Marmara Elt Resources

ESL Literature Library-The Indian Who Lost His Wife
(Retold by Andrew Lang)
ONCE upon a time there was a man and his wife who lived in the forest
far from the rest of the tribe. Very often they spent the day in
hunting together, but after awhile the wife found that she had so many
things to do that she was obliged to stay at home; so he went alone,
though he found that when his wife was not with him he never had any
luck. One day, when he was away hunting, the woman fell ill, and in a
few days she died. Her husband grieved bitterly and buried her in the
house where she had passed her life; but as the time went on he felt so
lonely without her that he made a wooden doll about her height amid
size for company and dressed it in her clothes. He seated it in front
of the fire and tried to think he had his wife back again. The next
day he went out to hunt, and when he came home the first thing he did
was to go up to the doll and brush off some of the ashes from the fire
which had fallen on its face. But he was very busy now, for he had to
cook and mend, besides getting food, for there was no one to help him.
And so a whole year passed away.
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ESL Literature Library-Manabozho and the Woodpeckers
(Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft)

MANABOZHO lost the greater part of his magical power through letting
his young wolf grandson fall through the thin ice and drown. No one
knew where his grandmother had gone to. He married the arrow maker’s
daughter, and became the father of several children, but he was very
poor and scarcely able to procure a living. His lodge was pitched in a
distant part of the country, where he could get no game, and it was
winter time. One day he said to his wife, “I will go out walking and
see if I can find some lodges.”

After walking some time he finally discovered a lodge at a distance.
There were children playing at the door, and when they saw him
approaching they ran in and told their parents Manabozho was coming.
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The Donkey and the Elephant (A Fable)
Once upon a time, in a magical land far across the sea, there lived together a donkey and an elephant. This was very difficult, because they both had such different ways. The elephant loved to trample trees and make a lot of noise, while the donkey nibbled on lowly grasses and said almost nothing.
One day, the elephant noticed the donkey eating his grass and thought; “Hmm.Why not talk the donkey into giving me some of his grass? The donkey, stupid as he is, would never have a clue about what I am doing, and maybe I could even persuade him that I was doing it for his own good!”
So that night, the elephant made a call on the donkey. “Hello my good friend. How are you this wonderful evening,” said the elephant. The donkey replied, “Fine, but it seems like any other evening to me, and not too wonderful.”

“But that is because your glass is half-empty,” said the elephant. “Things are what you make them!”
“I’m not convinced of that,” said the donkey, “but you seem happy, while I am perhaps too serious. Tell me, what is your secret?”
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The Cask of Amontillado-Edgar Allan Poe
THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. AT LENGTH I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled — but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile NOW was at the thought of his immolation.
He had a weak point — this Fortunato — although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian MILLIONAIRES. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen , was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.
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