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<h4>Hello Students, read the below article then on your own webpage on www.goodtoknow.com, write a short constructed response using "R-A-C-E-" as instructed in class.</h4>
 
<h4>Hello Students, read the below article then on your own webpage on www.goodtoknow.com, write a short constructed response using "R-A-C-E-" as instructed in class.</h4>
 
    
 
    
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       '''Why did Great Claus take away Little Claus' horse?'''
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       '''According to the story, what was the young lady very interested in?'''
 
       '''Use at least one detail from the passage to support your response.'''
 
       '''Use at least one detail from the passage to support your response.'''
  
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<br><br>'''<h4>GREAT CLAUS AND LITTLE CLAUS</h4>'''
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<br><br>'''<h4>BEAUTY OF FORM AND BEAUTY OF MIND</h4>'''
  
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In a village there once lived two men of the same name. Both of them were called Claus. But because one of them owned four horses while the other had but one, people called the one who had the four horses Big, or Great, Claus and the one who owned but a single horse Little Claus. Now I shall tell you what happened to each of them, for this is a true story.
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There was once a sculptor, named Alfred, who having won the large gold medal and obtained a travelling scholarship, went to Italy, and then came back to his native land. He was young at that time—indeed, he is young still, although he is ten years older than he was then. On his return, he went to visit one of the little towns in the island of Zealand. The whole town knew who the stranger was; and one of the richest men in the place gave a party in his honor, and all who were of any consequence, or who possessed some property, were invited. It was quite an event, and all the town knew of it, so that it was not necessary to announce it by beat of drum. Apprentice-boys, children of the poor, and even the poor people themselves, stood before the house, watching the lighted windows; and the watchman might easily fancy he was giving a party also, there were so many people in the streets. There was quite an air of festivity about it, and the house was full of it; for Mr. Alfred, the sculptor, was there. He talked and told anecdotes, and every one listened to him with pleasure, not unmingled with awe; but none felt so much respect for him as did the elderly widow of a naval officer. She seemed, so far as Mr. Alfred was concerned, to be like a piece of fresh blotting-paper that absorbed all he said and asked for more. She was very appreciative, and incredibly ignorant—a kind of female Gaspar Hauser.
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All the days of the week Little Claus was obliged to plow for Great Claus and to lend him his one horse; then once a week, on Sunday, Great Claus helped Little Claus with his four horses, but always on a holiday.
 
  
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"Hurrah!" How Little Claus would crack his whip over the five, for they were as good as his own on that one day.
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"I should like to see Rome," she said; "it must be a lovely city, or so many foreigners would not be constantly arriving there. Now, do give me a description of Rome. How does the city look when you enter in at the gate?"
  
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The sun shone brightly, and the church bells rang merrily as the people passed by. The people were dressed in their best, with their prayer-books under their arms, for they were going to church to hear the clergyman preach. They looked at Little Claus plowing with five horses, and he was so proud and merry that he cracked his whip and cried, "Gee-up, my fine horses."
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"I cannot very well describe it," said the sculptor; "but you enter on a large open space, in the center of which stands an obelisk, which is a thousand years old."
  
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"You mustn't say that," said Great Claus, "for only one of them is yours."
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"An organist!" exclaimed the lady, who had never heard the word 'obelisk.' Several of the guests could scarcely forbear laughing, and the sculptor would have had some difficulty in keeping his countenance, but the smile on his lips faded away; for he caught sight of a pair of dark-blue eyes close by the side of the inquisitive lady. They belonged to her daughter; and surely no one who had such a daughter could be silly. The mother was like a fountain of questions; and the daughter, who listened but never spoke, might have passed for the beautiful maid of the fountain. How charming she was! She was a study for the sculptor to contemplate, but not to converse with; for she did not speak, or, at least, very seldom.
  
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But Little Claus soon forgot what it was that he ought not to say, and when anyone went by he would call out, "Gee-up, my fine horses."
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"Has the pope a great family?" inquired the lady.
  
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"I must really beg you not to say that again," said Great Claus as he passed; "for if you do, I shall take away your horse and then it will be all over for you."
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The young man answered considerately, as if the question had been a different one, "No; he does not come from a great family."
  
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"I will certainly not say it again, I promise you," said Little Claus. But as soon as anyone came by, nodding good day to him, he was so pleased and felt so grand at having five horses plowing his field, that again he cried out, "Gee-up, all my horses."
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"That is not what I asked," persisted the widow; "I mean, has he a wife and children?"
  
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"I'll gee-up your horses for you," said Great Claus, and he caught up to the horse and took it far away.
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"The pope is not allowed to marry," replied the gentleman.
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"I don't like that," was the lady's remark.
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She certainly might have asked more sensible questions; but if she had not been allowed to say just what she liked, would her daughter have been there, leaning so gracefully on her shoulder, and looking straight before her, with a smile that was almost mournful on her face?

Revision as of 21:44, 2 June 2020

Hello Students, read the below article then on your own webpage on www.goodtoknow.com, write a short constructed response using "R-A-C-E-" as instructed in class.

      According to the story, what was the young lady very interested in?
      Use at least one detail from the passage to support your response.


BEAUTY OF FORM AND BEAUTY OF MIND

There was once a sculptor, named Alfred, who having won the large gold medal and obtained a travelling scholarship, went to Italy, and then came back to his native land. He was young at that time—indeed, he is young still, although he is ten years older than he was then. On his return, he went to visit one of the little towns in the island of Zealand. The whole town knew who the stranger was; and one of the richest men in the place gave a party in his honor, and all who were of any consequence, or who possessed some property, were invited. It was quite an event, and all the town knew of it, so that it was not necessary to announce it by beat of drum. Apprentice-boys, children of the poor, and even the poor people themselves, stood before the house, watching the lighted windows; and the watchman might easily fancy he was giving a party also, there were so many people in the streets. There was quite an air of festivity about it, and the house was full of it; for Mr. Alfred, the sculptor, was there. He talked and told anecdotes, and every one listened to him with pleasure, not unmingled with awe; but none felt so much respect for him as did the elderly widow of a naval officer. She seemed, so far as Mr. Alfred was concerned, to be like a piece of fresh blotting-paper that absorbed all he said and asked for more. She was very appreciative, and incredibly ignorant—a kind of female Gaspar Hauser.

"I should like to see Rome," she said; "it must be a lovely city, or so many foreigners would not be constantly arriving there. Now, do give me a description of Rome. How does the city look when you enter in at the gate?"

"I cannot very well describe it," said the sculptor; "but you enter on a large open space, in the center of which stands an obelisk, which is a thousand years old."

"An organist!" exclaimed the lady, who had never heard the word 'obelisk.' Several of the guests could scarcely forbear laughing, and the sculptor would have had some difficulty in keeping his countenance, but the smile on his lips faded away; for he caught sight of a pair of dark-blue eyes close by the side of the inquisitive lady. They belonged to her daughter; and surely no one who had such a daughter could be silly. The mother was like a fountain of questions; and the daughter, who listened but never spoke, might have passed for the beautiful maid of the fountain. How charming she was! She was a study for the sculptor to contemplate, but not to converse with; for she did not speak, or, at least, very seldom.

"Has the pope a great family?" inquired the lady.

The young man answered considerately, as if the question had been a different one, "No; he does not come from a great family."

"That is not what I asked," persisted the widow; "I mean, has he a wife and children?"

"The pope is not allowed to marry," replied the gentleman.

"I don't like that," was the lady's remark.

She certainly might have asked more sensible questions; but if she had not been allowed to say just what she liked, would her daughter have been there, leaning so gracefully on her shoulder, and looking straight before her, with a smile that was almost mournful on her face?