń stanowi naruszenie prawa.

Warszawa 2018

Poltext Sp. z o.o.

www.poltext.pl

[email protected]

ISBN 978-83-7561-807-5 (format epub) 

ISBN 978-83-7561-817-4 (format mobi) 

W wersji do nauki angielskiego dotychczas ukazały się:

A Christmas Carol

Opowieść wigilijna

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Alicja w Krainie Czarów

Anne of Green Gables

Ania z Zielonego Wzgórza

Christmas Stories

Opowiadania świąteczne

Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen

Baśnie Hansa Christiana Andersena

Fanny Hill. Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure

Wspomnienia kurtyzany

Frankenstein

Frankenstein

Peter and Wendy

Piotruś Pan

Pride and Prejudice

Duma i uprzedzenie

Short Stories by Edgar Allan Poe

Opowiadania Allana Edgara Poe

Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald: A Collection

Opowiadania autora Wielkiego Gatsby’ego

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Part 1

Przygody Sherlocka Holmesa

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Part 2

Przygody Sherlocka Holmesa. Ciąg dalszy

The Blue Castle

Błękitny Zamek

The Great Gatsby

Wielki Gatsby

The Hound of the Baskervilles

Pies Baskerville’ów

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Portret Doriana Graya

The Secret Garden

Tajemniczy ogród

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Doktor Jekyll i pan Hyde

The Time Machine

Wehikuł czasu

The War of the Worlds

Wojna światów

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Czarnoksiężnik z Krainy Oz

Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)

Trzech panów w łódce (nie licząc psa)

Wstęp

Długa jesień i jeszcze dłuższa od niej zima, ze swymi długimi i niekiedy dłużącymi się ponad miarę popołudniami i wieczorami stanowią fantastyczny czas na snucie i czytanie opowieści. A jeszcze lepszą okazję na poznanie nowych historii dają nam wypadające na przełomie starego i nowego roku święta Bożego Narodzenia. To właśnie wtedy, po długich rozmowach z bliskimi, zadowoleni z wigilijnych prezentów, z brzuchami pełnymi świątecznych przysmaków, mamy szansę usiąść spokojnie w fotelu, otulić się ulubionym kocem i przeczytać coś nowego. A ponieważ to święta, to powinna być to opowieść ciepła, urocza, napawająca wiarą w świat i ludzi, i – niezależnie od wyznawanej religii czy światopoglądu – w to, że wszystko dobrze się skończy. Bo dlatego właśnie ludzie odkąd tylko nauczyli się mówić, dzielą się opowieściami.

Wybraliśmy dla Was związane (mniej lub bardziej) z Bożym Narodzeniem teksty dziewiętnastowiecznych autorów angielskich i amerykańskich. Nie wszystkie wyszły spod pióra zawodowych literatów – na liście naszych twórców znajdujemy zarówno gigantów takich jak Charles Dickens czy Oscar Wilde, jak i na pół zapomnianych, także w swych ojczyznach, duchownych, dziennikarzy, a nawet ornitologów. Wszystkich tych ludzi połączyło jednak jedno i to samo pragnienie – podzielić się z bliźnimi historią ciepłą i mądrą.

Podobne pragnienie przyświecało nam przy układaniu tekstów do tej książki. Mamy nadzieję, że dzięki tym świątecznym opowieściom uda się państwu spędzić przynajmniej kilka przyjemnych chwil i oderwać się od dręczącej, paskudnej codzienności.

Wesołych Świąt!

Opracowany przez nas podręcznik oparty na oryginalnym tekście baśni i opowiadań został skonstruowany według przejrzystego schematu.

Na

marginesach tekstu podano

objaśnienia

trudniejszych

wyrazów.

Uwaga! W niektórych utworach pojawiają się niestandardowe formy gramatyczne (np. „There ain’t to be no Christmas for we.”), wyrażenia przestarzałe lub rzadko używane. Ich objaśnienia również znajdują się na marginesach tekstu, ale w ćwiczeniach zwracamy uwagę wyłącznie na słownictwo i struktury, których używa się do dziś w standardowym angielskim.

W objaśnieniach trudniejszych wyrazów użyto następujących skrótów:

l.m. – liczba mnoga

sb – somebody (ktoś)

sth – something (coś)

oneself – się

(franc.) – francuski

(łac.) – łacina

Każde

opowiadanie

lub baśń zakończono krótkim testem sprawdzającym stopień

rozumienia

tekstu

.

Dział

O słowach

, zawarty

po każdej części, jest poświęcony poszerzeniu słownictwa, słowotwórstwu, zasadom użycia danego wyrazu, wyrazom kłopotliwym i łatwym do pomylenia, oraz utartym wyrażeniom i zwrotom.

W dziale

poświęconym

gramatyce

omówiono

wybrane

zagadnienia gramatyczne, ilustrowane fragmentami poszczególnych części powieści.

Dla

dociekliwych został również opracowany komentarz do wybranych tematów związanych z 

kulturą i historią

.

Różnorodne ćwiczenia pozwolą Czytelnikowi powtórzyć i sprawdzić omówione w podręczniku zagadnienia leksykalne i gramatyczne. Alfabetyczny wykaz wyrazów objaśnianych na marginesie tekstu oraz innych trudniejszch słówek znajduje się w słowniczku. Odpowiedzi do wszystkich zadań zamkniętych są podane w kluczuna końcu książki.

PART 1

Słownictwo

How the Pine Tree Did Some Good

Samuel W. Duffield

It was a long narrow valley where the Pine Tree stood, and perhaps if you want to look for it you might find it there today. For pine trees live a long time, and this one was not very old.

The valley was quite barren. Nothing grew there but a few scrubby bushes; and, to tell the truth, it was about as desolate a place as you can well imagine. Far up over it hung the great, snowy caps of the Rocky Mountains, where the clouds played hide and seek all day, and chased each other merrily across the snow. There was a little stream, too, that gathered itself up among the snows and came running down the side of the mountain; but for all that the valley was very dreary.

Once in a while there went a large grey rabbit, hopping among the sagebrushes; but look as far as you could you would find no more inhabitants. Poor, solitary little valley, with not even a cottonwood down by the stream, and hardly enough grass to furnish threeoxen with a meal! Poor, barren little valley lying always for half the day in the shadow of those tall cliffs – burning under the summer sun, heaped high with the winter snows--lying there year after year without a friend! Yes, it had two friends, though they could do it but little good, for they were two pine trees. The one nearest the mountain, hanging quite out of reach in a cleft of the rock, was an old, gnarled tree, which had stood there for a hundred years. The other was younger, with bright green foliage, summer and winter. It curled up the ends of its branches, as if it would like to have you understand that it was a very fine, hardyfellow, even if it wasn’t as old as its father up there in the cleft of the rock.

Now the young Pine Tree grew very lonesome at times, and was glad to talk with any persons who came along, and they were few, I can tell you. Occasionally, it would look lovingly up to the father pine, and wonder if it could make him hear what it said. It would rustle its branches and shout by the hour, but the father pine heard him only once, and then the words were so mixed with falling snow that it was really impossible to say what they meant.

So the Pine Tree was very lonesome and no wonder. “I wish I knew of what good I am,” he said to the grey rabbit one day. “I wish I knew, – I wish I knew,” and he rustled his branches until they all seemed to say, “Wish I knew – wish I knew.”

“O pshaw!” said the rabbit, “I wouldn’t concern myself much about that. Some day you’ll find out.”

“But do tell me,” persisted the Pine Tree, “of what good you think I am.”

“Well,” answered the rabbit, sitting up on her hind paws and washing her face with her front ones, in order that company shouldn’t see her unless she looked trim and tidy -”well,” said the rabbit, “I can’t exactly say myself what it is. If you don’t help one, you help another – and that’s right enough, isn’t it? As for me, I take care of my family. I hop around among the sagebrushes and get their breakfast and dinner and supper. I have plenty to do, I assure you, and you must really excuse me now, for I have to be off.”

“I wish I was a hare,” muttered the Pine Tree to himself, “I think I could do some good then, for I should have a family to support, but I know I can’t now.”

Then he called across to the little stream and asked the same question of him. And the stream rippled along, and danced in the sunshine, and answered him. “I go on errands for the big mountain all day. I carried one of your cones not long ago to a point of land twenty miles off, and there now is a pine tree that looks just like you. But I must run along, I am so busy. I can’t tell you of what good you are. You must wait and see.” And the little stream danced on.

“I wish I were a stream,” thought the Pine Tree. “Anything but being tied down to this spot for years. That is unfair. The rabbit can run around, and so can the stream; but I must stand still forever. I wish I were dead.”

By and by the summer passed into autumn, and the autumn into winter, and the snowflakes began to fall.

“Halloo!” said the first one, all in a flutter, as she dropped on the Pine Tree. But he shook her off, and she fell still farther down on the ground. The Pine Tree was getting very churlish andcross lately.

However, the snow didn’t stop for all that and very soon there was a white robe over all the narrow valley. The Pine Tree had no one to talk with now. The stream had covered himself in with ice and snow, and wasn’t to be seen.

The hare had to hop around very industriously to get enough for her children to eat; and the sagebrushes were always low-minded fellows and couldn’t begin to keep up a ten-minutes’ conversation.

At last there came a solitary figure across the valley, making its way straight for the Pine Tree. It was a lamemule, which had been left behind from some wagon-train. Hedragged himself slowly on till he reached the tree. Now the Pine, in shaking off the snow, had shaken down some cones as well, and they lay on the snow. These the mule picked up and began to eat.

“Heigh ho!” said the tree, “I never knew those things were fit to eat before.”

“Didn’t you?” replied the mule. “Why, I have lived on these things, as you call them, ever since I left the wagons. I am going back on the Oregon Trail, and I sha’n’t see you again. Accept my thanks for breakfast. Good-bye.”

And he moved off to the other end of the valley and disappeared among the rocks.

“Well!” exclaimed the Pine Tree. “That’s something, at all events.” And he shook down a number of cones on the snow. He was really happier than he had ever been before, – and with good reason, too.

After a while there appeared three people. They were a family of Indians, -a father, a mother, and a little child. They, too, went straight to the tree.

“We’ll stay here,” said the father, looking across at the snow-covered bed of the stream and up at the Pine Tree. He was very poorly clothed, this Indian. He and his wife and the child had on dresses of hare-skins, and they possessed nothing more of any account, exceptbow andarrows, and a stick with a net on the end. They had no lodge poles, and not even a dog. They were very miserable and hungry. The man threw down his bow and arrows not far from the tree. Then he began to clear away the snow in a circle and to pull up the sagebrushes. These he and the woman built into a round, low hut, and then they lighted a fire within it. While it was beginning to burn the man went to the stream and broke a hole in the ice. Tying a string to his arrow, he shot a fish which came up to breathe, and, after putting it on the coals, they all ate it half-raw. They never noticed the Pine Tree, though he scattered down at least a dozen more cones.

At last night came on, cold and cheerless. The wind blewsavagely through the valleys, and howled at the Pine Tree, for they were old enemies. Oh, it was a bitter night, but finally the morning broke!

More snow had fallen and heaped up against the hut so that you could hardly tell that it was there. The stream had frozentighter than before and the man could not break a hole in the ice again. The sagebrushes were all hid by the drifts, and the Indians could find none to burn.

Then they turned to the Pine Tree. How glad he was to help them! They gathered up the cones and roasted theseeds on the fire. They cut branches from the tree and burned them, and so kept up the warmth in their hut.

The Pine Tree began to find himself useful, and he told the hare so one morning when she came along. But she saw the Indian’s hut, and did not stop to reply. She had put on her winter coat of white, yet the Indian had seen her in spite of all her care. He followed her over the snow with his net, and caught her among the drifts. Poor Pine Tree! She was almost his only friend, and when he saw her eaten and her skin taken for the child’s mantle, he was very sorrowful, you may be sure.

He saw that if the Indians stayed there, he, too, would have to die, for they would in time burn off all his branches, and use all his cones; but he was doing good at last, and he was content.

Day after day passed by, – some bleak, some warm, – and the winter moved slowly along. The Indians only went from their hut to the Pine Tree now. He gave them fire and food, and the snow was their drink. He was smaller than before, for many branches were gone, but he was happier than ever.

One day the sun came out more warmly, and it seemed as if spring was near. The Indian man broke a hole in the ice, and got more fish. The Indian woman caught a rabbit. The Indian child gathered sagebrushes from under the fast-melting snow and made a hotter fire to cook the feast. And they did feast, and then they went away.

The Pine Tree had found out his mission. He had helped to save three lives.

In the summer there came along a band of explorers, and one, the botanist of the party, stopped beside our Pine Tree:

“This,” said he in his big words, “is the Pinus Monophyllus, otherwise known as the Bread Pine.” He looked at the deserted hut and passed his hand over his forehead.

“How strange it is,” said he. “This Pine Tree must have kept a whole family from cold and starvation last winter. There are very few of us who have done as much good as that.” And when he went away, he waved his hand to the tree and thanked God in his heart that it grew there. And the Bread Pine waved his branches in return, and said to himself as he gazed after the departing band: “I will never complain again, for I have found out what a pleasant thing it is to do good, and I know now that every one in his lifetime can do a little of it.”

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Zaznacz poprawne odpowiedzi (A, B lub C).

1. The pine tree

A) had no family.

B) had a friend.

C) made friends with an ox.

2. The rabbit

A) had children.

B) was lonely.

C) couldn’t find anything to eat.

3. The stream

A) didn’t talk to the pine tree.

B) was very busy.

C) felt lonely.

4. The Indian family

A) used what the pine tree gave them.

B) chopped the pine tree down.

C) couldn’t find any food at all.

5. The pine tree

A) felt miserable and lonely all the time.

B) never spoke to his father.

C) was happy to be useful.

SŁOWNICTWO

Charity in a Cottage

Jean Ingelow

The charity of the rich is much to be commended; but how beautiful is the charity of the poor!

Call to mind the coldest day you ever experienced. Think of the bitter wind and driving snow; think how you shook and shivered – how the sharp white particles were driven up against your face – how, within doors, the carpets were lifted like billows along the floors, the wind howled and moaned in the chimneys, windows cracked, doors rattled, and every now and then heavy lumps of snow came thundering down with a dull weight from the roof.

Now hear my story.

In one of the broad, open plains of Lincolnshire, there is a long reedy sheet of water, a favourite resort of wild ducks. At its northern extremity stand two mud cottages, old, and out of repair.

One bitter, bitter night, when the snow lay three feet deep on the ground, and a cutting east wind was driving it about, and whistling in the dry frozen reeds by the water’s edge, and swinging the bare willow trees till their branches swept the ice, an old woman sat spinning in one of these cottages before a moderately cheerful fire. Her kettle was singing on the coals, she had a reed candle, or home-made rushlight, on her table, but the full moon shone in, and was the brighter light of the two. These two cottages were far from any road, or any other habitation; the old woman was, therefore, surprised, in an old northern song, by a sudden knock at the door.

It was loud and impatient, not like the knock of her neighbours in the other cottage; but the door was bolted, and the old woman rose, and shuffling to the window, looked out and saw a shivering figure, apparently that of a youth.

“Trampers!” said the old woman, sententiously, “tramping folks be not wanted here.” So saying she went back to the fire without deigning to answer the door.

The youth upon this tried the door, and called to her to beg admittance. She heard him rap the snow from his shoes against her lintel, and again knock as if he thought she was deaf, and he should surely gain admittance if he could make her hear.

The old woman, surprised at his audacity, went to the casement and with all the pride of possession, opened it and inquired his business.

“Good woman,” the stranger began, “I only want a seat at your fire.”

“Nay,” said the old woman, giving effect to her words by her uncouth dialect, “thou’ll get no shelter here; I’ve nought to give to beggars – a dirty, wet critter,” she continued wrathfully, slamming to the window. “It’s a wonder where he found any water, too, seeing it freeze so hard a body can get none for the kettle, saving what’s broken up with a hatchet.”

The stranger turned very hastily from her door and waded through the deep snow towards the other cottage. The bitter wind helped to drive him towards it. It looked no less poor than the first; and when he had tried the door and found it bolted and fast, his heart sank within him. His hand was so numbed with cold that he had made scarcely any noise; he tried again.

A rush candle was burning within and a matronly looking woman sat before the fire. She held an infant in her arms and had dropped asleep; but his third knock aroused her, and wrapping her apron round the child, she opened the door a very little way, and demanded what he wanted.

“Good woman,” the youth began, “I have had the misfortune to fall in the water this bitter night, and I am so numbed I can scarcely walk.”

The woman gave him a sudden earnest look and then sighed.

“Come in,” she said; “thou art so nigh the size of my Jem, I thought at first it was him come home from sea.”

The youth stepped across the threshold, trembling with cold and wet; and no wonder, for his clothes were completely encased in wet mud, and the water dripped from them with every step he took on the sanded floor.

“Thou art in a sorry plight,” said the woman, “and it be two miles to the nighest house; come and kneel down afore the fire; thy teeth chatter so pitifully I can scarce bear to hear them.”

She looked at him more attentively and saw that he was a mere boy, not more than sixteen years of age. Her motherly heart was touched for him. “Art hungry?” she asked, turning to the table. “Thou art wet to the skin. What hast been doing?”

“Shooting wild ducks,” said the boy.

“Oh,” said the hostess, “thou art one of the keeper’s boys, then, I reckon?”

He followed the direction of her eyes, and saw two portions of bread set upon the table, with a small piece of bacon on each.

“My master be very late,” she observed, for charity did not make her use elegant language, and by her master she meant her husband; “but thou art welcome to my bit and sup, for I was waiting for him. Maybe it will put a little warmth in thee to eat and drink.” So saying, she placed before him her own share of the supper.

“Thank you,” said the boy; “but I am so wet I am making quite a pool before your fire with the drippings from my clothes.”

“Aye, they are wet indeed,” said the woman, and rising again she went to an old box, in which she began to search, and presently came to the fire with a perfectly clean check shirt in her hand and a tolerably good suit of clothes.

“There,” said she, showing them with no small pride, “these be my master’s Sunday clothes, and if thou wilt be very careful of them I’ll let thee wear them till thine be dry.” She then explained that she was going to put her “bairn” to bed, and proceeded up a ladder into the room above, leaving the boy to array himself in these respectablegarments.

When she had come down her guest had dressed himself in the labourer’s clothes; he had had time to warm himself, and he was eating and drinking with hungry relish. He had thrown his muddy clothes in a heap upon the floor. As she looked at him she said:

“Ah, lad, lad, I doubt that head been under water: thy poor mother would have been sorely frightened if she could have seen thee a while ago.”

“Yes,” said the boy; and in imagination the cottage dame saw this same mother, a careworn, hard-working creature like herself; while the youthful guest saw in imagination a beautiful and courtly lady; and both saw the same love, the same anxiety, the same terror, at sight of a lonely boy struggling in the moonlight through breaking ice, with no one to help him, catching at the frozen reeds, and then creeping up, shivering and benumbed, to a cottage door.

But, even as she stooped, the woman forgot her imagination, for she had taken a waistcoat into her hands, such as had never passed between them before; a gold pencil-case dropped from the pocket; and on the floor amidst a heap of mud that covered the outer garments, lay a white shirt sleeve, so white, indeed, and so fine, that she thought it could hardly be worn by a squire!

She glanced from the clothes to the owner. He had thrown down his cap, and his fair curly hair and broad forehead convinced her that he was of gentle birth; but while she hesitated to sit down, he placed a chair for her, and said with boyish frankness:

“I say, what a lonely place this is! If you had not let me in, the water would have frozen me before I reached home. Catch me duck-shooting again by myself!”

“It’s very cold sport that, sir,” said the woman.

The young gentleman assented most readily, and asked if he might stir the fire.

“And welcome, sir,” said the woman.

She felt a curiosity to know who he was, and he partly satisfied her by remarking that he was staying at Deen Hall, a house about five miles off, adding that in the morning he had broken a hole in the ice very near the decoy, but it iced over so fast, that in the dusk he had missed it, and fallen in, for it would not bear him. He had made some landmarks, and taken every properprecaution, but he supposed the sport had excited him so much that in the moonlight he had passed them by.

He then told her of his attempt to get shelter in the other cottage.

“Sir,” said the woman, “if you had said you were a gentleman -”

The boy laughed. “I don’t think I knew it, my good woman,” he replied, “my senses were so benumbed; for I was some time struggling at the water’s edge among the broken ice, and then I believe I was nearly an hour creeping up to your cottage door. I remember it all rather indistinctly, but as soon as I had felt the fire and eaten something I was a different creature.”

As they still talked, the husband came in; and while he was eating his supper it was agreed that he should walk to Deen Hall, and let its inmates know of the gentleman’s safety. When he was gone the woman made up the fire with all the coal that remained to the poor household, and crept up to bed, leaving her guest to lie down and rest before it.

In the grey dawn the labourer returned, with a ser-vant leading a horse, and bringing a fresh suit of clothes.

The young man took his leave with many thanks, slipping three half-crowns into the woman’s hand, probably all the money he had about him. And I must not forget to mention that he kissed the baby; for when she tells the story, the mother always adverts to that circumstance with great pride, adding that her child, being as “clean as wax, was quite fit to be kissed by anybody.”

“Misses,” said her husband, as they stood in the doorway looking after their guest, “who dost think that be?”

“I don’t know,” answered the misses.

“Then I’ll just tell thee; that be young Lord W----; so thou mayest be a proud woman; thou sits and talks with lords, and then asks them to supper – ha, ha!”

So saying, her master shouldered his spade and went his way, leaving her clinking the three half-crowns in her hand, and considering what she should do with them.

Her neighbour from the other cottage presently stepped in, and when she heard the tale and saw the money her heart was ready to break with envy and jealousy.

“Oh, to think that good luck should have come to her door, and she should have been so foolish as to turn it away! Seven shillings and sixpence for a morsel of food and a night’s shelter--why it was nearly a week’s wages!”

So there, as they both supposed, the matter ended, and the next week the frost was sharper than ever. Sheep were frozen in the fenny field and poultry on their perches, but the good woman had walked to the nearest town and bought a blanket. It was a welcomeaddition to their bed covering, and it was many a long year since they had been so comfortable.

But it chanced one day at noon that, looking out at her casement she spied three young gentlemen skating along the ice towards her cottage. They sprang on to the bank, took off their skates, and made for her door. The young nobleman, for he was one of the three, informed her that he had had such a severe cold he could not come to see her before. “He spoke as free and pleasantly,” she said, in telling the story, “as if I had been a lady, and no less, and then he brought a parcel out of his pocket, saying, ‘I have been over to B---- and brought you a book for a keepsake, and I hope you will accept it;’ and then they all talked as pretty as could be for a matter of ten minutes, and went away. So I waited till my master came home, and we opened the parcel, and there was a fine Bible inside, all over gold and red morocco, and my name and his name written inside; and, bless him, a ten-pound note doubled down over the names. I’m sure, when I thought he was a poor forlorn creature, he was kindly welcome. So my master laid out part of the money in tools, and we rented a garden; and he goes over on market days to sell what we grow, so now, thank God, we want for nothing.”

This is how she generally concludes the little history, never failing to add that the young lord kissed her baby.

But I have not yet told you what I thought the best part of the story. When this poor Christian woman was asked what had induced her to take in a perfect stranger and trust him with the best clothing her home afforded, she answered simply, “Well, I saw him shivering and shaking, so I thought, thou shalt come in here, for the sake of Him that had not where to lay His head.”

The old woman in the other cottage may open her door every night of her future life to some forlorn beggar, but it is all but certain that she will never open it to a nobleman in disguise!

Let us do good, not to receive more good in return, but as evidence of gratitude for what has been already bestowed. In a few words, let it be “all for love and nothing for reward.”

“The most excellent gift is charity.”

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Zaznacz zdania prawdziwe literą T (True), a fałszywe literą F (False).

1. The first woman didn’t open the door because she was scared.

2. The second woman shared a meal with a stranger.

3. The stranger was a poor boy.

4. The stranger offered some money to his hostess.

5. The stranger never came back to see the people who had helped him.

SŁOWNICTWO

A Masque of the Days

Charles Lamb

The Old Year being dead, and the New Year coming of age, which he does, by calendar law as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman’s body, nothing would serve the young spark, but he must give a dinner upon the occasion, to which all the Days in the year were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in providing mirth and good cheer for mortals below, and it was time they should have a taste of their own bounty.

It was stiffly debated among them whether the Fasts should be admitted. Some said the appearance of such lean, starved guests, with their mortified faces, would pervert the ends of the meeting. But the objection was overruled by Christmas Day, who had a design upon Ash Wednesday (as you shall hear), and a mighty desire to see how the old Domine would behave himself in his cups. Only the Vigils were requested to come with their lanterns to light the gentlefolk home at night.

All the Days came. Covers were provided for three hundred and sixty-five guests at the principal table; with an occasional knife and fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February.

Cards of invitation had been issued. The carriers were the Hours; twelve little, merry, whirligigfoot-pages that went all round and found out the person invited, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, and a few such movables, who had lately shifted their quarters.

Well, they all met at last, foul Days, fine Days, all sorts of Days, and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but “Hail, fellow Day! well met!” only Lady Day seemed a little scornful. Yet some said Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came all royal and glittering and Epiphanous. The rest came in green, some in white, but old Lent and his family were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping, and Sunshiny Days laugh-ing. Wedding Day was there in marriage finery. Pay Day came late, and Doomsday sent word he might be expected.

April Fool took upon himself to marshal the guests, and May Day, with that sweetness peculiar to her, proposed the health of the host. This being done, the lordly New Year, from the upper end of the table, returned thanks. Ash Wednesday, being now called upon for a song, struck up a carol, which Christmas Day had taught him. Shrovetide, Lord Mayor’s Day, and April Fool next joined in a glee, in which all the Days, chiming in, made a merry burden.

All this while Valentine’s Day kept courting pretty May, who sat next him, slipping amorousbillet-doux under the table till the Dog Days began to be jealous and to bark and rageexceedingly.

At last the Days called for their cloaks and great-coats, and took their leave. Shortest Day went off in a deep black fog that wrapped the little gentleman all round. Two Vigils – so watchmen are called in Heaven – saw Christmas Day safe home; they had been used to the business before. Another Vigil – a stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve of St. Christopher – seeing Ash Wednesday in a condition little better than he should be, e’enwhipt him over his shoulders, pick-a-packfashion, and he went floating home, singing:

“On the bat’s back do I fly,” and a number of old snatches besides. Longest Day set off westward in beautiful crimson and gold; the rest, some in one fashion, some in another; but Valentine and pretty May took their departure together in one of the prettiest silvery twilights a Lover’s Day could wish to set in.

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Połącz nazwy dni, świąt i okresów (1–8) z ich polskimi nazwami (A–H).

1) Fast

2) New Year

3) April Fool

4) Ash Wednesday

5) Twelfth Day

6) Valentine’s Day

7) dog days

8) Easter Day

A) dni upałów

B) Nowy Rok

C) post

D) prima aprilis

E) środa popielcowa

F) Święto Trzech Króli

G) walentynki

H) Wielkanoc

SŁOWNICTWO

A January Thaw

Dallas Lore Sharp

It was the twenty-first of January--the dead of winter! The stubborn cold had had the out of doors under lock and key since Thanksgiving Day. We were having a hard winter, and the novelty of the thing was beginning to wear off – to us grown-ups anyhow, and to the birds and wild things which for weeks had found scant picking over the ice and snow. But I was snug enough in my upstairs study, when suddenly the door opened and four bebundled boys stood before me, with an axe, a long-handledshovel, a basket, and, evidently, a big secret.

“Come on, father,” they whispered (as if she hadn’t heard them clomping with their kit through the house!), “it’s mother’s birthday to-morrow, and we’re going after the flowers.”

“Going to chop them down with the axe or dig them up with the shovel?” I asked. “Going to give her a nice bunch of frost-flowers? Better get the ice-saw then, for we’ll need a big block of ice to stick their stems in.”

“Hurry,” they answered, dropping my hip-boots on the floor. “Here are your scuffs.”

I hurried, and soon the five of us, in single file were out on the meadow, the dry snow squeaking under our feet, while the little winds, capering spitefully about us, blew the snow-dust into our faces or catching up the thin drifts sent them whirling like waltzingwraiths of dancers over the meadow’s glittering floor.

I was beginning to warm up a little, but it was a numb, stiff world about us, and bleak and stark, a world all black and white, for there was not even blue overhead. The white underfoot ran off to meet the black of the woods, and the woods in turn stood dark against a sky so heavy with snow that it seemed to shut us into some vast snow cave. A crowflapping over drew a black pencil line across the picture – the one sign of life besides ourselves that we could see. Only small boys are likely to leave their firesides on such a day – only small boys, and those men who can’t grow up. Yet never before, perhaps, had even they gone out on such a tramp with an axe, a shovel, and a basket, to pick flowers!

Suddenly one of the boys dashed off, crying: “Let’s go see if the muskrats have gone to bed yet!” and, trailing after him, we made for a little mound that stood about three feet high out in the meadow, more like a big ant hill or a small, snow-piledhaycock, than a lodge of any sort. Only a practiced eye could have seen it, and only a lover of bleak days would have known what might be alive in there.

We crept up softly and surrounded the lodge; then with the axe we struck the frozen, flinty roof several ringing blows. Instantly one-two-three muffled, splashy “plunks” were heard as three little muskrats, frightened out of their naps and half out of their wits, plunged into the open water of their doorways from off their damp, but cosy couch.

It was a mean thing to do--but not very mean as wild animal life goes. And it did warm me up so, in spite of the chilly plunge the little sleepers took! Chilly to them? Not at all and that is why it warmed me. To hear the splash of water down under the two feet of ice and snow that sealed the meadow like a sheet of steel! To hear the sounds of stirring life, and to picture that snug,steaming bed on the top of a tough old tussock, with its open water-doors leading into freedom and plenty below! “Why, it won’t be long before the arbutus is in bloom,” I began to think. I looked at the axe and the shovel and said to myself, “Well, the boys may know what they are doing after all, though three muskrats do not make a spring.”

We had cut back to our path, but had not gone ten paces along it before another boy was off to the left in the direction of a piece of maple swamp.

“He’s going to see if ‘Hairy’ is in his hole,” they informed me, and we all took after him. The “hole” was almost twenty-five feet up in a dead oakstub that had blown off and lodged against a live tree. The meadow had been bleak and wind-swept, but the swamp was naked and dead, filled with ice and touched with a most forbidding emptiness and stillness. I was getting cold again, when the boy ahead tapped lightly on the old stub, and at the empty hole appeared a head—a fierce black and white head, a sharp, long beak, a flashing eye—as “Hairy” came forth to fight for his castle. He was too wise a fighter to tackle all of us, however, so, slipping out, he spread his wings and galloped off with a loud, wild call that set all the swamp to ringing.

It was a thrilling, defiant challenge that set my blood to leaping again. Black and white, he was a part of the picture, but there was a scarlet band at the nape of his neck that, like his call, had fire in it and the warmth of life.

As his woodpecker shout went booming through the hollow halls of the swamp, it woke a blue jay who squalled back from a clump of pines, then wavering out into the open on curious wings -flashing ice-blue and snow-white wings – he dived into the covert of pines again; and faint, as if from beyond the swamp, the cheep of chickadees! Here a little troop of them came to peep into the racket, curious but not excited, discussing the disturbance of the solemn swamp in that desultory, sewing-bee fashion of theirs, as if nipping off threads and squinting through needle-eyes between their running comment.

They, too, were grey and black, grey as the swamp beeches, black as the spotted bark of the birches. And how tiny! But -

“Here was this atom in full breath

Hurlingdefiance at vast death -

This scrap of valour just for play

Fronts the north wind in waistcoat grey.”

And this, also, is what Emerson says he sings,

“Good day, good sir!

Fine afternoon, old passenger!

Happy to meet you in these places

Where January brings few faces.”

And as I brought to mind the poet’s lines, I forgot to shiver, and quite warmed up again to the idea of flowers, especially as one of the boys just then brought up a spray of green holly with a burning red berry on it!

We were tacking again to get back on our course, and had got into the edge of the swamp among the pines when the boy with the shovel began to study the ground and the trees with a searching eye, moving forward and back as if trying to find the location of something.

“Here it is,” he said, and set in digging through the snow at the foot of a big pine. I knew what he was after. It was gold thread, and here was the only spot, in all the woods about, where we had ever found it – a spot not larger than the top of a dining-room table.

Soon we had a fistful of the delicate plants with their evergreenleaflets and long, golden thread-like roots, that mixed with the red and green of the partridge berry in a finger-bowl makes a cheerful little winter bouquet. And here with the gold thread, about the butt of the pine, was the partridge berry, too, the daintyvines strung with the beads which seemed to burn holes in the snow that had covered and banked the tiny fires.

For this is all that the ice and snow had done. The winter had come with wind enough to blow out every flame in the maple tops, and with snow enough to smother every little fire in the peat bogs of the swamp; but peat fires are hard to put out, and here and everywhere the winter had only banked the fires of summer. Dig down through the snow ashes anywhere and the smouldering fires of life burst into blaze.

But the boy with the axe had gone on ahead. And we were off again after him, stopping to get a great armful of black alder branches that were literallyaflame with red berries.

We were climbing a pinyknoll when almost at our feet, jumping us nearly out of our skins, and warming the very roots of our hair, was a burrrr--burrrr--burrrr--burrrr--four big partridges – as if four big snow mines had exploded under us, hurling bunches of brown on gracefulscaling wings over the dip of the hills!

On we went up over the knoll and down into a low bog where, in the summer, we gather high-bush blueberries, the boy with the axe leading the way and going straight across the ice toward the middle of the bog.

My eye was keen for signs, and soon I saw he was heading for a sweet-pepper bush with a broken branch. My eye took in another bush off a little to the right with a broken branch. The boy with the axe walked up to the broken sweet-pepper bush and drew a line on the ice between it and the bush off on the right, pacing along this line till he got the middle; then he started at right angles from it and paced off a line to a clump of cat-tailssticking up through the ice of the floodedbog. Halfway back on this line he stopped, threw off his coat and began to chop a hole about two feet square in the ice. Removing the block while I looked on, he rolled up his sleeve and reached down the length of his arm through the icy water.

“Give me the shovel,” he said, “it’s down here,” and with a few deep, dexterous cuts soon brought to the surface a beautiful cluster of pitcher plants, the strange, almost uncanny leaves filled with muddy water, but every pitcher of them intact, shaped and veined and tinted by a master potter’s hand.

We wrapped it all carefully in newspapers, and put it in the basket, starting back with our bouquet as cheerful and as full of joy in the season as we could possibly have been in June.

No, I did not say that we love January as much as we love June. January here in New England is a mixture of rheumatism, chillblains, frozen water pipes, mittens, overshoes, blocked trains, and automobile troubles, whereas any automobile will run in June. I have not room in this essay to tell all that June is; besides, this is a story of January.

What I was saying is that we started home all abloom with our pitcher plants, and gold thread, and partridge berry, and holly, and black alder, all aglow inside with our vigorous tramp, with the grey, grave beauty of the landscape, with the stern joy of meeting and beating the cold, and with the signs of life – of the cosy muskrats in their lodge beneath the ice cap on the meadow; with the hairy woodpecker in his deep, warm hole in the heart of the tree; with the red-warm berries in our basket; with the chirping, the conquering chickadee accompanying us and singing -

“For well the soul, if stout within,

Can armimpregnably the skin;

And polar frost my form defied

Made of the air that blows outside.”

And actually as we came over the bleak meadow one of the boys said he thought he heard a song sparrow singing; and I thought the pussywillows by the brook had opened a little since we passed them coming out; and we all declared the weather had changed, and that there were signs of a break-up. But the thermometer stood at fifteen above zero when we got home – one degree colder than when we started! So we concluded that the January thaw must have come off inside of us; and if the colour of the four glowing faces is any sign, that was the correct reading of the weather.

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Zaznacz wyrazy, które nie pasują do poszczególnych kategorii.

1. Animals: muskrat, crow, vine, woodpecker, chikadee

2. Plants: maple, oak, beech, mine, birch, holly

3. Tools: shovel, axe, sparrow, ice-saw

4. Places: cave, meadow, knoll, bog, potter

O słowach

Hardly

„More snow had fallen and heaped up against the hut so that you could hardly tell that it was there.”

Zapewne znasz wyrażenie hardly ever (bardzo rzadko, prawie nigdy). W dosłownym tłumaczeniu brzmi ono ledwie kiedykolwiek (co po polsku brzmi niezgrabnie i dlatego używamy innych odpowiedników). Hardly to właśnie ledwie, zaledwie, prawie nie, z trudem i używa się go nie tylko w związku z ever. Oto kilka przykładów:

Sheila could hardly believe the news.

Sheila z trudem uwierzyła w tę wiadomość.

I hardly knew him.

Ledwo go znałem./Prawie go nie znałem.

Kelly said hardly a word to me.

Kelly nie powiedziała do mnie prawie ani słowa.

We could hardly breathe after the long run.

Po długim biegu ledwo mogliśmy złapać oddech.

Wiesz też zapewne, że przyrostek (końcówka) „ly” służy do budowania przysłówków (wyrazów takich jak ładnie, czysto, szybko) pochodzących od przymiotników (wyrazów takich jak ładny, czysty, szybki). Oto kilka par tego typu:

slow – slowly

(

wolny, powolny – wolno

)

beautiful – beautifully

(

piękny – pięknie

)

quick – quickly

(

szybki – szybko

)

Wyrazy hard i hardly należą jednak do wyjątków! Hard to zarówno przymiotnik (twardy, ciężki, trudny), jak i przysłówek (ciężko, mocno, silnie, usilnie), a znaczenie wyrazu hardly objaśniliśmy powyżej. Porównaj przykłady:

It was a hard task.

To było trudne zadanie.

The sculpture was made of hard stone.

Rzeźbę wykonano z twardego kamienia.

It was hard to say who was right.

Ciężko było powiedzieć, kto ma rację.

They were working hard.

Ciężko pracowali.

They hardly worked.

Prawie nie pracowali.

We could hardly hear anything.

Ledwie co słyszeliśmy.

FORTUNE

„I have had the misfortune to fall in the water this bitter night, and I am so numbed I can scarcely walk.”

Misfortune to nieszczęście, pech. To słowo powstało przez połączenie negatywnego przedrostka „mis” i rzeczownika fortune (szczęście, fortuna). Poniżej znajdziesz kilka innych słów spokrewnionych z wyrazem fortune – przyjrzyj się, w jaki sposób powstały.

fortun

ate

szczęśliwy

un

fortun

ate

– nieszczęśliwy

fortunate

ly

– szczęśliwie, na szczęście

un

fortunate

ly

– nieszczęśliwie, na nieszczęście, niestety

Gramatyka

CZASOWNIKI NIEREGULARNE

„It was a long narrow valley where the Pine Tree stood.”

Czasowniki angielskie mają kilka głównych form. Bezokolicznik (tańczyć, robić, śpiewać) to następujące formy: (to) dance, (to) do, (to) sing. Właśnie bezokolicznika (bez to) powinno się szukać w słownikach, jeśli chce się sprawdzić znaczenie wyrazu. To stanowi ważny element bezokolicznika, ale czasami jest zbyteczne.

Forma podstawowa czasownika to właśnie bezokolicznik bez to (dance, do, sing). Służy ona przede wszystkim do tworzenia:

a) czasu teraźniejszego prostego (Present Simple), np.:

I dance quite often.

Tańczę dość często.

He sings nice.

On ładnie śpiewa.

b) czasu przyszłego prostego (Future Simple):

Tomorrow I will study.

Jutro będę się uczyć.

What time will they arrive?

O której przybędą?

c) Forma podstawowa występuje też po czasownikach modalnych (can, must, should itd.), np.:

I can swim.

Umiem pływać.

We must go.

Musimy iść.

d) Formy podstawowej używamy też wtedy, kiedy czasownik modalny opisuje przeszłość, np.:

I could swim when I was six.

Umiałam pływać, kiedy miałam 6 lat.

Druga forma czasownika to forma czasu przeszłego, np.:

Yesterday we danced a lot.

Wczoraj dużo tańczyliśmy.

W przypadku czasowników regularnych tworzymy ją prosto – do formy podstawowej czasownika dodajemy końcówkę (e)d, np.:

dance – danced

love – loved

watch – watched

W przypadku czasowników nieregularnych form tych trzeba nauczyć się na pamięć, np.:

sing – sang

do – did

know – knew

go – went

Trzecia forma czasownika (past participle) to odpowiednik polskich form zakończonych m.in. na -ony, -any, np. zrobiony, złamany, przeczytany, popsuty, np.:

broken

cup

stłuczona filiżanka

frozen

river

– zamarźnięta rzeka

tired

students

– zmęczeni uczniowie.

Trzecia forma czasownika służy:

a) do tworzenia czasów perfect (dokonanych), np.:

I have waited so long.

Tak długo czekam.

She had broken her arm before they went on holiday.

Złamała rękę zanim wyjechali na wakacje.

b) Trzecia forma czasownika jest też konieczna w innych strukturach, jak np. strona bierna (patrz część 5), np.:

The house was sold.

Dom został sprzedany.

W przypadku czasowników regularnych trzecią formę tworzy się tak samo, jak drugą – dodając końcówkę (e)d, np.:

open – opened

cook – cooked

Form czasowników nieregularnych trzeba niestety nauczyć się na pamięć.

Czasowników nieregularnych jest w angielskim mniej niż regularnych. Należy do nich jednak wiele bardzo często używanych wyrazów, np. do (did; done), eat (ate; eaten), come (came; come). Jak nauczyć się ich najskuteczniej? Może w tym pomóc podzielenie tych czasowników na kilka grup.

Poznając nowy czasownik, warto zapamiętać, do której z przedstawionych w tabelach grup należy, a jego odmianę zapamiętamy o wiele łatwiej.

1. Czasowniki, których trzy podstawowe formy są różne.

I

II

III

Znaczenie

Forma podstawowa

Czas przeszły

Past Participle

awake

awoke

awoken

obudzić

be

was, were

been

być

begin

began

begun

zacząć

bite

bit

bitten

gryźć

blow

blew

blown

dmuchać

break

broke

broken

łamać

choose

chose

chosen

wybrać

do

did

done

robić

drink

drank

drunk

pić

eat

ate

eaten

jeść

fall

fell

fallen

spadać

fly

flew

flown

latać

forget

forgot

forgotten

zapomnieć

freeze

froze

frozen

zamarzać

get

got

gotten (amerykański angielski)

dostać

give

gave

given

dawać

go

went

gone

iść

grow

grew

grown

rosnąć

know

knew

known

wiedzieć, znać

see

saw

seen

widzieć

speak

spoke

spoken

mówić

steal

stole

stolen

kraść

swim

swam

swum

pływać

take

took

taken

brać

wear

wore

worn

nosić, mieć na sobie

write

wrote

written

pisać

2. Czasowniki, które mają takie same formy podstawową i trzecią, ale forma czasu przeszłego jest różna.

I

II

III

Znaczenie

Forma podstawowa

Czas przeszły

Past Participle

become

became

become

stać się

come

came

come

przyjść

run

ran

run

biec

3. Czasowniki, które mają takie same formy podstawową i czasu przeszłego, ale trzecia forma jest różna.

I

II

III

Forma podstawowa

Czas przeszły

Past Participle

Znaczenie

beat

beat

beaten

bić

4. Czasowniki, które mają identyczne formy czasu przeszłego i trzecią – różne od formy podstawowej.

I

II

III

Znaczenie

Forma podstawowa

Czas przeszły

Past Participle

bend

bent

bent

zginać

bring

brought

brought

przynieść

build

built

built

budować

burn (w amerykańskim angielskim – czasownik regularny)

burnt

burnt

spalić

buy

bought

bought

kupić

catch

caught

caught

łapać

creep

crept

crept

pełzać

dig

dug

dug

kopać

feel

felt

felt

czuć

fight

fought

fought

walczyć

find

found

found

znaleźć

get

got

got (brytyjski angielski)

dostać

have

had

had

mieć

hear

heard

heard

słyszeć

hold

held

held

trzymać

keep

kept

kept

trzymać

leave

left

left

zostawiać, opuszczać

lose

lost

lost

gubić, tracić

make

made

made

robić

meet

met

met

spotkać

sell

sold

sold

sprzedać

tell

told

told

opowiadać, powiedzieć

think

thought

thought

myśleć

win

won

won

wygrać

5. Czasowniki, których trzy formy są identyczne.

I

II

III

Znaczenie

Forma podstawowa

Czas przeszły

Past Participle

cost

cost

cost

kosztować

cut

cut

cut

ciąć

hit

hit

hit

uderzyć

hurt

hurt

hurt

ranić

put

put

put

kłaść

shut

shut

shut

zamknąć

spread

spread

spread

rozpościerać

WOULD

„O pshaw!” said the rabbit, “I wouldn’t concern myself much about that. Some day you’ll find out.”

„Nie przejmowałbym się tym tak”, powiedział królik do sosny. To „przejmowałbym”, czyli formę trybu przypuszczającego w języku angielskim tworzymy za pomocą wyrazu would.

Tryb przypuszczający – jak sama nazwa wskazuje – wyraża przypuszczenie, wątpliwość, niezdecydowanie, np.: poszłabym na spacer, nie zrobiłbym tego itp. W języku angielskim służy on również do wyrażania życzeń i próśb.

Tworzymy go według następujących schematów:

Zdanie twierdzące

podmiot + would + czasownik

Your teacher would help you.

Nauczyciel by ci pomógł.

I would go swimming.

Poszedłbym popływać.

Zdanie przeczące

podmiot + would not (= wouldn’t) + czasownik

We wouldn’t leave so early.

Nie wyjeżdżalibyśmy tak wcześnie.

I would not like to live here.

Nie chciałbym tu mieszkać.

Pytanie

(słówko pytające) + would + podmiot + czasownik

Would you help me?

Czy pomógłbyś mi?

Where would you like to live?

Gdzie chciałbyś mieszkać?

Po zaimkach would może ulec ściągnięciu (= ’d): 

We’d help you.

Pomoglibyśmy ci.

Oto inne przykłady zdań z would:

I’d join you, but my mother wants me to help her at home.

Dołączyłbym do was, ale moja matka chce, żebym pomógł jej w domu.

Steve would not study so hard if he wasn’t ambitious.

Steve nie uczyłby się tak dużo, gdyby nie był ambitny.

Your parents wouldn’t be happy if they heard what you had done.

Twoi rodzice nie byliby zadowoleni, gdyby dowiedzieli się, co zrobiłeś.

Would Jack visit his brother in hospital?

Czy Jack odwiedziłby brata w szpitalu?

Wouldn’t you feel sorry if your friend lied to you?

Czy nie byłoby ci przykro, gdyby twój przyjaciel cię okłamał?

Kultura i historia

WALENTYNKI

Późną jesienią i z początkiem zimy nasze myśli kierują się najczęściej ku świętom Bożego Narodzenia i następującemu wkrótce po nich przełomowi Nowego Roku. Istnieje jednak pewna wyjątkowa grupa ludzi, których sercom zdecydowanie bliższe jest święto wypadające nieco później, aczkolwiek budzące w sercach równie wiele ciepłych emocji co grudniowa Gwiazdka. Mowa oczywiście o wszystkich zakochanych świata i ich święcie, czyli wypadających 14 lutego walentynkach.

Historia dnia św. Walentego kryje w sobie przynajmniej jedną frapującą tajemnicę. Wiemy co prawda, że luty z dawien dawna był uznawany za miesiąc miłości i zakochanych, wiemy, że w obchodach walentynek można się dopatrzeć wątków pochodzących zarówno z tradycji chrześcijańskiej, jak i obrzędów starożytnego Rzymu. Czy wiemy jednak kim był patron zakochanych i jak doszło do tego, że właśnie jego imieniem ochrzczono to sympatyczne święto?

Kościół katolicki czci co najmniej trzech różnych świętych o imieniu Walenty (Valentius) i wszyscy oni zostali uznani za męczenników wiary. Jedna z legend widzi w Walentym księdza z trzeciego stulecia naszej ery pełniącego posługę w Rzymie. Panujący za jego życia cesarz Klaudiusz II Gocki (210–270) doszedł do wniosku, że kawalerowie są znacznie lepszymi żołnierzami niż mężczyźni obarczeni obowiązkami męża i ojca i konsekwentnie zakazał młodym kawalerom ślubów. Walenty, dostrzegając jawną niesprawiedliwość cesarskiego dekretu, przeciwstawił się Klaudiuszowi i dalej, tyle że potajemnie, udzielał młodym zakochanym sakramentu małżeństwa. Gdy sprawa wyszła na jaw, zbuntowany duchowny został skazany na śmierć.

Inna opowieść opowiada o Walentym zabitym za próbę udzielenia pomocy w ucieczce więzionym w rzymskich lochach chrześcijanom, ludziom którym groziły tortury i śmierć. Według kolejnego z podań wtrącony do więzienia i skazany na karę najwyższą Walenty (ten sam lub inny od poprzedniego) osobiście stał się autorem pierwszej w dziejach walentynki. Otóż zakochał się w dziewczynie – prawdopodobnie córce strażnika – która odwiedzała go przez cały czas niewoli. W dzień przed wykonaniem na nim wyroku śmierci zakochany więzień napisał do wybranki list, który podpisał słowami „twój Walenty”, co w anglojęzycznej postaci from your Valentine pojawia się co roku na milionach wysyłanych w sekrecie kartek.

Legend o Walentym jest znacznie więcej, niektóre łączą w sobie wątki wyżej wymienionych. Według wszystkich jednak przyszły święty był człowiekiem pełnym współczucia, bohaterskim i nader romantycznie usposobionym.

Niektórzy utrzymują, że walentynki są obchodzone w połowie lutego dla uczczenia rocznicy śmierci bądź pogrzebu świętego (prawdopodobnie zginął ok. 270 roku). Znacznie bardziej prawdopodobne wydaje się natomiast, że Kościół wybrał tę datę z rozmysłem, by „tchnąć chrześcijańskiego ducha” w pogańskie, obchodzone 15 lutego, święto zwane Luperkaliami.

Nazwa owego święta pochodziła od imienia Luperkusa, starożytnego boga pasterzy, chroniącego stada przez atakami wilków. Z czasem ważną rolę w obchodach tego święta zaczęły odgrywać postacie Fauna oraz mitycznych założycieli Rzymu – Romulusa i Remusa.

Luperkalia celebrowali kapłani, zbierający się w świętej jaskini Lupercal, w której, jak wierzono, wilczyca wykarmiła założycieli miasta. Tam właśnie składali w ofierze kozła (prosili w ten sposób o płodność współobywateli) oraz psa (to z kolei gwarantowało duchowe oczyszczenie). Martwego kozła oprawiano następnie ze skóry, którą cięto na paski, moczono w krwi zwierzęcia i obchodzono z nimi miasto, chłoszcząc napotykanych przechodniów. Rzymianie razów nie unikali, ponieważ smagnięcie tymi dość makabrycznymi rzemieniami zapewniało mężczyznom przypływ sił witalnych, a bezdzietnym kobietom rychłe poczęcie.

Luperkalia przetrwały wprawdzie okres narodzin i pierwszych sukcesów chrześcijaństwa, lecz ostatecznie zakazano tego „pogańskiego reliktu” pod koniec V stulecia, gdy papież Gelazjusz ogłosił 14 lutego dniem św. Walentego.

Skojarzenie owej daty i jej patrona z miłością zawiązało się jednak znacznie później. Zawdzięczamy je dopiero średniowiecznym Anglikom i Francuzom, wierzącym powszechnie, że 14 lutego ptaki rozpoczynają swój sezon zalotów i lęgów, co w powiązaniu z romantyczną osobowością świętego sprawiło, iż uznali Walentego za patrona zakochanych (poza nimi, sympatyczny święty opiekuje się m.in. epileptykami i chorymi psychicznie).

Także w średniowieczu narodził się zwyczaj przesyłania sobie walentynkowych życzeń. W wersji pisanej pojawiły się w XV wieku. Najstarszą istniejącą do dziś walentynką jest wiersz napisany pod koniec 1415 roku przez Karola, księcia Orleanu, dla żony. Utwór powstał, gdy książę siedział w londyńskiej twierdzy Tower, dokąd trafił jako jeniec po bitwie pod Agincourt. Podobno niedługo potem, inny możny arystokrata epoki, angielski król Henryk V (1387–1422) wynajął zakonnika i poetę nazwiskiem John Lydgate do ułożenia treści walentynki przeznaczonej dla swojej żony, Katarzyny de Valois.

Walentynki największą popularnością cieszą się w krajach takich jak USA, Kanada, Meksyk, Wielka Brytania, Francja i Australia. W Anglii święto zakochanych zaczęto celebrować powszechnie w XVII wieku. Już w połowie XVIII stulecia niemal wszyscy przyjaciele i zakochani wymieniali się 14 lutego drobnymi podarkami i kartkami z życzeniami. Drukowane walentynki pojawiły się z początkiem XX wieku. Współcześnie, według oceny Greeting Card Association ( brytyjskiego stowarzyszenia wydawców pocztówek), rocznie wysyłanych jest pocztą około miliard walentynkowych kartek, co daje świętu drugą pozycję po Bożym Narodzeniu, kiedy pocztowcy przekazują aż 2,6 miliarda pocztówkowych życzeń.

Ćwiczenia

Klucz >>>

1. Dopasuj wyrazy (1–10) do ich definicji i synonimów (A–J).

1. branch

2. mutter

3. cross

4. moan

5. deaf

6. engaged

7. instantly

8. pace

9. faint

10. actually

A) angry

B) busy

C) immediately, right away

D) one of many long pieces of a tree

E) really

F) step

G) to give a low sound when you’re unhappy or in pain

H) to say something quietly and not very clearly

I) unable to hear anything

J) weak

2. Uzupełnij zdania wyrazami z ramki.

cottage; gather; hardly; keepsake; kettle; mud; sleeves; unfortunately; valley; would

a) Helen was so shocked she could ……………… say a word.

b) ………………, Luke didn’t pass the test.

c) I ……………… go cycling with you, but my bike’s broken.