Y10 – 11/03/16

Due: 17/03 (Issued: 11/03)

Task

  1. Using the handout for A Christmas Carol, complete the grid for at least 3 paragraphs.
  2. Answer the question using at least 2 AIDRWL paragraphs:
    “How has the writer structured the text to interest you as a reader?”

Musts

  1. Grid: at least 3 paragraphs covered
  2. Written answer: at least 2 AIDRWL paragraphs (of 5-8 sentences each)

Extension

Clear evidence that you have written, edited and re-written your paragraphs.

Template

Capture

Excerpt

Marley was dead: to begin with.  There is no doubt whatever about that.  The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner.  Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.  Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind!  I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail.  I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade.  But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for.  You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Scrooge knew he was dead?  Of course he did. How could it be otherwise?  Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years.  Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner.  And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.

The mention of Marley’s funeral brings me back to the point I started from.  There is no doubt that Marley was dead.  This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.  If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot — say Saint Paul’s Churchyard for instance — literally to astonish his son’s weak mind.

Scrooge never painted out Old Marley’s name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley.  The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley.  Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.

Oh!  But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!  Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.  The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.  A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin.  He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge.  No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.  No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty.  Foul weather didn’t know where to have him.  The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect.  They often “came down” handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

Polish

Marley był martwy: na początku. Nie ma wątpliwości, co o tym. Rejestr jego pochówku zostało podpisane przez duchownego, urzędnik, grabarza, a główny żałobnika. Scrooge podpisał go: i nazwa Scrooge był dobry na “Change, do niczego wybrał położyć rękę. Stary Marley był martwy jak drzwi-paznokcia.

Umysł! Nie chcę powiedzieć, że wiem, z własnej wiedzy, co nie jest szczególnie żyje około door-paznokcia. I może być skłonny, siebie, aby traktować trumny gwóźdź jako deadest kawałka wyrobów metalowych w handlu. Ale mądrość naszych przodków jest w przypowieści; i moi unhallowed ręce nie będą przeszkadzać, lub kraju zrobić dla. Będziesz więc pozwolić mi powtórzyć, dobitnie, że Marley był martwy jak drzwi-paznokcia.

Scrooge wiedział, że nie żyje? Oczywiście, że tak. Jak mogłoby być inaczej? Scrooge i on byli partnerzy bo nie wiem ile lat. Scrooge był jego jedynym realizatorem jego jedynym administratorem, a jego jedynym przypisać jego jedynym residuary zapisobiercy, jego jedynym przyjacielem i jedynym żałobie. I nawet Scrooge nie było tak strasznie pocięta przez smutne wydarzenie, ale to był doskonały człowiek biznesu w tym samym dniu pogrzebu i solemnized go z niewątpliwej okazja.

Wzmianka o pogrzebie Marleya sprowadza mnie z powrotem do punktu I uruchomiony. Nie ma wątpliwości, że Marley nie żyje. To musi być wyraźnie rozumieć, albo nic dziwnego mogą pochodzić z tej historii zamierzam odnosić. Gdybyśmy nie byli całkowicie przekonani, że ojciec Hamleta zmarł przed rozpoczęciem gry, nie byłoby nic bardziej niezwykłe w swej biorąc spacer w nocy, w kierunku wschodnim wietrze, na swoich murów obronnych, niż byłoby w jakikolwiek inny średnim wieku dżentelmena pochopnie obracając się po zmroku w przewiewnym miejscu – mówi święty Paweł w cmentarzyk na przykład – dosłownie zadziwiać syna słaby umysł.

Scrooge nigdy nie malowane na starej nazwy Marleya. Tam stał, rok później, nad drzwiami magazynu: Scrooge i Marley. Firma znana była jako Scrooge i Marley. Czasami ludzie nowy w branży nazywa Scrooge Scrooge, a czasem Marley, ale on odpowiedział na obie nazwy: to wszystko było takie samo dla niego.

O! Ale on był skąpy rękę na szlif kamienia, Scrooge! ściskająca, bolesnym, chwytając, zgarniania, ściskając, chciwi, stary grzesznik! Twarde i ostre jak krzemień, z którego nie ma stali kiedykolwiek uderzył obfite pożar; tajne i samowystarczalny i samotny jak ostryga. Zimno w nim zamroził swoje dawne funkcje, postrzępione jego spiczasty nos, pomarszczone policzek, usztywnione jego chód; wykonany oczy czerwony, jego wąskie wargi niebieski i wypowiadał się przenikliwie w jego głosie kraty. Mroźny rym był na głowie, a na jego brwi i jego spiczaste brody. Niósł swoją niską temperaturę zawsze się z nim; On mrożona swoje biuro w dogdays; i nie rozmrozić go o jeden stopień na Boże Narodzenie.

ciepła i zimna zewnętrzna miały niewielki wpływ na Scrooge. Nie mógł ogrzać ciepłem, brak zimowej aury schłodzić go. Nie wiatr, który wiał był bitterer niż on nie padający śnieg był bardziej pochłonięty jego przeznaczeniem, bez opadów na futro jest mniej otwarty na prośby. Niepogoda nie wiedział, gdzie go mieć. Najcięższe deszcz i śnieg, i grad, a deszcz ze śniegiem, może pochwalić przewagę nad nim tylko w jednym zakresie. Często “zszedł” sowicie i Scrooge nigdy nie zrobił.

Portuguese

Marley estava morto: para começar. Não há dúvida alguma sobre isso. O registro de seu sepultamento foi assinado pelo clérigo, o funcionário, o agente funerário, eo chefe enlutado. Scrooge assinado E o nome de Scrooge era bom em cima ‘Change, para qualquer coisa que ele escolheu para colocar a mão. Old Marley estava tão morto como uma porta-prego.

Mente! Eu não quero dizer que eu sei, do meu próprio conhecimento, o que não é particularmente morto sobre um porta-prego. Eu poderia ter sido inclinado, eu mesmo, a considerar um caixão-prego como a peça mais morto de ferragens no comércio. Mas a sabedoria dos nossos antepassados ​​está no simile; e minhas mãos profanas não deve perturbá-lo, ou o País tem feito por. Será, portanto, permita-me repetir, de forma enfática, que Marley estava tão morto como uma porta-prego.

Scrooge sabia que ele estava morto? Claro que ele fez. Como poderia ser de outra forma? Scrooge e ele eram parceiros para que eu não sei quantos anos. Scrooge era seu único executor, o seu único administrador, seu único assign, o único legatário residuárias, seu único amigo e único enlutado. E mesmo Scrooge não foi tão terrivelmente cortado pelo evento triste, mas que ele era um excelente homem de negócios no próprio dia do funeral, e celebrado com um negócio indubitável.

A menção do funeral de Marley me traz de volta ao ponto que eu comecei. Não há dúvida de que Marley estava morto. Isso deve ser bem entendido, ou nada maravilhoso pode vir da história que eu vou contar. Se não estivéssemos perfeitamente convencido de que o pai de Hamlet morreu antes do jogo começou, não haveria nada mais notável em seu dar um passeio à noite, em um vento de leste, em suas próprias muralhas, do que haveria em qualquer outro senhor de meia-idade precipitadamente despejando após o anoitecer em um local arejado – dizem Churchyard de São Paulo, por exemplo – literalmente surpreender mente fraca de seu filho.

Scrooge nunca pintou o nome de Old Marley. Não estava, anos depois, por cima da porta de armazém: Scrooge e Marley. A empresa era conhecida como Scrooge e Marley. Às vezes as pessoas novas para o negócio chamado Scrooge Scrooge, e às vezes Marley, mas ele respondeu a ambos os nomes: era tudo a mesma coisa para ele.

Oh! Mas ele era uma mão tacanha a pedra grind-, Scrooge! a apertar, arrancando, segurando, raspagem, segurando, avarentos, velho pecador! Dura e afiada como sílex, da qual nenhum de aço já tinha atingido a generosa fogo; secreto, e auto-suficiente, e solitário como uma ostra. O frio dentro dele congelou suas características antigas, beliscou o nariz pontiagudo, enrugado sua bochecha, endureceu a sua marcha; feita com os olhos vermelhos, os lábios finos azul e falou com perspicácia em sua voz áspera. A rime gelado estava em sua cabeça, e sobre as sobrancelhas, e seu queixo rijo. Ele carregava sua própria temperatura baixa sempre sobre com ele; ele congelou seu escritório nos dogdays; e não descongelá-lo um grau no Natal.

externa de calor e frio tiveram pouca influência sobre Scrooge. No calor pode aquecer, sem clima de inverno relaxar ele. Nenhum vento que soprava era mais amargo do que ele, não há neve caindo estava mais preocupado em seu propósito, não chuva forte menos aberto ao entreaty. o mau tempo não sabia onde para tê-lo. A chuva mais pesada, e neve e granizo, e granizo, podia gabar-se da vantagem sobre ele em apenas um aspecto. Eles muitas vezes “desceu” generosamente, e Scrooge nunca o fez.

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