&&000 CANADIAN SCHOOLBOOKS                                                        CA805C04.TXT

GRADE 5, from the 1980s

COMBINED FILE: CA805.TXT & CA8052.TXT into CA805C.TXT

Sampled from Toronto by dph 9-10, 2003
1st edit by dph 19 dec 2003  14:10
RE-EDITED FOR RESIDUALS 3/23/04
Re-re-edited 21 June 2005

&&111

=David's coat and scarf and half pushing him into the living room. "Hi, =David," =Bob said.
"Hello," =David walked slowly into the room, looking around as if he hoped to see something
familiar. His hair stood up at the back of his head where he had pulled off his toque. His large
ears were red with cold.
=Bob went to pick up the suitcase. Strapped on the outside was a bat with a long blade, flat on
one side and wedged shaped on the other. It had a long handle covered in red rubber.
"Hey, is that a cricket bat?" =Bob asked.
"Of course it is," =David snapped. "What does it look like?"
There was a silence; the tiny voice of =FosterHewitt crackled from the radio and the crowd
cheered. Mr =Williams turned the radio off.
"Well, we don't play too much cricket around here, =David, not at this time of year. It's mostly
hockey."   "I don't have a hockeybat."
=Bob laughed and the four adults all smiled. =David turned bright red.
"I mean stick. Everyone knows it's a stick. Hockey's a stupid girls'  game. Jolly hockey sticks," he
shouted.
"It's okay, =David," Aunt =Peg said. "There's no need to get upset over a little slip of the tongue.
It just sounded a bit funny to us, that's all."
=David glowered for a moment, relaxed and then said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't fly off the handle
like that."
"Why is everyone standing around?" Mr =Williams said. "Mrs =Smith, sit down, and you too,
=Mary. I'll get you some coffee. =Bob, take that case upstairs. You must be starving, =David.
Come into the kitchen and we'll fix you some bacon and eggs."
=Bob carried the case upstairs, and turned on the light in his room. It looked very small. The big
bed took up a lot of space. When =Bob put the suitcase down at the foot of the bed there was not
much room to spare. "Well, he's here now," =Bob thought and laughed to himself as he
remembered the hockeybat.

"But my friend isn't yet accustomed to it."
=Apis coughed again. "This, your Majesty, is Miss =NancyClancy whom you already know, and
this is =Ned. =Ned and =Nancy, Queen =Selma."
"What would you like me to say, you two?" Queen =Selma asked in a slightly cracked voice.
I was surprised to find she could talk just the same as =Apis, and my mouth must have hung open
for a second. The Queen noticed it, laughed, and began talking fast.
"Oh yes," she said, "my good friend =Apis has taught me how to talk radio. I can say, Good
morning, children like Mrs =Martin in =Martin'sCorner or I can say Good day, kids like =Dave in
=Dad and =Dave. Which would you prefer to hear?"
I was speechless as =Selma rattled off the names of radio shows, but Miss =Nancy =Clancy was
able to say, "I think I'd like to hear Good morning, children."
"All right," said the Queen. "Good morning, children!"
"Good morning, Your Majesty," =NancyClancy sang, bowing as low as she could on the crooked
floor.
"Now," said Queen =Selma, looking at me with large black eyes, "I have to ask this young man
some questions, grill him, get him to come clean. Miss =NancyClancy tells me that when she was
young there was a queen called =Victoria who never laid any eggs. Is she still alive?"
"No," I said. "No, Queen =Victoria died a long time ago."
"Of course," =Selma sniffed. "No one wants a queen who doesn't lay eggs."
I thought it wouldn't be polite to tell the beautiful =Selma that humans never expected Queen
=Victoria to lay eggs.
"Enjoy your stay then," said Queen =Selma. "And, as they say in =Rick the Frontier Scout, I'm
going head down that there canyon. Good morning."
She waved her feelers especially gracefully, turned and swayed away, and all the fanners and
escort bees fell in at her side, marching sideways, keeping her company.
sun pierced the statue like a sword, and in the western sky clouds gathered. Birds fluttered in the
chestnut trees, waiting for night. The statue's eyes stared straight ahead. A starling perched on the
pedestal on which she stood, and for a moment both child and bird were trapped in time. Then
the boy ran across the lawn, schoolbooks under his arm, and the bird rose into the air with a cry.
Placing his books on the grass, the boy sat down cross-legged and gazed at the girl. She was
becoming a part of the sunset and clouds seemed to drift through her eyes. The autumn rose
petals fell about her feet. "What will happen to you when it snows?" the boy asked. "Will you
feel the cold?" He thought of the statue standing in snow as the wind whipped her face. He saw a
white mantle covering her dress and hair. Suddenly he longed to take her home with him, to a
place where winter would not hurt her.
Hearing footsteps behind him, the boy turned and found himself staring into the eyes of the
gardener. The old man had forgotten his clippers and had come back for them. For a second,
neither the man nor the boy spoke. Then the gardener sat down on the grass.
"I come to visit her too," he said. "Been doing it for years."
"Why?" the boy asked.
"Don't know," said the gardener. "Don't know."
The boy felt that he did know, and that the old man had stories to tell. "I come here every day
after school," he confessed. "Do you know who she is?"
The gardener gazed across the lawn. "Well, yes I do. In a way. But everyone has his own version
of things. You know that."
"Who is she?"
After studying the boy, the old man seemed to change his mind about something. "It's this way,"
he said. "I hadn't been born yet, at the time of the fire, but when I was growing up I heard stories
about it. It seems that this girl here was an only child, very sensitive and delicate, and very close
to her mother. The father loved her too, but it was the mother she cared about. You understand?"
"Yes," the boy said.
"They were fine people, real gentry, and the girl had everything.


the gardener, partly from habit, would clip away the rose stalks that brushed her dress. Standing
in the early light, the man would stare at the child's old-fashioned clothes and buttoned shoes, her
long hair and folded hands, and the past would come back to him like a clouded dream. To the
gardener, this girl was a part of something he had lost and could not name. But unlike him, she
would never grow old.
The boy was a different matter. Taking a shortcut to school one day, and crossing the lawn of the
estate, he had come upon the statue and had stood transfixed. It was not just that the child was
life-size and that she belonged to another era. His interest was roused by her face. The sculptured
mouth was the most beautiful he had ever seen, and the eyes, though expressionless, seemed to
hold depth and color. The nose was perfect and small, and the high forehead was aristocratic.
He could not take his gaze from the statue and stood there for a long time, waiting for her to
speak. At last he realized how foolish this was, and went off to school. But each day he found
himself returning to the garden, and each day it seemed as though the statue might speak to him.
He was fourteen and the statue appeared to be a girl of twelve. Yet whenever he was with her, the
boy felt that both of them were older.
The sun rose higher. Dew burned from the grass and dried on the child's crystal hair. The
rainbow colors left her face and were replaced by a steady light. On a distant highway, cars and
trucks could be heard. Inside the house, a telephone rang. A neighbor's dog sprinted across the
lawn, barking at pigeons that clustered in the driveway. Present and past swam together in the
sun while the statue glowed.
The old gardener appeared and stood staring at the girl. She looked different today, as though she
had moved in the night, and her mouth was not as sad as usual. After studying her for a while, he
put these thoughts away and began to clip the rose stalks that were touching her crystal dress. He
had never had a child of his own and sometimes pretended that the statue was his child. Gently,
he talked aloud to her. Gently, he clipped at the roses.
By late afternoon the garden was deserted.


Once upon a time there was a young man who, when his father died, had no one left in the world.
He decided that he must look for work. For three days he wandered about the country until he
came at last to a village where there
was a castle. He went up and knocked on the castle door.
The king himself answered. "What can I do for you, my fine
fellow?" he asked.
"I am alone in the world," said the young man. "I have neither father nor mother nor sister nor
brother, and I am looking for work. Do you have anything that needs to be done?"
The king thought for a moment. He looked the young man over and observed how fine and
strong he was. "Yes," he said, I could use a hard worker, as I have no sons of my own. I will
adopt you and treat you like my own son. The pay will not be great, but when I die you will
inherit my throne."
The young man was overjoyed at his good fortune, so he stayed
     at the castle, and he and the king became very fond of each other.
After several months had passed, the young prince was wandering one day through the castle
grounds when he came upon a most beautiful garden. An iron fence surrounded the garden and
the gate was locked. Through the fence the prince glimpsed the most rare and unusual flowers he
had ever seen. He was just about to climb over the fence when a deep and fearful voice said, "Do
not enter this garden or you will become an enchanted beast."
The prince looked around him but he could see no one. He climbed over the fence and gathered
an armful of the beautiful flowers, for he knew that the king's birthday was near, and he wanted
to give him a truly unusual gift. With the flowers in his arms, the prince was about to climb back
over the fence when he saw standing before
him a dreadful beast.
eighty-rupee reward to =te given to anyone who =snot =Uiie tiger. They wrote it on paper.
Runners took this message to other villages near and far.
Miles away, in the town of =Chuka, a boy, =Azad, sat on the floor of his small house, making out
of wood shavings and sticks and cotton a circle of animals. Then, with a toy rifle, he pretended to
stalk a black panther. Toy antelopes, an elephant, and a leopard stood nearby on wobbly legs.
"Pow!" said =Azad, knocking down the panther. =Putli, his mother, watched as she mended an
old torn blanket. She shook her head at the killing. "Bad enough to have one hunter in the
family!" she cried. =Azad's father, =Mustapha, knew how to build snares and dig pits. He was an
animal catcher. =Mustapha was tying a;loop snare. He wore glasses, but his deep-set eyes were
sharp for anything hiding in the soft grass.
There was a noise at the door-the weary runner had arrived from =Onangapur.
=Azad listened as his father spoke to the man, who told him about the reward of eighty rupees for
hunting that sly devil, the red tiger.
=Mustapha was known for hitting his mark with every shot.
"Yes, I will try," he at last told the runner. "We owe money to Mr =Punjab, and this is not the
season for catching zoo and circus animals."
They shook hands. =Putli gave the runner a cup of tea before he left.
=Azad stood up. Plucking at his father's sleeve, he said, "Please, I have never gone with you,
Father. Take me along! I might as well start now because one day I want to be as great a hunter
as you."
"No," said his mother quietly. "I wish you to become a doctor or teacher instead."
"Listen to your mother, son," said =Mustapha, checking over a battered muzzle-loading rifle.
"It is not the same as shooting a toy wood panther," warned



Some masks were more colorful, others more amusing or bizarre, but without hesitation, =Emma
chose this mask to pull over her face. It was large for her eleven-year-old head, but her hand was
holding it so tightly in place that she soon began to smell the wood that the mask had been carved
from. Suddenly, =Emma felt very warm. Darkness filled her face. Darkness filled the room.
Darkness was everywhere. And then the darkness began to grow brighter. And brighter.
=Emma blinked as her eyes adjusted to the vivid white light that surrounded her. She was no
longer in her aunt's apartment: where in the world was she?
She was part of a circle of people who were dressed in masks just like hers. Their arms were
outstretched and they were moving together in strange dancing rhythms, moving to the beat of a
drum, drum, drum. As the dancers leapt high and stamped- the ground, wild cries echoed around
the circle- =aweyaiooo. The mask covering her face swept =Emma, too, into the tribal
ritual.
The dancers moved faster and faster. The chanting and the beating grew louder and louder.
=Emma felt her ears pounding. She became so frightened that she ripped the mask from her face.
Immediately, the white light vanished, the drumming stopped, and the dancing tribe disappeared.
=Emma was back in the apartment. She could still hear her aunt's voice coming from the kitchen.
No one would ever know what she had done. =Emma went over to the wall to put the mask back
where it belonged.
She looked over the display and began to wonder what other opportunities might be before her. If
the primitive mask took her to a world of tribal ritual, what would happen if she tried on another?
Would she once again be able to travel to another place, perhaps to another time?
Aunt =Rachael's masks stared silently at =Emma. She examined a white =Japanese face
decorated
with simple black and red geometric designs. Next to it was a papier-mache  with hollow,
ghostlike eyes, and beside that a =Mexican mask bore finely painted lace .

TALES OF THE =HODJA

The =Hodja was walking home when a man came up behind him and gave him a thump on the
back of the head. When the =Hodja turned round, the man began to apologize, saying that he had
taken him for a friend of his. The =Hodja, however, was very angry at this assault upon his
dignity and dragged the man off to the court. It happened, however, that his assailant was a close
friend of the cadi, and after listening to the two parties in the dispute, the cadi said to his friend:
"You are in the wrong. You shall pay the =Hodja a farthing damages."
His friend said he had not that amount of money on him, and went off, saying he would fetch it.
=Hodja waited and waited, and still the man did not return. When an hour had passed, the
=Hodja got up and gave the cadi a mighty thump on the back of his head.
"I can wait no longer," he said. "When he comes, the farthing is yours."

Once the =Hodja borrowed a large cauldron from his neighbor, and when some time had passed,
he placed a small metal coffee can in it and took it back to its owner.
"What is that?" said the latter, pointing to the small can.
"Oh, your cauldron gave birth to that while it was in my possession."
for Mr =Gabby, and a glass of milk for himself. Then they all sat down at the lunch counter to
enjoy another few doughnuts apiece.
"I'm so glad you enjoy my doughnuts," said the lady. "But now, =Charles, we really must be
going. If you will just take this apron, =Homer, and put two dozen doughnuts in a bag to take
along, we'll be on our way. And, =Charles, don't forget to pay the young man." She rolled down
her sleeves and put on her jewelry, then =Charles managed to get her into her big fur coat.
"Good night, young man, I haven't had so much fun in years. I really haven't!" said the lady, as
she went out the door and into the big shiny car.
"Those are sure good doughnuts," said Mr =Gabby as the car moved off.
"You bet!" said =Homer. Then he and Mr =Gabby stood and watched the automatic doughnut
machine make doughnuts.
After a few dozen more doughnuts had rolled down the little chute, =Homer said, "I guess that's
about enough doughnuts to sell to the after theater customers. I'd better turn the machine off for a
while."
=Homer pushed the button marked STOP and there was a little click, but nothing happened. The
rings of batter kept right on dropping into the hot fat, and an automatic gadget kept right on
turning them over, and another automatic gadget kept right on giving them a little push and the
doughnuts kept right on rolling down the little chute, all ready to eat.
"That's funny," said =Homer, "I'm sure that's the right button!" He pushed it again but the
automatic doughnut maker kept right on making doughnuts.
"Well I guess I must have put one of those pieces in backwards," said =Homer.
"Then it might stop if you pushed the button marked START,"
said Mr =Gabby.
=Homer did, and the doughnuts still kept rolling down the little
chute, just as regular as a clock can tick.
"I guess we could sell a few more doughnuts," said =Homer, "but
beach with my family. I went to =Patti's parents' swimming pool club lots of times. Everybody
acted normal there .
I figured that the beach would be a perfect place to unweird my family-they would be surrounded
by normal people. They couldn't help learning to act normal!
I ran into the front yard. "Let's go to the beach," I said.
My father got into one of his big-word moods: "You, =Cindy, are a true inspiration," he said.
"There is nothing quite so lovely as the beach-the magic place where land meets water. And
incidentally, my increasing perspiration as I labor with these plants makes the idea additionally
appealing."
"I haven't been to the beach in years," said my mother. She threw down her pruning shears. "Let's
go," she said.
My mother told =Sarah that we were going to the beach. We all changed into our beach clothes.
Then we piled into our van, which has a big painting of a rainbow on the outside.
We were about to leave when my mother said, "Wait a minute!" She jumped out of the van and
ran around it three times. While she ran, she flapped her elbows like a bird and made crowing
noises. Luckily, we were in our own driveway. I don't think anyone saw her.
When she got back in the van, she said, "Now we should have good weather at the beach. That
was a sun dance one of my fencing students taught me."
On the, way to the beach, we saw a teenage girl hitchhiking.
My father pulled over to pick her up. She climbed into the van, saying, "Thanks a lot!" Then she
looked around and got very quiet. She looked kind of scared.
I didn't blame her for being scared. I saw her look at my father. He had his safari hat on to keep
the sun off the bald top of his head. His arms were covered with tattoos he had painted with
watercolors. The tattoos on his left arm were pictures of animals. Along his right arm, he had
painted, "Have you hugged an airplane cleaner today?"
I saw the hitchhiker look at my mother.


He slumped down next to a cabbage and lowered his head.
It was all over. Let them come in the morning, take him, and stuff him.

The extraterrestrial dove between rows of vegetables and flattened himself out there, arranging a
few leaves over his protruding shape.
There's nothing to fear, said a tomato plant. It's only the =PizzaWagon.
Not knowing what a =PizzaWagon might be, the extraterrestrial remained in the leaves.
The =Wagon stopped in front of the house. A door in the house opened and he saw an Earthling
emerge.
That's =Elliott, said the green beans. He lives here.
The extraterrestrial peeked over the leaves. The Earthling was only slightly taller than he was.
But the Earthling's legs, of course, were grotesquely long and his stomach did not hang on the
ground in the elegant manner of certain higher life forms-but he was not too terribly frightening
to behold.
The boy went down the driveway and out of sight.
Go around the side, said the tomato. You'll get a good view of him returning.
But the dog .
The dog is tied, said the tomato. He ate =Mary's overshoes.
The extraterrestrial scampered out of the vegetable patch and circled the house. But the lights of
the =PizzaWagon suddenly swept the yard as it turned in the drive and he panicked; wrenching
himself along, he leapt onto the fence and started to climb over. One of his long toes accidentally
depressed the gate latch and he found himself swinging back into the yard.
The Earthling was near, was looking his way.
Quickly he covered his heart-light, dropped from the gate and dove into the toolshed, where he
crouched, fearful mist surrounding him.
He'd trapped himself, but there were tools in the shed, a digging fork with which to defend
himself. In many ways it resembled tools
head. "Honestly, these computers are getting as bad as telephones. I don't like it. Anybody can
contact you."
"Mom, you don't understand. Anybody cannot .
"Let me finish. I do not want you to give out your name and address over the computer. I mean it.
Any weirdo can."
"I cannot believe this," =Kate said. "For once in my life something interesting has happened, and
all you can do is talk about the dangers. If I came home and said I'd been elected President of the
=UnitedStates, you'd say, `Well, I do not want you going to foreign countries because blah  blah 
blah. "
"=Kate, we care about you. We =Kate, don't turn away. =Sam, talk to your daughter."
Dr =Morrison straightened. He said, "Well, I would like to see the self-portrait my beautiful
daughter did on the computer." He smiled and held out his hand.
=Kate looked down at the sheet of paper in her hand. Without smiling back, she handed it to him.
Her father held the picture up to the light. "And after somebody saw this, they sent you a
message?"
"Yes, why? Do you think it's funny-looking?" =Kate leaned over his arm and took another look.
"It's not funny-looking at all, =Kate," her mother said. "It's very nicely done, büt getting back to-"
Abruptly =Kate pulled the sheet of paper from her father. "You never like anything I do."
=Kate!"
"It's true. That is the story of my artistic life-total rejection."
"=Kate, that's not fair. We like your"
"You know what this reminds me of?" Kate stepped away from her parents, toward the door. "In
kindergarten one time I drew a picture of the world-the entire world! How many people do you
know who have drawn a picture of the entire world? I remember Miss =Elliot gave me a special
sheet of newsprint, and I drew and drew, and when I got through there was this enormous green
ball with trees and mountains and foreign people popping out all over
They joined =Lester and =Adam beside the stream and the four of them drank greedily.
The little =Quaker paced nervously beside them.
"You must come inside the barn." His voice remained gentle but firm. "I must be on my way
soon. If we are tracked down here there is no way I can protect you."
They followed him inside the barn. It was sweet smelling and dry. Someone had covered the
floor with new-mown hay. They had made it ready for them. There was a bundle of food near the
door.
The little driver drew all of them close to him beside an open window. He placed a round glass
object on the flat window-sill. A black needle quivered inside it. He showed them how the needle
always pointed north-the same as the =NorthStar.
"I am leaving this compass with you," he explained, and he chipped it slightly with his knife a
little east of north. "You must not follow the needle straight north, it is too dangerous. Go east
until you come to the =Cumberland Mountains near the city of =Knoxville. In the mountains
there are caves for shelter and =Indian paths to guide you."
The fugitives listened carefully. =Julilly repeated the strange names over and over in her mind.
The little man pushed his wide-brimmed hat back from the shadows of his face. For the first time
=Julilly noticed his bushy grey eyebrows and deep-set kindly eyes. He talked about mountain
ranges they would cross and cities they would come to. He believed they were going to get to
Canada. All four of them needed this faith in their venture. They drew closer to him, more
hopeful than they had been since leaving =MassaRoss. The kindly man looked into the faces of
each of them, as they stood quiet and expectant around him.
"I just wish I could take you right to the border of =Canada." There was unexpected fervor in
his voice. "Slavery is a horrible evil."
He pulled a round, sturdy watch from his pocket-then checked the position of the sun in the sky.
He became nervous again and spoke quickly.
     

They turned on their radio to listen for news of the county schools. But the radio announcer said
that, as far as he knew, all the schools were open. The county superintendent had not called.
=Ellie kicked the bottom of the refrigerator. But her sisters squealed with delight.
Okey said, "Well, praise the Lord. I couldn't have stood staying cooped up with six women in this
house." Then he went outside to check on =Bullet.
=Ellie slowly pulled on her clothes. The real reason she didn't want to go to school was not the
staying at home. She didn't want to go because it was =Valentine'sDay, and she couldn't bear it if
no boy gave her a special valentine. She had already considered being sick for the day, but the
thought of staying around Okey and her mother and their squawking had changed her mind.
She knew why her sisters were so happy to be going to school. They all had boyfriends and they
knew something special was waiting for them.
Nothing was waiting for =Ellie but disgrace.
The snowploughs had been through during the night, so the only real trouble they had walking to
the bus stop was getting out of their yard. Huge drifts lay alongside the road, and the trees
suffered under heavy sleeves of snow. It was still dark, for the sun hadn't risen yet, but the snow
served as some illumination. The girls tramped out to the stop.
Their bus stop was one of the few that had a shelter. Just a wooden building with three walls and
no front, but it kept the wind off on bitter mornings.
This morning, though, the snow had been shoved by the plough right up to the shelter and partly
into it. About four feet high. Enough to discourage anybody with cold feet and legs from trying to
dig through. "Oh, no!" cried =Eunice. She had taken an especially long time to arrange her hair at
home. Standing in the road, waiting for the

If that is what it's all about, I don't want it.'"
Fortunately, just into her second season with the =NationalBallet, =Karen was given her first solo
role. Other leads followed, and before long she was a principal ballerina with the company.
Soon =Karen was performing before enthusiastic audiences in the dancing capitals of the world.
She made guest appearances with such illustrious companies as the =AmericanBalletTheatre,
=Moscow'sBolshoi and the =LondonFestivalBallet. She became a favorite partner of =Rudolf
=Nureyev, the reigning ballet superstar. New roles were created for her and new ballets.
As dance critic =JohnFraser put it, =KarenKain had "emerged into the ranks of the world's
leading ballerinas, a charmed circle whose membership one can count on the fingers of both
hands."
Today, =Karen is in her prime as a dancer. "But, she smiles, "I can face the fact that I am not
going to be able to dance forever. I don't feel I am so narrow that once I stop dancing, that's it. I'll
find another channel. There is more to life than dance. There are so many things I've never
investigated that I am curious about."
The possibilities for =Karen include teaching, acting, modeling, or even something new and
exciting that she has not yet dreamed of.
"Whatever happens," she laughs, "I'll still keep busy after my dancing days are done. I've been
working hard since I was eleven. That's an old, old habit, and it's not easy to break."
For anyone thinking about a career in dance, =Karen says:
"Ballet takes tremendous hard work. And it's a rough life-in so many ways. To be able to take the
bad with the good, you have to have an enormous love of dancing. If you have that love, it can be
a wonderful life. But if there are other things that interest you equally or more, I wouldn't
recommend it."
=Karen pauses, looking back over a lifetime of single-minded devotion to ballet:
"For myself, I've loved every minute of it," she concludes. "I'm not sorry I did it."
It's a sentiment that ballet lovers all over the world will echo.


From =David's window you can see the viaduct going along through the streets and houses. The
rails have been taken up and so have the sleepers. The viaduct is growing a wildflower garden all
along.
"I really would like to walk up on down there," said =Dulcie.
"I'll take you," said =David. "We find a way."
They went down =RailwayLane, beside the arches. Some of the arches are used as workshops.
They have big wooden doors built across them.
Beams on the doors give footholds.
=Dulcie climbed up to the top of one of the doors. But it was a long way from the top of the door
to the top of the viaduct. "Come down, =Dulcie, you gonna fall," =David called to her. She came
down.
A way further there is a junkyard. An old bus is in the junkyard, right beside the viaduct. It has
big blue eyes on the front to see the way. =Dulcie and =David went up to the top deck, and
looked through the broken window at the viaduct.
"We get a plank of wood," said =David, "and we put it across and walk over. Easy."
"A plank would be good and steep," said =Dulcie. "Not too much," said =David.
They looked all over the dump, but they couldn't find a plank long enough.
A way further, and they found an open arch, piled full of old oil drums.
=David began to pile up the drums. But there was a tramp asleep behind them. He was angry.
"I don't come in your place, moving all the things around, do I?" he shouted at them. They ran.
"We go ask =Lesley," =David said. "He did say he been up there." =Lesley's dad cleans windows
when he is home. He keeps a long
ladder in the back yard. He leaves it leaning against the viaduct. And they all climbed up as easy
as pie.
They walked high and happy among all the weeds flowering in
the gravel, and even beginning trees growing there. They could see down into all the yards.


.
One morning the man left the house and gave his daughter his usual instruction and warning. "If
someone passes on the road, stay away from the windows. If someone knocks, don't answer. I
could tell you terrible stories." Then he left, and the girl began work on a broken lantern.
Now this morning some good luck happened to the man. As he was passing a rich man's house, a
clumsy kitchen maid chased two cats out the front door with a broom and knocked over a large
porcelain vase. The vase rolled out the door and down the steps and path, and shattered to pieces
against a marble pillar near the roadway. The man stopped, and watched. The maid closed the
door. The man waited there for ten minutes. No one came out. Then he leaped down from his cart
and gathered up the broken porcelain. He set the pieces gently in his cart and hurried off toward
home.
His daughter, as usual, was safe and sound inside. "This is fine porcelain," the man said. "Drop
whatever you're doing and patch it up. We'll get a good price for it."
It was early in the day yet, so the man left again to see what else he might find. He remembered
to pause at the door and say, "Stay inside. Terrible things are going on out there. Dog-eat-dog, the
devil take the hindmost, and so forth." Then he left.
The girl turned a piece of porcelain in her fingers, admiring its beauty. She carefully laid the
pieces on a blanket and got out the glue. Then, humming to herself and musing on fanciful
thoughts in the way she had acquired from being so much alone, she began to put the pieces of
porcelain together. She worked quickly and neatly even though her thoughts were completely
elsewhere, and at the end of a couple of hours she was amazed to see that she had just set the last
piece in place on a full-sized porcelain man. And at that moment the porcelain man spoke.
"I love you," he said, taking a step toward the girl.
"Gracious!" gasped the girl, snatching up the blanket and throwing it about the man. "Gracious!"
she gasped again as the porcelain man encircled her in his arms and kissed her.



But he always did return, and then they were happy again, and did not think about the next time,
and the year would go by in its cycle of spring ploughing, and hay-making, and harvesting, and
gathering in for the winter. Life was bleak in those days for most people, and short. Famine and
disease were all around: the winter was a time to be endured, the summer a brief spell when life
was not easy, but a little less hard. Even the rich, like the knight and the lady, lived close to
suffering: they faced disease, and cold, and the knight knew that his fortunes might swing low at
any time, if his enemies grew more powerful than his friends. But so long as they had one
another, the knight and the lady, all this was bearable. They lived in one day and did not think too
much about the next. It was a long, sunny day and there did not seem any reason why it should
not go on forever.
And then, one evening, riding out of a golden summer sky, there came a messenger from the
great baron, and the news that he brought was so bad that the knight could not at first speak of it
to the lady. He went away alone into the forest with his dogs and walked among the trees and it
seemed to him that the world had become as black as the night that was gathering around him.
For what the messenger had brought was a summons that would take him away from the lady not
for weeks or months but for years, and not to another part of =England but to places so far away
and so strange that the knight could not even think about them.
He was to go on a =Crusade. He was to go with the baron down through =France and =Italy and
across the sea to the country called the =HolyLand. He was to become part of the army called a
=Crusade that would fight the =Saracens and make =Jerusalem safe again for the =Christian
pilgrims who wanted to visit the holy places there.
The knight did not know where =Jerusalem was. He did not know where =France was or =Italy,
except that they were across the sea: he had never seen a map. He did not particularly want to
fight the =Saracens. Above all, most deeply and passionately, he did not want  to leave the lady.

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5TH GRADE --  2ND SAMPLE from OISE/UT on 12 January 2004
Sampled and edited by dph   Jan 19 2004

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"I did not harpoon a seal the first time I went on the hunt," he whispered.
=Napayuk said nothing. He had wanted the seal because of his grandfather.
"There are many disappointments in life," the old man went on. "If each one were carried around
on our shoulders, soon we would sink from their weight."
=Napayuk turned to look at =Kalugjak. He had great respect for his grandfather's opinion.
=Kalugjak smiled the tender, toothless smile he kept for =Napayuk. "There will be other hunts,
my son. You will become a mighty hunter. Are you not the son of =Pangiyuk, and is not
=Pangiyuk the son of =Kalugjak?"
=Napayuk smiled. It was true. There would be many hunts, and the next time he would be
successful.
"Go out now and enjoy the feast," said =Kalugjak. "You are young and strong. Never look back,
my son, always look ahead." He closed his eyes again.
=Napayuk looked at his grandfather and thought over the words he had spoken. "Never look
back." What did he mean? Was he telling =Napayuk not to brood over his disappointment at not
killing a seal? Was his grandfather merely trying to
comfort him? Or did he mean something more? =Kalugjak had also said, "Always look ahead."
=Napayuk thought over the words again and brought both ideas together-never look back, always
look ahead. And then he understood. If he looked back, he would stay in the past. He would not
grow up. If he looked ahead, he would go forward and become a man. Yes, that was what his
grandfather was telling him. It was not the killing of a seal that would turn him into a man. He
would become a man by learning to accept the hard things in lifeand still go on.
And =Napayuk knew there would be
harder things in life than disappointments. There would be fears. He looked at the sleeping old
man, and again the great fear came. This time he did not push it aside. He faced it-his grandfather
would soon die. And as he faced his great fear, he knew that he would be able to accept it and go
on.
=Napayuk touched the old man's wrinkled cheek. "I will become a man, grandfather," he
whispered. Then he went out to join the feastmakers, to join his friend =Okerluk.



would, the door would not open. She pulled, she pushed, she rattled, she jerked. Forgetting the
habits of all good animal-trainers, she turned her back on =Boxer and fiddled till her fingers were
sore. But the catch would not budge, and in the end she gave up trying.
"Well," she said, pushing the hair back from her face, "seems you and me's got to make a night of
it."
=Boxer crunched the last tin of milk between his teeth.
"There's all these bits and pieces you haven't eaten yet," said =Andalusa, pointing to =Boxer's
discarded breakfast and supper. "You might as well make a clean sweep. But if you hadn't been
so greedy, I could do with a piece of cake myself."
Was =Boxer greedy?
At six in the morning, young =Jacky, who had risen early to clean out the monkey cage, burst
into his parents' room shouting hysterically.
"Our Lu's in the bear's cage!"
"You're crackers!" said =TomPagett, waking suddenly from a sound sleep. But even as he said
"You're crackers," he was out of bed and pulling on his trousers.
"She is, I tell you!" cried =Jacky. "She's asleep and he's asleep."
=TomPagett was through the door by this time, and =Hester was out of bed and thrusting on her
dressing gown. In less than no time, everyone on the farm was assembled outside the bear's cage.
They spoke in whispers as they peered through the bars.
On his bed of straw, =Boxer lay full length in sleep. His huge forelegs were stretched out, paws
slightly curled, and long, murderous looking claws carelessly extended. And between those claws
and the bear's muzzle lay =Andalusa. She had her head on his broad chest, one arm flung across
his neck, and the straw pulled up round her pyjama-clad body. There was not a morsel of food
left in the cage, but on the floor there were the crushed remains of seven tins of condensed milk
and a broken basket.
"Oh, no!" whispered =HestePagett. "When he wakes, he'll kill her!"
"I'll try and snatch her up quick," murmured =Tom, "before he realizes. You all stand by with the
poles."
They ran for poles. They stood with the pole ends through the bars, ready to thrust back Boxer
should he wake to kill.
Every time the ball came close to the net, Sam and all the other guys would yell, "Save it! Save
it!" Of course =Janice couldn't hear. She just looked confused when they all rushed around the
net.
Sam finally called, "Time out!"
George said, "What do you mean, time out? There's no time out in this game."
Sam said, "Just give us one minute, OK.?"
"OK. One minute." George looked at his watch. "I'll time you."
Our team got together.
"They're going to cream us. Maybe you should play goal, =Melanie," said =Sam. "At least you
can keep your eye on the ball."
I shook my head. "=Janice would be lost out there with all those guys rushing around. I know
what she's doing wrong. She's watching us. She has to watch the ball instead."
"What are we going to do?" asked =Sam. "I'm going to explain to her that she
has to watch the ball and NOT the players."
"Better make sure she understands or it's game over," said =Sam.
=George shouted, "One half a minute's up. You guys hurry up."
"OK. OK.," we mumbled.
There wouldn't be time to spell out what I wanted to tell =Janice. I tapped her arm to get her
attention. Then I said slowly, "Keep your eyes," and pointed to her eyes, "on the ball," and
pointed to the ball.
She shook her head. She didn't understand.
I repeated slowly, "Keep your eyes on the ball."
She repeated my message. Then she smiled and nodded her head.
Well, those =7 points =George's team had scored were the last they'd score on us that day.
=Janice's eyes never left the ball. Not even when the whole team was crowding around, shouting,
"Save it! Save it!" As soon as that ball came close to the net, she was on top of it like a cat!
We won the game, of course.
=George couldn't believe it. "That's one super goalie!" he said pointing his thumb at =Janice.
"Of course," said Sam.
=Janice beamed. I'm sure she understood.
"Not bad for a doll player, eh?" I said to =Sam.
"I take it all back," he said.
Imagine a type of boat that was used =5000 years ago and is still used today. A boat that is so
light and flexible you can fold it up and put it in a knapsack. A boat that you slip into like a
sleeping bag and pull tight around your waist. A boat that was once made of skin and bones, but
now is made from aluminum, nylon, or fibreglass. This boat seems made for adventure. It's called
the sea kayak.
Kayaks have been used for so long that no one really knows who made the first ones. It may have
been the people of the
=Aleutian Islands between =Alaska and =Russia, or it may have been the =Inuit of =Greenland.
Many Northern peoples have used kayaks for hunting and fishing in the =Polar Seas.
A sea kayak can take a paddler many places other boats cannot go. These long, slim boats travel
in and out of the long narrow coastal inlets, or around the shores of rocky islands. Near the
islands of the =Pacific Coast the kayaker can move silently among the seals, sea otters, and grey
whales which live in these waters.
Sea kayaking first became a popular sport in =BritishColumbia. In recent years it has spread
across =Canada. Kayakers in the =GreatLakes enjoy exploring the coastlines and islands of
=GeorgianBay and Lake =Ontario. One kayaker who describes the experience says it is like
"hiking on the water."
Although the kayak is so small and light, it is very safe. Sea kayakers can take their boats out
even in rough, stormy weather because the kayak rides



Now the wild voices came together in a duet of yips, barks, and howls that lasted a full minute.
Then, silence.
We had known there were coyotes on the farm when we bought it, for we had seen their large
tracks in the soft ploughed earth at the edge of the fields. And once, in the early evening, I had
caught just a glimpse of a shadowy grey form melting into the woods as I crossed the wide
=Centre Field. But we had never heard them howl before. I wondered if they were proclaiming
their territory or calling out to find each other. Or maybe they were just feeling good! Our
neighbors call the coyotes brush wolves, for
they are first cousins to the larger timber wolves of the North. But I've always loved the name the
=Indians first gave them: God's dogs.
I lay awake in the tent and listened for a long time, hoping the coyotes would sing again. But the
concert was over.
Next morning, I scrambled out of the tent and ran across the field in the direction the howls had
come from. Sure enough, on a bare patch of ground I found fresh tracks. They showed up clearly
on the damp earth, and from the number of paw prints I knew there had been two coyotes, maybe
even three. Their tracks were neater and slightly smaller than those of a big dog, and ran almost
in a straight line beside the cedar rail fence down to the corner of the field. The coyotes must
have been hunting. In our area of southern =Ontario they live mostly on small animals, such as
rabbits and mice, and even birds if they can catch them. I followed the tracks, but lost sight of
them when they passed under the fence and turned into the woods. The coyotes had passed so
close to us! I felt a shiver of excitement.
Would they come again? Did they know we were camped in the field? Did they



Now this was a fine how-does-it-make of trouble. Here was =François all alone in the wilderness
without =Sylvain, furs, provisions, or even a dry match.
Luckily the trading post couldn't be too far away now. =François gathered dry wood and started a
fire by rubbing two sticks together. Then he stood as close to the fire as he could, to dry out his
clothes. He scorched and steamed like the uneaten rabbit back on the sharp stick in the clearing.
At last he was dry enough to brave the cold walk down the river bank. He set out slowly. The
branches scratched his hands and face. His boots sloshed and squashed through the slush of early
spring.
It was late afternoon by the time he reached the trader's village. Everyone seemed surprised to see
him alive.
"Your canoe was found caught in a log jam below here, with bear tracks on the
shore," said the trader. "We thought that a bear had carried you off."
"But the furs," cried =François. "What happened to them? Were they lost?"
"They are all safe," said the trader. "Your friend =SylvainGagnon arrived only a little while ago.
He helped me check through them."
Then a familiar face appeared in the crowd.
"=François, my good friend," cried =Sylvain. "I got a ride back with a party of Indians. But how
did you ever get the canoe through the rapids all by yourself?"
"=Sylvain, my false friend," retorted the trapper, "I was not alone. The big brown bear who
chased me in the clearing was with me."
Then =Françoiscrette shivered and shook in a way that had nothing to do with the cold spring
afternoon or his damp clothing.
So all turned out well for =François =crette in the end. But he never went on any more trapping
trips with =SylvainGagnon. You see, my friends, one who turns into a big brown bear when you
need him most is not a true friend.



Next morning, when the twins headed off for the rink with their skates and hockey sticks, =Chris
knew better than to tag along.
"Changed your mind, dear?" asked her mother.
"Of course not!" =Chris rummaged in a cupboard until she found the catcher's mask, her skates,
the cracked goal stick, and a beat-up helmet that had become too small for =Jon.
"I'll drive you to the rink," said her father, offering open support to =Chris's cause.
On the way to the rink, =Chris turned to her father. "Girls take part in all kinds of activities, so
why not hockey? There are girl jockeys who ride in horse races. Girls fly jet planes; they drive
race cars. So why can't girls play hockey? If I can play goal better than any boy in the school, I
should be allowed to play goal. They want a winning team, don't they?"
Mr =Holly sighed, agreed, then offered one small word of advice: "Just don't be too disappointed
if they don't let you try out for the team, =Chris. I know how you feel, but you can't change the
world in a day
"I don't want to change the world, =Dad. I just want to play goal because I'm
better than any other goalie they've got."
Do you agree with her parents' attitudes to her trying out?
Most of the sixth-grade boys were out on the ice when =Chris reached the rink. Half a dozen
fifth-graders had shown up. Once in a while a fifth-grader made the team but not often. Normally
these hopefuls were told to wait a year and grow up.
Mr =McGuffin, on skates and armed with a clipboard, was trying to get the players listed and
form an orderly line out of the milling mob of boys. M. =McGuffin, the =PhysEd. instructor at
=Meadowvale, was the coach.
=Chris skated over to him and joined the line-up. She caught =Don's eye, but he pretended he
didn't see her.
"You!" said =McGuffin, jabbing a finger at her. "What's your name and what position do you
play?"
"=ChrisHolly. Goal."
The coach stared at the catcher's mask. "Goalie," he said and wrote it down. "Okay, =Holly. Go
over to the bench and sit down until you're called."
=Chris skated back to the bench. But it didn't feel like skating. More like floating.



speech is too plain; it ill becomes a young man to be so unkind, so cold, so cruel in his
judgments." But as these folk were those who had tried to wheedle and flatter the King with lies,
hocus-pocus, and mumbo jumbo, no one took any notice of them.
And then King =Karol married the beautiful Princess =Sabina from a neighboring country.
And then =Karol's troubles began; for the first time that Queen =Sabina (as she was now called)
saw him put on the battered old hat before descending to the throne-room, she raised her hands in
horror and cried: "Whatever is that?"
"That?" laughed King =Karol,"why, that is my crown. And a wonderful crown it is, for it is a hat
also, and is equally suitable for palace or street."
"That!" gasped the Queen, "it's only suitable for the dustbin."
"Dustbin!" chuckled King =Karol, "why, I wouldn't exchange this crown for the wealth of
=Asia." And he hurried down to the throne-room to begin the day's work.
But the more the Queen thought about the hat, the more she disliked it. And when that afternoon
she drove out with the King through the city, she felt so ashamed, that when they returned home
she said, "Let me burn that hideous old hat!"
"No! no!" cried King =Karol hastily; "you do not know what you ask."
The Queen woke very early the next morning. She turned and looked over at King =Karol
sleeping peacefully. She thought how much she loved him, and how happy they would be if only
he would not wear that old and hideous hat.
Just then, out in the street beneath the palace windows, she heard a tinker crying his wares: "Fine
kettles, lovely saucepans, marvellous pots and pans; they never leak, they never rust, they will
last for ever and ever. Buy! buy! buy!"
A wonderful idea came into the Queen's head. She slipped softly from the warm bed, took the
King's hat down from its peg, and hurrying quietly down the stairs, opened the side door of the
palace and beckoned to the tinker.
The tinker, who was a big, red-faced man with sandy hair and whiskers, came quickly to the
door, doffed his cap, bowed low, and said (not recognizing the Queen), "Pots and pans, lady,
kettles or saucepans?"
"I'll buy three kettles," whispered the Queen, opening her gold chain reticule,

"Such tasks are not easily performed."
"Twenty-four hours!" roared the =Seigneur. "Or you hang from the hay cart before my door."
The poor bewildered baker wandered off into the forest, not having the slightest idea what to do
next. He had gone only a short distance when he met an old woman, leaning on a crooked staff.
The kind baker offered the old woman his arm, and as they walked along he told her that
tomorrow he must surely die, for he could not turn a lake into land, nor water into grass.
"Never mind," said the old woman. "Take my walking stick, and before you sleep tonight, wave
it round your head and wish for your heart's desire. In the morning all will be well."
So the baker went home and did as the old woman had told him. Before he slept that night, he
wished that the =Seigneur's lake would somehow turn into a meadow of the richest grass and
clover.
He woke the next morning to find the smell of new-mown hay wafting through his open window.
He jumped out of bed, and ran to the window. There before him stretched a beautiful green
meadow of grass, and the =Seigneur's men were already hard at work making hay.
"I am saved," cried the baker. He gladly went back to his baking, threw the old woman's stick in
the corner, and thought no more of the matter.
But the wicked lawyer was still determined to have the baker's land. The next time he met the
=Seigneur, he complimented him on his fine new meadow, then said, "Of course, that is just the
beginning of the baker's talents. Why, I have heard him say he can make a =tiens-bon-la that
would make your =Seigneury the richest in the land."



One day a very clever fox was taking a stroll in the countryside, when suddenly he saw
something falling from the sky. It looked like a very large animal, and he jumped out of the way
to avoid being hit. But when he saw the thing lying on the ground, he went over and examined it,
and found that it was not an animal at all, but a fur coat.


"An eagle must have found it," he thought, "and tried to eat it, and then dropped it from the sky
when he discovered it was nothing but a coat."
Considering himself very lucky, the fox picked up the coat and wore it to protect himself from
the cool winds, and went on his way. Soon he passed the caves of the hyenas, and the strongest
hyena saw him and asked:
"Where did you get such a fine coat, fox?"
"Well, I'm a tailor," said the fox, "and it's my job to make such garments."
"Then you must make one for me," the hyena said.
Now the fox saw a very good way to get himself free food, so he said, "All right, I'll do it. But
you must bring me seven sheep, for I need the skins."
The hyena agreed, and the next day the fox found himself with seven delicious fat sheep to eat
for the next month. And after he ate each one he threw the skin away, for of course he had no
idea how to make a coat. And every day the

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