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TEXT 10: BICYCLE STYLES: Yesterday and Today

by Stephen Henkel

According to one meaning, a bicycle is “a vehicle with two wheels, one behind the other; a steering handle; a saddle seat; and pedals by which it is driven.” If it has three wheels or one, it’s not a bicycle. If the wheels are side by side instead of in front and back, it’s not a bicycle. If it has no pedals, or if it is driven by a motor, it’s not a bicycle.

Who invented such a thing as the bicycle in the first place? There were bicyclelike machines before 1800, but none met the meaning given above. The earliest-known picture of something like a bicycle can be seen in a stained-glass window, dated 1642, in a church in England. But nobody knows of the machine pictured was real or imagined by the artist, or even if it had two wheels. Around 1690, the Comte de Sivrac of France invented a two-wheeled vehicle called a Walk-along. The rider drove it by sitting on a saddle and pushing the ground with her or his feet. Several kinds of walk-alongs were in use by the late 1700’s.

Another early forerunner of the bicycle was built in 1816 by Baron Karl von Drais of Germany. Called the Draisine, it was made of wood. The Draisine was different from the earlier walk-along in one important way: The front wheel turned allowing the rider to steer the machine. In 1818 and 1819, Dennis Johnson of London made two kinds of Draisines – one for men and one for women. There was a cross bar on the men’s model but not on the women’s. This difference between men’s and women’s bicycles remains uncharged after more than a century and a half. Machines like Johnson’s were known by several names, such as Hobbyhorse, Swift-walker, and Dandy Horse.

Bicyclelike machines improved steadily after these first inventions. In 1840, Kirkpatrick MacMillan of Scotland added cranks similar to foot pedals to the front of his hobbyhorse. The cranks were connected to the rear wheel by rods. MacMillan is often called the true inventor of the bicycle.

In 1861, in France, the bicycle underwent another change. Two brothers named Michaux joined pedals to the front wheel. This bicycle had wooden wheels and iron tires. Because the ride was usually quite rough, the machine was known as the Boneshaker. In 1868, solid rubber tires replaced the iron ones, making the ride a little smoother.

In 1870, a bicycle called the Penny Farthing, the High-wheeler, or the Ordinary appeared in England. On this bicycle, the rider sat on a seat that was over a large front wheel. As time went on, the front wheel was made bigger and bigger for more speed. By the 1880’s, front wheels of about fifty inches across and rear wheels of about seventeen inches across were common. These bicycles were usually heavy, weighing fifty to seventy-five pounds. But some weighed as much as one hundred fifty pounds and others as little as twenty-one pounds.

About this time, a man named Oldreive carried the big-wheel idea to an extreme. He came up with a huge-wheeled tricycle. The rider for this machine had to sit inside the wheel to pedal.

During this same period, there were some people who made bicycles with smaller front wheels and placed the seat closer to the back wheel, which gave the rider a safer position. Singer’s Xtraordinary, also known as the Dwarf Safety Velocipede, is an example of this kind.

From 1885 to 1890, several more changes were made to the bicycle. In 1885, J.K. Starley of England brought out the Rover. It had wheels of the same size, a chain-driven rear wheel, and solid rubber tires. Then three years later, James Dunlop of Ireland came forth with air-filled tires. By the beginning of the 1890’s, a bicycle called the Safety had two twenty-eight-inch wheels, a chain drive, and air-filled tires. The Safety became a popular bicycle, and it was the model for the modern diamond-frame bicycle. Since the 1890’s only small changes have been made to the bicycle.

Today, the most common bicycle is the Touring Model, also called the English Racer. But other models are being designed and are gaining in popularity, such as the High-rise. There is even a bicycle that folds, making it easy to carry and store. Bicycles come in a wide range of shapes, sizes, and weights. Take your pick! And welcome to the world of pedal power!

I. Using Context to Get Word Meaning

In each of the following sentences, a word is underlined. Below the sentence, there are three words or groups of words. Read each sentence. Then choose the letter of the word or word group that has the same meaning as the underlined word.

1. One forerunner to the automobile of today was the horse-drawn carriage or buggy.

a. earlier stage b. later stage c. front bumper

2. I’m pleased that the expensive dress in the store window is so similar to the one I made last month.

a. different b. much better c. like

3. Becky really carried her study of tooth decay to the extreme by testing every single child in the city.

a. small degree b. fair amount c. very great degree

4. George’s paper was so well written that Mr. Pitman said it would be a perfect model for us to follow.

a. example b. well-dressed person c. test

5. Pat’s popularity is due to his good nature.

a. being disliked b. being liked c. good grades

II. Making Comparisons

Choose the letter of the ending that makes a correct comparison according to “Bicycle Styles: Yesterday and Today.”

1. In what important way was the Draisine different from the De Sivrac Walk-along?

a. It had a front wheel that turned.

b. It had a saddle seat for the rider.

c. It was moved by pushing with the feet.

2. How were Johnson’s Draisines different from earlier models?

a. They had air-filled tires and a chain drive.

b. There were different styles for men and women.

c. They were made of wood and iron.

3. How was MacMillan’s machine different from earlier models?

a. It had wooden wheels and iron tires.

b. It had cranks similar to foot pedals in the front.

c. It had more safety features.

4. How was the ride different when rubber tires replaced the wooden or iron tires of the Boneshaker and the other early bicycles?

a. It was bumpier.

b. It was slower.

c. It was smoother.

5. By 1880, how were front bicycle wheels different from rear ones?

a. The front wheels were smaller than the rear wheels.

b. The front wheels were larger than the rear wheels.

c. The front wheels were harder than the rear wheels.

6. How were James Dunlop’s bicycles different from earlier models?

a. They had air-filled tires.

b. They had hand brakes.

c. They had smaller wheels.

7. How different are bicycles today from those of the 1890’s?

a. They are very different.

b. They are not very different.

c. They are much larger.

III. Applying Reading Skills

Read each of the following incomplete sentences and the endings that follow it. Choose the ending that completes the sentence correctly according to the article “Bicycle Styles: Yesterday and Today.” Then mark the letter of the correct ending before the sentence.

1. According to one meaning, a bicycle cannot have

a. pedals by which it is driven.

b. a steering handle.

c. its wheels side by side.

d. a saddle seat.

2. The feature that all types of bicycles have in common is

a. a cross bar.

b. hand brakes.

c. high handlebars.

d. two wheels.

3. Kirkpatrick MacMillan is often called the true inventor of the bicycle because

a. he added cranks similar to foot pedals.

b. he replaced iron tires with solid rubber ones.

c. he used two wheels of the same size.

d. he added handle bars for steering.

4. Oldreive designed a tricycle with a wheel so large that

a. the rider had to sit inside the wheel to pedal.

b. the rider had to walk along beside the wheel to get started.

c. the rider had to sit high up in the air over the wheel.

5. A bicycle design that placed the rider’s seat closer to the back wheel resulted in

a. easier steering.

b. faster speeds.

c. greater safety.

6. From information in this article, you can conclude that

a. bicycle styles have changed very little since 1816.

b. bicycles are built mainly in the Unites States.

c. most changes in bicycle design were made in the 1800’s.


by John Savage

Her bicycle was really great. George first saw it at a youth hostel in the Glen of Aherlow, County Tipperary in Ireland. It was leaning against a wall of mossy stones, between the kitchen and the well. George dropped both buckets to admire it.

One thing he’d seen plenty of this summer was bicycles. It seemed as if half the college students of America – including, of course, himself – had been spending the vacation parking bikes outside the youth hostels of Europe.

But no one had a bicycle like this. The frame was a female model, painted shiny forget-me-not blue. The spokes and handlebars gleamed in the misty sunshine. And the saddle bags were made of the finest leather. And look at all those speeds! The sprockets were piled up like griddle cakes. That meant a dozen forward speeds, at least. If she did her shifting right, she could climb the side of Dublin Castle!

He sighed, picked up the buckets, and went to the well across the road. Anyway, it was a nice morning. A thrush hopped ahead of him, flipping its tail. A wood pigeon kept making a five-word announcement – coo-roo, roo - from a treetop. The cows were mooing in their shed, out in back.

Nobody else was up. George had sneaked out of the men’s dormitory without waking the German medical student or the Pakistani guitar player. He’d tiptoed through the Common Room, past the closed door of the women’s dormitory, and down the stairs. Now he filled the two buckets at the well. He couldn’t help wondering about the owner of that bike.

He carried the buckets back to the kitchen, still thinking about the blue bike. He’d gone to bed early last night, having ridden all the way from the Foulksrath hostel, with a long stop at the Rock of Cashel. He hadn’t seen any women here at Ballydavid Wood last night, except for the warden herself. So the woman with the fancy bike must have turned up after he’d gone to bed. … Well, that was one thing he knew about her, at least: She was the night-owl type.

He didn’t really care about her, but it would be sort of interesting if she would come down to fix her breakfast before he had to leave. She didn’t, as it turned out. At six a.m., which was the earliest the warden would let anyone use the hostel kitchen, he fried his bacon and eggs. The German medical student came down, yawning, just as George finished washing up. Nobody else came.

After breakfast George went upstairs to fold the blankets he’d used. By the time he’d done that, the warden was up and about. George told her he’d like to do his chores early and hit the road, so she had him sweep the Common Room. Then she gave him back his card. He climbed into his back pack rather slowly, but the owner of the blue bicycle didn’t show up. The blue bomb was still parked against the wall. He’d never know the owner. He shook the rain off his bicycle and rode away.

The ride to Caher, through a mild drizzle of rain, took him an hour. He turned right, at the three-way intersection, and headed for Cork. Between Caher and Kilbeheny, he came to a long uphill stretch, over the shoulder of the Galtee Mountains. It was on that stretch that he first saw the blue bike in motion.

He was puffing along, pedaling hard. A woman with golden hair passed him so fast that he hardly knew what was happening. Her “Morning!” floated back to him in a voice as soft as a wood pigeon’s, and then she got smaller as she disappeared in the distance up the hill.

Her legs, in green ski pants, were moving easily and fast. (His own were grinding along very slowly because he had only one speed.) She wasn’t wearing a back pack. That would be because she had saddle bags.

By the time he got over the hill, she was out of sight. He stopped for lunch at Mitchelstown, spent some of the afternoon at Moore Park House, and pedaled up to the Cork hostel at nine p.m. Her bike was outside, but she had already eaten and gone to bed.

So she wasn’t a night owl after all. She was changeable; that was it. And she had too many speeds. He’d never know who she was.

He failed to see her the next morning because he needed an early start to make Killarney. It was sad, somehow, but at least the day was beautiful.

That was the day she passed him in the Derrynasaggart Mountains, on the Kerry border. He’d been sort of listening for her, but her bike was just too quiet. She sang out “Hi!” and he sang out “Wait!” But she had already gone.

At the Killarney hostel, Aghdoe House, he got a good look at her at last. Or anyway, he hoped the woman he was looking at was the one. There were several complications. Aghadoe House is almost the biggest hostel in the country. There were thirty or forty bikes outside. One of the bikes was hers.

In the dinning room that night, an American woman with green ski pants and golden hair taught a group of French children to make folded-paper birds that would flap their wings if their tails were pulled. George stood at the edge of the group, not wanting to interrupt. French children never sleep. By ten p.m., she was showing them how to make a turtle, and George had to get some rest for the long day ahead. If he fell behind schedule, he’d miss his ship. He didn’t sleep right away though. He lay in an upper bunk with his eyes open, starting to correct the picture in his head; slim and friendly, loves children, surely the quiet type.

The next day, she passed him between Knocknagashel and Kilkinlea.

That night, through a stone wall a foot thick, he heard her singing “Old Dan Tucker” for a dormitory full of Irish girls – quiet, my foot.

On the day after that, he had an accident. At least he could say it was an accident. He’d been looking back over his shoulder, and his bike happened to tip over, and he happened to skin his knee. The woman on the blue bike happened to be a hundred yards behind him. She’d been gaining fast, but, of course, she stopped.

“I think it’s broken,” George said without getting up.

She looked at his leg and smiled. “I don’t.” She got a tidy, little first-aid kit out of one of her saddle bags and swabbed his knee with something cold.

“You’re the motherly type,” George told her.

“I’m not a type at all. At least I hope not.” She put away the lit, stepped gracefully astride the blue bomb, and left him lying there. Her parents must have told her not to stand around talking with strange men.

He got on his bike and rode on toward Ennis. This was to be his last full day in Ireland.

That evening he got lost, a few miles west of Kinvara, in County Galway. By the time he spotted the triangular sign for Doorus House, it was almost ten. The blue bike was there, leaning against a tree, but its owner had gone to bed. George gave the warden his card and small fee, ate a can of beans, and hit the sack.

He got up after seven the next morning because he didn’t have far to ride to catch his ship. There wasn’t anybody in the kitchen, so he tried the dinning room. It was full of people he didn’t know. He looked out the window. The blue bike was still there. Maybe, if he stalled a bit, he and the woman could fix breakfast together.

He was reading the plaque over the fireplace when he heard somebody on the stairs.

She came past the door and went straight out into the sunshine. George followed her to the blue bike. “That’s the nicest bicycle I’ve ever seen. How many speeds?”

“Fifteen.” She smiled. “I’ve never used them all.” She wheeled the bike into the driveway.

George was startled. “You leaving already?”

She nodded, and the sun did something nice to her hair. “The warden let me scrub the kitchen before I went to bed.”

“But why? I mean –“

“Each person, and I quote, is expected to do her or his share in keeping hostels clean. End of quote.”

“I meant, why are you leaving so early?”

“I have to get to Galway,” she said. “My ship sails from there at two, and I’ve got to do some shopping, ‘Buy.”

George let her go. For one thing, he hadn’t had breakfast or done his chores.

For a second thing, and a grand thing it was, he was due in Galway at two himself. He had a ship to catch. It could hardly be a different ship because not many liners came this way.

Humming to himself, he strolled in to fix breakfast. It was sort of nice to be going home.

I. Using Context to Get Word Meaning

In each of the following sentences, a word is underlined. Below the sentence, there are three words or groups of words. Read each sentence. Then choose the letter of the word or word group that has the same meaning as the underlined word.

1. When I first arrived at camp, I peeked into the dormitory where there must have been over twenty beds.

a. hospital room b. game room c. sleeping room

2. Many complications had to be worked out before the project was finished.

a. arguments b. problems c. answers

3. Because I wanted to get a lot of studying done, I made up a schedule for myself that allowed me only fifteen minutes for lunch.

a. type of clock b. plan of time c. special place

4. Little Jonathan proudly sat astride the horse and stroked its neck.

a. with a leg on b. with one leg c. facing the

each side of on top of back of

5. Dan stalled his answer, hoping he would think of something to say in time.

a. argued b. put off c. pretended

II. Making Inferences

Each item below contains a passage from “Blue Bike.” Read each passage and the sentences below it. Then choose the letter of the ending that makes a correct inference about George.

1. “Her bicycle was really great … forget-me-not blue. … He couldn’t help wondering about the owner of that bike. … He didn’t really care about her, but it would be sort of interesting if she would come down to fix her breakfast. …”

a. George suspected that the bike’s owner was too old for him.

b. George hoped that the bike’s owner was young and attractive.

c. George wasn’t really interested in who owned the bike.

2. “A woman with golden hair passed him. … Her ‘Morning!’ floated back to him in a voice as soft as a wood pigeon’s, …”

a. George was thinking that the woman was a skillful rider.

b. George was thinking that the woman was friendly.

c. George was thinking that the woman was attractive.

3. “So she wasn’t night owl after all. She was changeable; that was it. … He’d never know who she was.”

a. George was feeling happy.

b. George was feeling discouraged.

c. George was feeling angry.

4. “He’d been looking back over his shoulder, and his bike happened to tip over, and he happened to skin his knee. The woman on the blue bike happened to be a hundred yards behind him.

a. George deliberately pretended to have an accident.

b. George lost control of his bicycle because of carelessness.

c. George was embarrassed that he fell so near the woman.

5. “It could hardly be a different ship because not many liners came this way. Humming to himself, he strolled in to fix breakfast. It was sort of nice to be going home.”

a. George was feeling very homesick.

b. George was looking forward to eating a good breakfast.

c. George was happy that the woman would be on his ship.

III. Understanding Cause-Effect Relationships

If the underlined part of each sentence below is the cause, write C before it. If the underlined part is the effect, write E. Then draw a line around the clue word or words that helped you to find the cause or the effect.

1. George admired the blue bike because it was a much finer bicycle that any he had seen.

2. The bike’s owner had arrived after he went to bed; therefore, George missed seeing her.

3. The blue bike had fifteen speeds so it could go much faster thanGeorge’s bike.

4. The girl on the blue bike saw George’s bike tip over, and as a result, she stopped to help him.

5. George got up after seven the last morning since he didn’t have far to ride to catch his ship.

IV. Applying Reading Skills

Choose the ending that completes each sentence below correctly according to the story “The Blue Bike”. Then mark the letter of the correct ending before the sentence.


1. Most of the people staying at the youth hostels in Ireland were

a. college students b. small children

c. working people

2. At the hostels, all visitors were expected to

a. arrive on time b. do chores

c. pay in advance

3. Compared to the bikes of other visitors, the blue bike was

a. faster and fancier b. older and cheaper

c. broken down

4. At the end of the story, George was obviously

a. expecting to see the girl again

b. sad that the girl was gone

c. sorry that his vacation was over.


by Oscar Lewis

When I was about eleven years old and still in the first grade, I ran away from home for the first time. I went to Veracruz with no more than the clothes on my back. I had no money to start out with. In those days, I never had a whole peso in my pocket all at once. I was limited to the five centavos my father put under my pillow each morning before he went to work. On Sundays, I got twenty centavos. But I usually spent all my money right away and never had any left. On the road, all the money I had was a few centavos a kind truck driver gave me.

My excuse for running away was that my father scolded me, and in reality, he always did scold me. However, the real reason was that I heard some boys talking about their adventures, and I wanted an adventure myself. So I decided to go to Veracruz. I chose that place because I had been to Veracruz once before with my family.

I walked along the highway as far as Los Reyes. I have always liked walking along a road. I like to walk day and night, until I fall down with exhaustion, and sleep at the side of the highway.

On the highway, I felt happy and carefree. The problem of food didn’t worry me. It was easy for me to go up to a shack and ask for work to do in exchange for a bite to eat. Everybody gave me something to do: draw water from the well, chop wood, or any simple chore like that. Then they’d give me something to eat. Lots of people would tell me to sit down to eat first, and then they wouldn’t let me do anything for them. Sometimes the people would fix up a pack of tortillas and salt for me to take on the road, and off I’d go.

I had laid out a route and went as I had planned. For a long while, no car would stop for me, even though they saw I was a kid. Finally a bus picked me up, and the driver asked where I was from. If I had known that saying I was from Mexico City closed doors, I would have said that I was from somewhere else. Some people from the capital have a very bad reputation. At the carnivals and fiestas, whenever people are caught for doing something wrong, they often turn out to be from there …

I traveled alone. I never wanted to have friends do with me because I have always preferred to be on my own. It is easier for me to get around by myself. I would ask people the way. By asking, I could learn my way to anyplace.

When I left home, I felt as though a great weight was lifted off me. To live with other people is hard. I thought I never wanted to be tied to the family again. Sometimes I would ask for lodging for a night, and I would stay with a family for a few days. But I wasn’t comfortable because what I was looking for was to be free. And so I went, like the air, without difficulty, without direction, free. … People would ask, “Why did you leave home?”

“Because my father scolded me. I have a stepmother,” I always answered. How I used Elena as an excuse! I think that was why I was always making her mad so that I could use her as an excuse. I got what I wanted for the moment. I call myself a scoundrel because I used another person to cover up for me. What I have gone through is nothing compared to what I deserve.

Like all adventures, when I arrived in Veracruz, I asked the way to the sea. I reached it and sat on a navy dock, looking at it all day. The sea was beautiful, overpowering. I saw how the guards, who watch the docks and the cargoes, had nothing else to do but fish. When it was nightfall, I wondered where I would sleep. That was not a big problem there because it was very hot. I decided to stay on one of the beaches, the best and softest one. I slept some distance from the water because of the rise of the tide.

The next day, I felt like eating. The day before, I hadn’t eaten anything because I was so fascinated by watching the sea and the fishing. I went back to the docks because the cargo boats were anchored there. I saw a lot of people, a rough, husky bunch, walking back and forth. I approached the boat cook and asked if he had any work for me to do in exchange for a bite to eat. He felt sorry for me, and it was because of that cook that I got a job as a dock worker for the first time in my life. I carried small packages, and in return, I was given meals. I started work at eight in the morning and stopped at noon, then began at twelve-thirty and quit at four-thirty. I was also given permission to sleep on one of the cargo boats.

After a while, the setup didn’t look as good to me as before. A boat would come in, and I would stick to it like glue. But the next day, it would pull out, and I would be homeless and without food again. I was continually looking for a place to eat and sleep. But I learned that if anybody died of starvation, it was probably due to laziness. I helped the people fishing of the free beaches pull in their nets, and instead of money, they’d give me some of their catch. In one casting, they’d get all kinds of fish. I sold most of my fish, keeping just one or two, which I’d ask someone to cook for me.

I was willing to work at whatever came along so I could eat. I never earned money working. I was given fruit, for the most part, and I even ate wild greens. When ships came in from Tabasco or from places where fruit is grown, I had a feast day! There were times, however, when I didn’t taste bread for two whole weeks.

I began to worry about sleeping on the beach because I heard that the police van was going around the beaches. Anyone found sleeping on the sand was taken to jail. Nothing happened to me, but I slept with less calm, so I decided to leave the beach and head toward the mountains. I didn’t dare go away from the docks in the daytime – they were the source of life for me.

I passed three months in this manner. Then, the time came when I felt like going home. I thought of my family only once in a while, but when I did, I felt like getting back home as fast as I could. There were moments when I felt brave enough to return; then I would lose heart because I thought I would be punished. I never wrote home. I didn’t know how to write a letter, and I didn’t want them to know where I was. I imagined that if my pa found out, he would come to get me and punish me. That is what I thought, but I went home anyway.

The return trip was hard because I had to walk from Veracruz to Puebla. It took me eight or nine days. I walked all the way as no one stopped to pick me up. I took the road that went through Córdoba and arrived at the police booth at the entrance of the city of Puebla. Because my shoes – strong miners’ boots that my father always bought for me – were all worn-out, I asked some truck drivers for a lift to Mexico City, but they refused me. Some of them made fun of me. I paid no attention to them, but for the first time, I felt lonely, as lonely as a feather flying through the air. I sat at the side of the road, crying.

Finally, a police officer noticed and questioned me. He stopped a truck and said, “Take care of this kid adventurer. He’s headed for Mexico City.” I thanked the officer, got into the truck, and finally arrived late at night at the Merced Market, near the Zócalo, the central square of Mexico City. Imagine, I had been to Veracruz but had never seen the Zócalo! When I crossed in front of the National Palace, I was looking at the great big clock in the cathedral as it struck three o’clock in the morning. There I was, all alone in the great plaza. I hurried home, knocked at the neighborhood, and the gatekeeper let me in.

Outside our front door I sat, wondering whether or not to go inside. I expected a terrific scolding from Pa. I started to knock but sat down again. But I was very tired, so I got up my courage and knocked on the door.

My father opened the door in his night clothes. “So you finally got back, son. Well, come on in.” He was so nice. I thought he would give me the hiding of the ages. But he said to me, “Did you have any supper?” We had no kerosene stove then, just a charcoal brazier in which he lit a fire. He heated some beans and coffee and said, “Eat. When you are finished, turn out the light.” Then he went back to bed. As I knew that he left for work early and that he was a light sleeper, I turned out the light and ate in the dark. Then I went to sleep. … He hadn’t even scolded me.

I. Using Context to Get Word Meaning

In each of the following sentences, a word is underlined. Below the sentence, there are three words or groups of words. Read each sentence. Then choose the letter of the word or word group that has the same meaning as the underlined word.

1. Most people believe that, in reality, there are no such things as ghosts.

a. truth b. imagination c. stories

2. “That scoundrel should be punished!” the old man cried angrily.

a. youngster b. young person c. bad person

3. The afternoon heat was overpowering and made me feel cross and tired.

a. very mild b. very pleasant c. very strong

4. All day long, they watched the cargoes being loaded onto ships.

a. goods b. passengers c. vehicles

5. Jill, a husky young woman, was able to carry two cartoons of books up the stairs at the same time.

a. small and weak b. sturdy and strong c. tall and thin

6. To avoid a hiding, the boy did as he was told.

a. reward b. beating c. compliment

II. Making Inferences

Read the following sentences from “Roberto.” Some of the sentences are facts that are stated in the story and others are inferences that are not directly stated. Write F beside each sentence that is a fact and I beside each sentence that is an inference.

1. Roberto ran away from home when he was eleven.

2. Roberto’s excuse for leaving was that his father scolded him.

3. Roberto’s family did not have very much money.

4. Roberto was a self-confident boy, very sure of himself.

5. On the highway to Veracruz, Roberto felt happy and carefree.

6. Roberto was a likeable boy whom most people wanted to help.

7. In Veracruz, Roberto worked on the docks for his food.

8. After three months in Veracruz, Roberto decided to go home.

9. The return trip to Mexico City was not a happy, carefree experience for Roberto.

10. His father opened the door when Roberto returned from Veracruz.

11. Roberto was surprised when his father didn’t scold him.

III. Predicting Outcomes

Write complete sentences to answer the following questions. If possible, give reasons for your predictions.

1. How do you predict Roberto and his father will get along in the future? Tell why you think as you do.

2. Will Roberto now settle down and go to school, or will he continue to look for adventure and freedom? Give reasons for you prediction.

IV. Applying Reading Skills

Choose the ending that completes each sentence correctly according to the story “Roberto.” Then mark the letter of the correct ending before the sentence.

1. Roberto’s real reason for running away was that

a. his father scolded him.

b. his stepmother disliked him.

c. he wanted an adventure.

2. From remarks that Roberto made about himself, you can infer that he was aware of his own

a. bad habits.

b. ignorance.

c. lack of courage.

3. In Veracruz, a constant problem for Roberto was that of

a. avoiding the police.

b. getting food and finding a place to sleep.

c. overcoming fear and loneliness.

4. Roberto believed that if people were hungry, it was because of

a. laziness b. poverty c. unemployment

5. After three months of adventure and freedom, Roberto began to feel

a. bored b. fearful c. homesick

6. On the way back home, Roberto was for the first time

a. tired b. hungry c. lonely

7. Roberto’s greeting from his father was

a. better than he expected.

b. worse than he expected.

c. exactly what he expected.


by Jane Williams Dugel

Wait a minute while I dry my hands and get away from this hot stove. There! You’d never believe to look at me that I am president of Rolling Scones, Inc. I mean, how many presidents do you discover in a kitchen? Not many, I can tell you. Now let me stir this soup once more, and then I’ll tell you how all this happened.

Frankie Flake, this friend of mine, started the whole thing one dark day several years ago when she signaled me to meet her after class.

“Listen, I need help badly,” she breathed. We were standing in front of my locker stuffing potato chips into our mouths. “I told Mrs. Chisholm, who lives near us, that I’d help her with a dinner party tonight. I must have been out of my mind when I said I’d do it. I can’t cook! I never get into the kitchen at home. Let me tell you, coming from a family of twelve has its drawbacks.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked Frankie.

“Come with me. I called Mrs. Chisholm this morning and asked if I could bring someone along to help.”

“Why me?” I asked.

“You’re my friend,” Frankie muttered as she ate another potato chip. “And you know something about cooking, kitchens, and food.”

“So do you,” I said.

“Eating, yes. Cooking, no.”

We arrived at the Chisholms’ house at five o’clock. “You can start by making some radish flowers, Frankie,” Mrs. Chisholm said, tossing some bunches of radishes onto the counter. Then she went with me into the dining room to explain how she wanted the table set.

After a while, I ducked into the kitchen for some silverware. There was poor Frankie bent over the counter with lots of funny-looking little objects in front of her. I saw that she had taken the radishes, still dirty and untrimmed, and had stuck toothpicks into the bottoms of them. “I thought they might look like flower stems,” she whispered hoarsely. “What do you think? Do they look like radish flowers?”

“Look,” I said, “go into the dining room. At each table setting, put a fork on the left and a knife on the right.” It would be easier to do the radishes myself than try to explain it to Frankie.

“Fork, left. Knife, right,” I heard her repeating as I dived into the mess on the counter.

“Fork, left; fork, left,” Frankie was still muttering as she rushed through the swinging door into the dining room – and crashed into Mr. Chisholm, who had just come home from the office.

We helped him to his feet and picked up his papers, the flowers he had brought, his hat, his briefcase, his coat, and the newspaper. He seemed rather stunned. Finally he spoke.

“Who … are … you?” he said slowly. I thought he sounded dangerous. Frankie cleared her throat.

“Your wife, Mrs. Chisholm …”

“I know her name,” he said.

“Hired us. To help. Get dinner. To stir things.”

“To stir things,” he repeated.

“To make radish flowers,” I said softly.

“To put forks on the left,” Frankie whispered. “Your wife …”

“Mrs. Chisholm,” he sighed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and opened them again. Then he said, “You people must have names.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Oh, yes, indeed.” I swallowed.

I should tell you at this point that the reason I know Frankie so well is alphabetical. We’re always given places side by side in school. I mean, her last name is Flake, and you’re not going to believe it, but mine is Flak. You don’t believe it? That’s all right. No one does.

“We are Frankie Flake and Frannie Flak, sir.”

Mr. Chisholm just stood there staring at us. Finally he asked in a very, very quiet voice, “Where is my wife, Mrs. Chisholm?” We pointed upstairs.

The dinner went off very well. I didn’t do that much of the cooking, but Frankie did a surprisingly good job of table setting once she figured out which side was left and which side was right. Anyway, we both kept busy, and Frankie found a lot to eat. But Mr. Chisholm always looked uneasy whenever one of us came near him. He had an ugly bruise on his forehead from the swinging door.

When the party was over, Mrs. Chisholm said, “I’ll be glad to recommend you to my friends, if you’re interested in this sort of thing. You two were great! I really enjoyed my own party!”

Something stirred in my mind. This job really had been fun, and it was a nice switch from baby-sitting or lawn mowing. Maybe if I could learn a little more about real cooking and Frankie could manage to handle the table end of things …

Frankie and I decided to ask Cathy Schneider to join us so that we could have two in the kitchen and one to take care of setting the table. Frankie was in charge of the last job, of course.

We had our first meeting several days after the dinner at the Chisholms’ house. “We’ll have to have a name,” Cathy said when we had ironed out the details. “That way people will remember us. Like … like …”

“I know,” I said. “Something catchy. Something with food in it. Something like … Rolling Scones!”

Our business was born. We selected officers, and I became president. Cathy offered to be treasurer, since she can add and subtract quite easily. That left Frankie, who said, “I’ll be the rank and file.”

I was never busier than I was the next few weeks. Cathy and I spent days studying cookbooks and hanging around my father, who is a pretty good cook. He taught us how to prepare sauces, cheese and egg dishes, gelatin, rolls, stew, and roasts. You name it – we made it. Meanwhile, Frankie was supposed to be learning plain and fancy table setting, napkin folding, and flower arranging.

We finally felt ready to put a small ad in the local newspaper:


Flak, Flake, and Schneider

Catering – Cooking

We listed rates and phone numbers, then crossed our fingers and waited. A week later, we got our first job.

In the next few months, we worked brunches, two major dinner parties, three midnight buffets (Frankie went to sleep at each one), and a large Saturday bridge luncheon. Our fame was growing.

“Frannie? A Mrs. Chisholm called me,” Cathy’s voice came over the telephone. “She needs a special dinner done on the nineteenth. She says that you and Frankie have been there before.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, remembering our first catering job. I wondered if that bruise on Mr. Chilholm’s forehead had ever gone away. “Sure, the nineteenth is free.”

“It’s Harry’s big boss, Mr. Van Welles, and his wife,” Mrs. Chisholm told us when we arrived. “He’s the top man in the New York City office. He’s deciding what to do with the local office this week. He’s thinking about closing it down. But that means that Harry would lose his job! So Harry has spent the last week selling Mr. Van Welles on the great future of this town,” She rattled on in a worried way and finally went upstairs to put the children to bed. Cathy and I started preparing the food in the kitchen. Nearby, Frankie was folding napkins.

Suddenly, at 5:50 P.M., there was what I can best describe as a squeaking/creaking/crashing sound. Before our eyes, the kitchen ceiling fell down in slow motion, bringing with it wallpaper, rubber ducks, tile, plaster and gallons of hot water. Screams sounded from above, and the lights went out.

“Uh … did you notice something?” Frankie whispered.

That brought us to life.

“Get upstairs, quick!” Cathy told Frankie. “Frannie,” she told me, “get mops. Pick up the plaster. I’ll throw the main switch!” and she went off in search of the fuse box. I was picking up plaster when I heard Frankie shout from upstairs that Mrs. Chisholm was hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Chisholm moaned. She was sitting in the upstairs hall near the bathroom door in a pool of water. “My son Teddy left the bath water running – for hours, from the look of things. I opened the bathroom door, and water came pouring out. I guess the plaster had soaked through; anyway, everything went. That’s when I slipped and twisted my ankle.”

Cathy went to clean up the kitchen. Frankie herded the three children into a bedroom and telephoned one of her sisters to come and take care of them for the evening. I helped Mrs. Chisholm to her bed and tried to calm her down about the big dinner.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We have not begun to fight yet!”

Flak, Flake, and Schneider huddled together and hatched battle plans. Then Frankie got on the phone again and lined up her brothers and sisters to help.

I was in the kitchen a little later, working by the light of a gas camp lantern that one of the Flakes had brought. I had things simmering on two camp stoves that another of the numerous Flakes had brought. Those Flakes are good people to have on your side.

“What … are … you … doing?” growled a deep, familiar voice from the open kitchen door.

I whirled around, knocking a bowl to the floor. Mr. Chisholm stood staring at me as if he were having a bad dream. He clutched his coat, hat, and case to his chest. Before I could say anything, he spoke again. “YOU. Don’t tell me Snipp, Snapp, and Snurr, or whatever your names are, have returned.” His eyes slowly traveled to the large hole in the ceiling. Then he noticed the wet piles of debris on the floor, the gas lamps, the camp stoves, wet mops, and the broken bowl. He leaned against the wall and groaned, “My big night …”

“Your wife …” I began.

“I know, I know. Mrs. Chisholm.”

“ … has been hurt,” I snapped angrily. “Don’t just stand there. Go up and help her get dressed, for goodness sake. You’re in my way!”

Well, once again we served a lovely dinner in the Chisholm home. It was lit entirely by candlelight and fireplace light. Mrs. Chisholm looked very nice hopping around on one foot, and she managed to play the gracious hostess through clenched teeth. Mr. Chisholm seemed to like the food we’d made. As for the Van Welleses – well, I never saw two people enjoy themselves more! They loved the candlelight (never knowing the reason for it). In fact, I even heard Mr. Van Welles say that he had not spent such a unique evening in years. I think Mr. Chisholm actually smiled, but I’m not sure.

Well, that’s it. That’s the story. Mr. Chisholm not only kept his job, but a few months later, he was transferred to New York City to the position of vice president of the main office. Vice president in charge of ideas.

But whenever the Chisholms want an extra special catering job done, they send for Flak, Flake, and Schneider. As Mr. Chisholm says, we put him where he is today. And he feels we always give him ideas.

I. Using Context to Get Word Meaning

In each of the following sentences, a word is underlined. Below the sentence, there are three words or groups of words. Read each sentence. Then choose the letter of the word or word group that has the same meaning as the underlined word.

1. The main drawbacks of the lunch program were its poor quality and its high cost.

a. good things b. problems c. reasons

2. By the end of the game, we all spoke hoarsely from shouting so much.

a. in a loud, b. in a low, c. in an angry

strong voice gruff voice voice

3. I recommend Paul’s cake to you; it is delicious!

a. suggest b. recognize c. send

4. The members of the team huddled in the center of the field and talked about what to do next.

a. touched their toes b. thought deeply c. crowded together

5. A pot of stew was simmering all day on the stove.

a. boiling over b. cooking slowly c. cooking rapidly

6. Debris from the shattered buildings lay in the trail of the tornado.

a. windows b. smoke c. remains

7. The car at the auto show was unique in that it had only three wheels.

a. popular b. unfinished c. unusual

II. Analyzing Problems and Solutions

The items below describe some problems that were solved in the story “The Rolling Scones.” Read the question or questions following each item and answer them.

1. Frankie Flake made the mistake of agreeing to help Mrs. Chisholm with a dinner party when she didn’t know how to cook.

How did Frankie solve her problem?

2. Frankie was having difficulties making radish flowers for Mrs. Chisholm.

How did Frannie Flak solve this problem?

3. When the kitchen ceiling fell down just before an important dinner party, the Rolling Scones were faced with several problems.

a) How did they solve the problem of preparing dinner without electricity for the stove?

b) How did they solve the problem of lighting the dining room?

c) How did they care for Mrs. Chisholm who had sprained her ankle and was very upset?

d) How did they solve the problem of taking care of the children?

e) How did they get help in handling the emergency?

4. In spite of the fallen ceiling, the Rolling Scones served a lovely dinner and impressed Mr. Chisholm’s boss.

How did this help Mr. Chisholm to solve an important problem?

III. Applying Reading Skills

Read each of the following incomplete sentences and the endings that follow it. Choose the ending that completes the sentence correctly according to the story “The Rolling Scones.” Then mark the letter of the correct ending before the sentence.

1. From the way Frankie is described, you could infer that she was

a. skinny b. chubby c. tall

2. The description that Frannie gives of her first meeting with Mr. Chisholm is

a. amusing b. embarrassing c. exciting

3. Frannie got the idea of starting a catering business after

a. Mrs. Chisholm asked her to baby-sit.

b. Mrs. Chisholm said she would recommend the girls to friends.

c. Mr. Chisholm bruised his head.

4. Frannie wanted to go into the catering business because

a. it was better than baby-sitting or lawn mowing.

b. her father had suggested the idea.

c. it was something she had always wanted to do.

5. From the way the girls are described, you can conclude that the least talented member of the Rolling Scones was

a. Cathy b. Frankie c. Frannie

6. When the kitchen ceiling fell down, the girls showed that

a. they needed more experience in catering.

b. they were afraid of hard work.

c. they could handle an emergency.

7. The success of the Chisholm’s dinner party was the result of

a. careful planning.

b. a special menu.

c. a team effort.

8. After the special dinner party, Mr. Chisholm said that the girls

a. always gave him ideas.

b. caused him to lose his job.

c. should return to baby-sitting.



by Romare Bearden

and Harry Henderson

One day in 1906, a six-year-old black girl was playing with some red clay that was found everywhere in Green Cove Springs, Florida. This little girl made a discovery. She rolled that sticky clay into a ball. Then she narrowed it and turned up one end to make a point. By squeezing another piece of clay into a long neck and sticking it onto the ball, she made a duck. And she discovered that if she tried harder, she could make it look like a real duck – with its neck gracefully curved and head tucked down or stuck straight out with wings spread.

Although Augusta Savage did not know it then, she had started something she could not stop: making things with her hands in clay, in stone, and sometimes in wood. Shaping things with her strong hands was an act that was always deeply interesting and pleasing to her.

Augusta was the seventh child of fourteen children born to a minister and his wife. The family was poor. There were few toys and playthings. Perhaps this was why Augusta made the duck. Every chance Augusta got, she would go to the clay pits to model ducks, animals, and human figures.

When Augusta was fifteen years old, her family moved to West Palm Beach. Although she looked in many places, she could find no clay there.

Then one day, she was riding in the school wagon with the principal, Professor Mickens. Augusta saw a small factory, the Chase Pottery. Instantly the desire to model something in clay overcame her. She leaped from the wagon and disappeared into the clay factory. When Professor Mickens came in a few minutes later, he saw Augusta begging for some clay from Mr. Chase. “Please, please give me some clay. I want to make something.”

“What can you make? Are you a potter?” asked Mr. Chase.

“No, no. I want to make ducks, chickens, animals, people – statues.”

Mr. Chase scratched his head. He had worked with clay all his life, making pots and vases but not ducks, chickens, or statues. Finally, he said, “All right. Get that bucket over there and fill it. That’ll give you about twenty-five pounds of good clay.”

Augusta took the clay home and immediately set to work making a statue. When Professor Mickens saw the statue, he said that she should teach a class in clay modeling. He got Mr. Chase to provide the clay for the class. And Professor Mickens also got the school board to agree to pay Augusta, still a student herself, a dollar a day for every day taught.

In October 1921, Augusta started to take a four-year sculpture course at Cooper Union, a very fine art school in New York, where classes were free. Augusta passed the first year’s course in one week and the school year’s course in a month. But in February 1922, four months after she had begun, Augusta had to go to Miss Reynolds, the registrar. “I have to stop school,” Augusta said sadly. “I have no more money. I have to get a job; otherwise I will be put out of my room.”

Miss Reynolds told Augusta not to give up. Through a friend, Miss Reynolds immediately got Augusta a part-time job.

Then Miss Reynolds called a meeting of the advisory council of Cooper Union. Miss Reynolds asked the members if they were going to let a talented black woman, one of the first to study sculpture at Cooper Union, leave because she had no money. The council voted to pay for Augusta's room, board, and carfare. Augusta was never happier than when she learned that she could still attend classes.

Later in 1922, Augusta learned that the French government was going to open a summer art school outside Paris. Only one hundred American women students would be accepted. Augusta decided she wanted to go and paid thirty-five dollars to apply for the school. But her thirty-five dollars were returned. She was told that the selection committee was sorry that they could not accept her.

Augusta was badly hurt. She explained her story to some newspaper reporters. “I don’t care much for myself,” she said, “because I will get along all right here. But other and better black students may wish to apply sometime. The school is opening this year, and I am the first black woman to apply. I don’t like to see the selection committee make a rule that may be used later.”

Front-page stories about Augusta appeared day after day. Well-known people tried to get the committee to change its views. But it would not change them.

At this time, something else happened. Because of the newspaper stories, Augusta became the youngest nationally known sculptor. And she made many black people aware that they had fine artists and sculptors among themselves.

The problem of not having enough money still bothered Augusta. She was not able to support herself by selling her art pieces. So she worked in factories and in laundries. When she could, she kept working at her sculpture, making small figures and statues. Sometimes Augusta would sell some of them.

One day on a Harlem street, she met a young boy and asked him to pose for her. Quickly she modeled a head in clay, then scratched the title Gamin into its base. This is the French word meaning “a boy who lives in city streets.”

Not long after Gamin was created, it was seen by Eugene Kinckle Jones of the National Urban League and John E. Nail, well-known in Harlem real estate. They agreed that money had to be collected so that Augusta could have the chance to study under the best artists in Europe. Soon Augusta was in Paris studying the sculpture of faces and heads at one of the newest art schools.

On her return to the Unites States, Augusta again turned to making figures and statues of famous and ordinary people. She showed her pieces at many galleries, and she was the first black woman elected to the National Association of Woman Painters and Sculptors.

The Depression, which left twelve million Americans jobless, was to change the direction of her work. Not having enough money to create the kind of sculpture that she had once dreamed of, Augusta turned to spending most of her time teaching young black artists. Her home in Harlem became a center of creative activity. If a young boy or girl stopped by to see what was happening, Augusta cried, “Come on in.” Opening her classes to anyone interested in painting, drawing, or carving, Augusta drew the gifted children of Harlem to her like a magnet. Soon she had sixty students working in her studio.

One of talented youngsters she brought into her circle was Robert Jones, who had won a Fisher Bodies model contest. Augusta found ways to feed and house him and to include him in her classes. Norman Lewis was another student. Augusta taught him drawing and got him started in painting pictures. One day she was to see him become one of the leading modern painters in the United States.

The young artists worked hard to win her praise, her thoughtful and often sharp attention. She would stand for no foolishness. She told them that only through long, hard work would they become good artists.

When the Depression worsened and it became plain that jobs were needed, Augusta took a leading part in helping black artists to become enrolled in the Works Progress Administration art project. This United States government project provided jobs for painters and sculptors. By the mid-thirties, Augusta was in charge of one of the largest art centers in the government art programs, the Harlem Community Art Center.

Well-meaning friends pointed out that she was spending too much time working on government problems and teaching. But she told them, “I have made nothing really beautiful, really lasting. But if I can help these youngsters to develop the talent I know they have, then my monument will be in their work. No one could ask for more than that.”

Augusta’s last major work was for the 1939-1940 New York World’s Fair. The song “Lift Every Voice” gave her the idea for her sculpture. She built a huge harp, sixteen feet tall. The strings of the harp came down from the heads of a line of singing black boys and girls. The base of the harp was formed by a large forearm and hand with the fingers curved gently upward. Augusta sculptured a kneeling black youth with outflung arms in front of the harp, offering the musical gifts of the black people to the world.

The World’s Fair provided no money for casting the statue in bronze. Instead it was cast in plaster. Thousands of pictures of the statue were sent throughout the world, making it probably Augusta Savage’s best known work, certainly the most widely seen. After the fair, because she had no money for casting the sculpture into bronze or for storing it, her work was smashed by bulldozers as part of the fair’s cleanup.

Augusta Savage died on March 27, 1962. Five years later, three groups joined together to stage the largest show of the work of black artists ever held in the United States. Thousands of people came to see this exhibition. And the work that drew the most attention and the most favorable comments was Gamin, the head of a boy created by Augusta Savage.

Unfortunately, because Augusta could not afford to have her work cast in bronze, many of her statues have been damaged or destroyed. But the energy, understanding, and insight she gave to her young black students live on. Their work is a monument to Augusta Savage.

I. Using Context to Get Word Meaning

In each of the following sentences, a word is underlined. Below the sentence, there are three words. Read each sentence. Then in the blank before it. write the letter of the word that has the same meaning as the underlined word.

1. Sue created new designs for fashionable clothing.

a. copied b. made c. ignored

2. We were glad to hear that the committee had a favorable opinion of our plan.

a. good b. bad c. well-known

3. From Alan’s comments, we could tell that he liked our work.

a. frowns b. questions c. remarks

4. Dave studied the problem from several sides to gain additional insight into it.

a. questions b. understanding c. problems

II. Recognizing Main Ideas and Supporting Details

Quickly reread the paragraphs in the article “Augusta Savage” as listed below. Then read the sentences that follow each of these listings. Write M.I. beside the sentence that states the main idea of that section and S.D. before the supporting details.

(Read the first three paragraphs on page 83)

1. When she was six years old, Augusta found some clay and made it into animal and human figures.

2. There were few toys and playthings in Augusta’s family.

3. When Augusta discovered that she could model things with her hands, she was starting something she couldn’t stop.

(Read from paragraph 3 through paragraph 5 on page 84)

1. The registrar at Cooper Union helped Augusta stay in art school.

2. The registrar got Augusta a part-time job.

3. The registrar persuaded the advisory council of Cooper Union to pay for Augusta’s room, board, and car fare.

(Read the last paragraph on page 85 through the first three paragraphs on page 86)

1. When the Depression worsened, Augusta helped black artists to enroll in the Works Progress Administration art project.

2. Augusta’s home became a center of creative activity.

3. During the Depression, Augusta helped many young black artists to develop their talents.

(Read from the paragraph that ends at the bottom of page 86 through the end of the selection.)

1. Augusta’s last major work was smashed by bulldozers.

2. Although much of Augusta’s work has been lost, her real monument lies in the work of young black artists whom she inspired.

3. Since Augusta’s statues were not cast in bronze, many of them have been destroyed or damaged.

III. Applying Reading Skills

Read each of the following incomplete sentences and the endings that follow it. Choose the ending that completes the sentence correctly according to the biography “Augusta Savage.” Then mark the letter of the correct ending before the sentence.

1. Augusta first taught classes in clay modeling

a. at Cooper Union.

b. during the Depression.

  1. when she was in high school.

2. From the fact that Augusta passed the first year’s course at Cooper Union in one week and the second year’s course in a month, you can infer that

a. Augusta was very talented.

b. Augusta had nothing else to do.

  1. the courses were very easy.

3. Augusta’s work attracted the attention of black leaders in Harlem, and as a result,

a. her work was shown in many galleries throughout New York.

b. money was collected so that she could study in Paris.

  1. she was elected to the National Association of Women Pictures and Sculptors.

4. Augusta Savage’s best known sculpture was created for

a. a Works Progress Administration art project.

b. the Harlem Community Art Center.

  1. the 1939-1940 World’s fair in New York.

5. One of Augusta’s most admired works of art, which is still in existence today, is

a. a boy’s head.

b. a group of children.

  1. a small harp.

6. Augusta Savage’s greatest remaining monument is

a. a collection of famous sculptures.

b. a Harlem art center.

  1. the work of her black students.


by Charles F. Berlitz

Much has been written about the strange happenings in the area known as the Bermuda Triangle. This is one man’s account.

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