Thursday, 8 September 2011

Mrs Packletide's Tiger By Saki

Saki, (1870-1916), whose real name was Hector Hugh Munro, was a British
writer, whose witty stories satirized the society and culture of his day. He was
considered a master of the short story.
1.It was Mrs. Packletide's pleasure and intention that she should shoot a tiger. Not that
the lust to kill had suddenly descended on her, or that she felt that she would leave India
safer and more wholesome than she had found it, with one fraction less of wild beast
per million of inhabitants. The compelling motive for
her sudden deviation towards the footsteps of
Nimrod
recently been carried eleven miles in an aeroplane
by an Algerian aviator, and talked of nothing else;
only a personally procured tiger-skin and a heavy
harvest of press photographs could successfully
counter that sort of thing. Mrs. Packletide had
already arranged in her mind the lunch she would
give at her house in Curzon Street,
Loona Bimberton's honour, with a tiger-skin rug
occupying most of the foreground and all of the

conversation. She had also already designed in her
mind the tiger-claw brooch that she was going to
give Loona Bimberton on her next birthday. In a
world that is supposed to be chiefly swayed by hunger and by love Mrs. Packletide was
an exception; her movements and motives were largely governed by dislike of Loona
Bimberton.
2. Circumstances proved
the opportunity of shooting a tiger without over-much risk or exertion, and it so
happened that a neighbouring village could boast of being the favoured
was the fact that Loona Bimberton hadostensibly inpropitious. Mrs. Packletide had offered a thousand rupees forrendezvous
of an animal of respectable antecedents, which had been driven by the increasing
infirmities of age to abandon game-killing and confine its appetite to the smaller
domestic animals. The prospect of earning the thousand rupees had stimulated the
sporting and commercial instinct of the villagers; children were posted night and day on
the outskirts of the local jungle to head the tiger back in the unlikely event of his
attempting to roam away to fresh hunting-grounds, and the cheaper kinds of goats
were left about with elaborate carelessness to keep him satisfied with his present
quarters. The one great anxiety was lest he should die of old age before the date
appointed for the memsahib's shoot. Mothers carrying their babies home through the
jungle after the day's work in the fields hushed their singing lest they might curtail the
restful sleep of the venerable herd-robber.
3. The great night duly arrived, moonlit and cloudless. A platform had been constructed in
a comfortable and conveniently placed tree, and thereon crouched Mrs. Packletide and
her paid companion, Miss Mebbin. A goat, gifted with a particularly persistent bleat,

such as even a partially deaf tiger might be reasonably expected to hear on a still night,
was
nail pack of patience cards
4. "I suppose we are in some danger?" said Miss Mebbin.
5. She was not actually nervous about the wild beast, but she had a morbid dread of
performing an atom more service than she had been paid for.
6. "Nonsense," said Mrs. Packletide; "it's a very old tiger. It couldn't spring up here even if
it wanted to."
7. "If it's an old tiger I think you
ought to get it cheaper. A
thousand rupees is a lot of
money."
8. Louisa Mebbin adopted a
protective elder-sister
attitude towards money in
general, irrespective of
nationality or denomination.
Her energetic intervention
had saved many a rouble
from dissipating itself in tips
in some Moscow hotel, and
francs and centimes clung to her instinctively under circumstances which would have
driven them headlong from less sympathetic hands. Her speculations as to the market
depreciation of tiger remnants were cut short by the appearance on the scene of the
animal itself. As soon as it caught sight of the tethered goat it lay flat on the earth,
seemingly less from a desire to take advantage of all available cover than for the
purpose of snatching a short rest before commencing the grand attack.
9. "I believe it's ill," said Louisa Mebbin, loudly in Hindustani, for the benefit of the village
headman, who was in ambush in a neighbouring tree.
10. "Hush!" said Mrs. Packletide, and at that moment the tiger commenced ambling
towards his victim.
11. "Now, now!" urged Miss Mebbin with some excitement; "if he doesn't touch the goat we
needn't pay for it." (The bait was an extra.)
12. The rifle flashed out with a loud report, and the great tawny beast sprang to one side
and then rolled over in the stillness of death. In a moment a crowd of excited natives
had swarmed on to the scene, and their shouting speedily carried the glad news to the
village, where a thumping of
tom-toms took up the chorus of
triumph. And their triumph and
rejoicing found a ready echo in
the heart of Mrs. Packletide;
already that luncheon-party in
Cur zon St reet seemed
immeasurably nearer.
13. It was Louisa Mebbin who drew
attention to the fact that the
goat was in death-throes from
a mortal bullet-wound, while no
trace of the rifle's deadly work could be found on the tiger. Evidently the wrong animal
had been hit, and the beast of prey had succumbed to heart-failure, caused by the
sudden report of the rifle, accelerated by
pardonably annoyed at the discovery; but, at any rate, she was the possessor of a dead
tiger, and the villagers, anxious for their thousand rupees, gladly connived at the fiction
that she had shot the beast. And Miss Mebbin was a paid companion. Therefore did
Mrs. Packletide face the cameras with a light heart, and her pictured fame reached
from the pages of the
the
for weeks, and her letter of thanks for the gift of a tiger-claw brooch was a model of
repressed emotions. The luncheon-party she declined; there are limits beyond which
repressed emotions become dangerous.
14. "How amused every one would be if they knew what really happened," said Louisa
Mebbin a few days after the ball.
15. "What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Packletide quickly.
16. "How you shot the goat and frightened the tiger to death," said Miss Mebbin, with her
disagreeably pleasant laugh.
17. "No one would believe it," said Mrs. Packletide, her face changing colour as rapidly as
though it were going through a
18. "Loona Bimberton would," said Miss Mebbin. Mrs. Packletide's face settled on an
unbecoming shade of greenish white.
19. "You surely wouldn't give me away?" she asked.
20. "I've seen a week-end cottage near Darking that I should rather like to buy," said Miss
Mebbin with seeming irrelevance. "Six hundred and eighty, freehold. Quite a bargain,
only I don't happen to have the money."
* * *
21. Louisa Mebbin's pretty week-end cottage, christened by her "
in summer-time with its garden borders of tiger-lilies, is the wonder and admiration of
her friends.
22. "It is a marvel how Louisa manages to do it," is the general verdict.
23. Mrs. Packletide indulges in no more big-game shooting.
24. "The incidental expenses are so heavy," she confides to inquiring friends.

About the Author

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

Two Gentlemen Of Verona By A.J Cronin


About the author

A.J. Cronin (1896-1974) was a doctor by training. He practised medicine in
Wales and in London. It was while recovering from a breakdown in health that
he wrote his first novel Hatter's Castle. It was a huge success. Cronin gave up
practising medicine and took to writing as a career. He wrote a number of
novels and short stories. Among his best-known novels are The Citadel, The
Key of the Kingdom, and The Spanish Gardener. Some of his novels have been made into successful films. The title of the story is that of one of the early
plays of Shakespeare. The story recounts the hard life chosen by two young
boys so that they could pay for the treatment of their sister afflicted with
tuberculosis. The boys' sacrifice, their sincerity and devotion to the cause and
the maturity they display in their actions gives a new hope for humanity.















1. As we drove through the foothills of the Alps two small boys stopped us on the outskirts of
worn jersey and cut-off khaki pants; thetunic gathered in loose foldsJuliet's tomb ... and other places of interest."
demeanour
was lively as a squirrel. Nicola's smile was steady and engaging. Yet in both these
boyish faces there was a seriousness which was far beyond their years.
11. In the week which followed we saw them frequently, for they proved extremely useful to
us. If we wanted a pack of American cigarettes, or seats for the opera or the name of a
good restaurant, Nicola and Jacopo could be relied upon to satisfy our needs.
12. What struck one most was their willingness to work. During these summer days, under
the hot sun, they shined shoes, sold fruit, hawked newspapers, conducted tourists
round the town, and ran errands.
13. One night, we came upon them in the windy and deserted square, resting on the stone
pavement beneath the lights.
14. Nicola sat upright, tired. A bundle of unsold newspapers lay at his feet. Jacopo, his head
resting upon his brother's shoulder was asleep. It was nearly midnight.
15. "Why are you out so late, Nicola?"
16. "Waiting for the last bus from Padua. We shall sell all our papers when it comes in."
17. "Must you work so hard? You both look rather tired."
18. "We are not complaining, sir."
19. But next morning, when I went over to the fountain to have my shoes shined, I said,
"Nicola, the way you and Jacopo work, you must earn quite a bit. You spend nothing on
clothes. You eat little enough --- when I see you have a meal it's usually black bread and
figs. Tell me, what do you do with your money?"
20. He coloured deeply under his sunburn, then grew pale. He looked to the ground.
21. "You must be saving up to emigrate to America," I suggested. He looked at me
sideways, spoke with an effort.
22. "We should greatly like to go to the States. But here, at present, we have other plans."
23. "What plans?"
24. He smiled uncomfortably. "Just plans, sir," he answered in a low voice.
25. "Well," I said, "we're leaving on Monday. Is there anything I can do for you before we
go?"
26. Nicola shook his head, but suddenly Jacopo said, "Sir," he burst out, "every Sunday we
make a visit to the country, to Poleta, 30 kilometres from here. Usually we hire bicycles.
But tomorrow, since you are so kind, you might send us in your car."
27. I had already told Luigi he might have the Sunday off. However, I answered, "I'll drive
you out myself."
28. There was a pause. Nicola was glaring at his young brother in vexation. "We could not
think of troubling you, sir."
29. "It won't be any trouble."
30. He bit his lip, then, in a rather
31. The following afternoon we drove to the tiny village set high upon the hillside. I imagined
that our destinations would be some humble dwellings. But, directed by Jacopo, we
drew up at a large red-roofed villa, surrounded by a high stone wall. I could scarcely
believe my eyes and before I could recover breath my two passengers had leaped from
the car.
32. "We shall not be long, sir. Perhaps only an hour. May be you'd like to go to the cafe in the
village for a drink?" They disappeared beyond the corner of the wall.
33. After a few minutes I followed. I found a grilled side-entrance and, determinedly, rang
the bell.
34. A pleasant-looking woman with steel-rimmed spectacles appeared. I blinked as I saw
that she was dressed in the white uniform of a trained nurse.
35. "I just brought two small boys here."
36. "Ah, yes." Her face lit up; she opened the door to admit me. "Nicola and Jacopo. I will
take you up."





37. She led me through a cool, tiled
38. The two boys were seated at the bedside of a girl of a b o u t twe n t y wh o , propped up on pillows, wearing a pretty lace jacket, was listening to their chatter, her
eyes soft and tender. One could see at a glance her resemblance to her brothers. A
vase of wild flowers stood on her table, beside a dish of fruit and several books.
39. "Won't you go in?" the nurse murmured. "Lucia will be pleased to see you."
40. I shook my head and turned away. I felt I could not bear to intrude upon this happy family
party. But at the foot of the staircase I drew up and begged her to tell me all she knew
about these boys.
41. She was eager to do so. They were, she explained, quite alone in the world, except for
this sister, Lucia. Their father, a widower, a well-known singer, had been killed in the
early part of the war. Shortly afterward a bomb had destroyed their home and thrown the
three children into the streets. They had always known a comfortable and cultured life --
- Lucia had herself been training as a singer --- and they had suffered horribly from near
starvation and exposure to the cold winter.
vestibule into the hospital --- for hospital the villa had become. At the door of a little cubicle the nurse paused, put her finger to her lips, and with a smile bade me look t h r o u g h t h e g l a s s partition.
own hands amidst the rubble. Then for three years the Germans ruled the city. The boys
grew to hate the Germans. When the resistance movement began secretly to form they
were among the first to join. When the war was over, and we had peace at last, they
came back to their beloved sister. And they found her ......suffering from tuberculosis of
the spine."
43. She paused, took a quick breath.
44. "Did they give up? I do not have to answer that question. They brought her here,
persuaded us to take her into the hospital. In the twelve months she has been our
patient she has made good progress. There is every hope that one day she will walk -
and sing - again."
45. "Of course, everything is so difficult now, food so
going unless we charged a fee. But every week, Lucia's brothers have made their
payment." She added simply, "I don't know what they do, I do not ask. Work is scarce in
Verona. But whatever it is, I know they do it well."
46. "Yes," I agreed. "They couldn't do it better."
47. I waited outside until the boys rejoined me, then drove them back to the city. They sat
beside me, not speaking. For my part, I did not say a word --- I knew they would prefer to
feel that they had safely kept their secret. Yet their devotion had touched me deeply.
War had not broken their spirit. Their selfless action brought a new nobility to human life,
gave promise of a greater hope for human society.
42. For months they had barely kept themselves alive in a sort of shelter they built with theirscarce9 and dear, we could not keep
put out tone, he said, "Very well."
. They were childish enough, and in many ways quite artless. Jacopo
2. They were selling wild strawberries. "Don't buy," warned Luigi, our cautious driver. "You will get fruit much better in Verona. Besides, these boys....."
3. He shrugged his shoulders to convey his disapproval of their shabby appearance.
4. One boy had on a
other a shortened army
about his skinny frame. Yet, gazing at the two little figures,
with their brown skins, tangled hair and dark earnest eyes,
we felt ourselves strangely attracted. My companion spoke
to the boys, discovered that they were brothers. Nicola, the
elder, was 13; Jacopo, who barely came up to the door
handle of the car, was nearly 12. We bought their biggest
basket, then set off toward town.
5. Next morning, coming out of our hotel, we saw our friends bent over shoeshine boxes
beside the fountain in the public square, doing a brisk business.
6. We watched for a few moments; then as trade slackened we went over. They greeted us
with friendly faces.
7. "I thought you picked fruit for a living," I said.
8. "We do many things, sir," Nicola answered seriously. He glanced at us hopefully. "Often
we show visitors through the town ... to
9. "All right," I smiled. "You take us along."
10. As we made the rounds, my interest was again provoked by their remarkable