Pride and Prejudice: Fitzwilliam Darcy

Fitzwilliam Darcy’s character analysis

                Jane Austen in the writer of the novel  “Pride and Prejudice”. The story reflects the common elements of Victorian literature, mainly frequent social gatherings, social hierarchy and scandals. It is a humorous novel about the trials of marrying well in the early eighteenth century, focusing mainly on the story of how he and Elizabeth Bennet overcome all obstacles to find romantic happiness.

                Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is the male lead and protagonist in the novel. Highly educated, with a lively wit and intelligence, Darcy proves to be an eligible partner to the bright and brilliant Elizabeth Bennet. Much of his intellect can be observed in his words rather than his behavior. The numerous verbal spars between Elizabeth and Darcy effectively reveals the sharpness and aptitude of either character.

                “There is…in every disposition, a tendency to some particular evil…not which the best education can overcome.’

                ‘Your defect is a propensity to hate everybody’

                ‘And yours is willfully to misunderstand them’ he said with a smile”

They forcefully express their opinions, suggesting the strengths of their personalities. Indeed, both characters have strong natures. Jane Austen also conveys the underlining message that both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy are sharp and quick witted,

“…for I have seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds, we are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room…”

Bringing them together would result in intense quick discussions. Elizebeth is apt enough to push Darcy into awkward positions, and he too, is fast enough to reverse the situation right back on her.

Here though, Darcy is the symbol of pride. Being the master of Pemberly Place, and the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, he was raised like a prince, “I was spoiled by my parents, who though good themselves . . . allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing . . . to think meanly of all the rest of the world”.

One could hardly blame Mr Darcy for his behavior however, as Charlotte Lucas says, “One …with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself.” Darcy, like most other people of his status, is a quite class conscious and looks down on his social inferiors at the start. When he began to fall in love with Elizabeth Bennet, he frequently reminded himself that she was of inferior birth as a way of preventing himself from getting to serious with her. 

                His arrogant ways often makes him misunderstood. The first impression he gave to the people at the ball was that of a haughty and obnoxious man. His refusal to dance with the people he considered “of lower rank” earned him the contempt of Elizabeth and the rest of the Bennets. He too, has the tendency to make hasty and harsh judgments. This prevented him from learning more about Elizabeth Bennet, the girl who he initially critisised as “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”.

                However, Mr Darcy did find himself in love with Elizabeth, and this became a source of conflict for him between head and heart. He thought that he should not love her because of her lower social position and her crass family; but his heart is attracted to her beauty, her wit, her independence and her vivacity. When he finally mustered up the courage to propose to her, he believes that she would accept him due to his wealth, nobility and status.

                It is not surprising that Elizabeth flatly turns down his first proposal, especially because his proposal is made in a haughty and condescending manner. He dwelt on how unsuitable a match they would make, rather than on her beauty and her capabilities.

                “ …the avowal of all the he felt …immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed…His sense of her inferiority-of its being a degradation-of the family…were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due consequence he was wounding.”

Elizabeth’s refusal jolted him into realizing how his behavior is perceived by other people. In doing so, he reconsiders all, and commits to go out of his way to demonstrate his respect and devotion for her. The act of writing a letter to Elizabeth is a humbling process for him. Darcy’s humbling makes him more sensitive to what others feel.

                During the course of events, Elizabeth visited Pemberly Place with the Gardiners. This serves as an opportunity for Mr Darcy to prove himself to Elizabeth, and opportunity he eagerly grasped. Elizabeth had been surprised to learn that Mr Darcy had been a wonderful and generous master to all the servants. Elizabeth reevaluated her feelings towards Mr Darcy.

                When, Mr Darcy chanced to return a day earlier than expected, and encounters Elizabeth and the Gardiners, he took the pains to warmly welcome and entertain them. He also goes out of the way to do many things to demonstrate his respect and devotion to her. Among the many honorable deeds he done for Elizabeth, he had secretly helped to save her younger sister, Lydia from disgrace at the hands of his bitter enemy, Wickham. Mr Darcy had indeed done many things for Elizabeth to get her hand in marriage.

                The second time he proposes to her, he had tempered his pride and became much more romantic. He went against the express wishes of his aunt to marry Elizabeth. In summary, Mr Darcy has become the perfect picture of the thoroughbred gentleman, and the ideal husband for Elizabeth.

               

Rising Five by Norman Nicholson

Analyze “Rising Five” in detail, with reference to the text.

                                                                “Rising Five” is written by Norman Nicholson. Nicholson had a sick childhood, and during illnesses, he would write his poems. He always wrote in relation to nature. His persistent illnesses make him appreciate life even more. In “Rising Five”, his main theme is the fact that people are always looking to the future, and seldom look at their present.

                                                                In this poem, there is a significant metaphor, the character of a little boy. Nicholson relates the young boy’s behavior and appearance to his inner desire to grow up quickly. He represents people, and their constant desire to grow, with the thought that maturity would give them better choices in life.                                                   

The poem starts off with a well heard of phrase, “I’m rising five”. This line hints on the theme of the poem. A four year old child is anxious to grow up, he never enjoys the present, but instead, wants to be five already. This phrase gives a pleasant sound to the poem. The part, ‘I’m Rising’, implies an upward, relaxed motion, with the long vowel ‘I’m’ giving the phrase an easy expansiveness. The effect Norman achieved was the idea of unlimited time and space,

The poem starts off with a child stating his age, “I’m rising five”. This first line already gives hint that people never look at the present. The boy, himself is looking forward to growing up. The phrase “little coils” of hair, with the “L” sound ath the end, gives a very happy, innocent, and light tone to the first stanza.

                                                                “Brimful of eyes to stare” this phrase gives the readers the impression of an adorable cild, and helps lighten the tone.

                                                                “Above his toffee buckled cheeks” lets us know that the boy was not out of his childhood yet, he still loves candy. Nicholson adds, that the boy had been alive for “fifty six months or perhaps a week more”, with this, he is drowning the readers with information, fifty six months sounds longer than four years, and “perhaps a week more” emphasizes the point even more.

                                                                The poet further explores this idea, this time using natural settings to represent his ideas. “Cells of spring” continues to give a light hapy tone to this stanza, and the alliterations “bubbled and doubled”, ”buds unbuttoned” together with the “shoot and stem shook creases from their frills” gives us the impression that a lot is happening at once, and we ourselves are unable to stop it. Nicholson shows the power of nature. However, he still ends the stanza in a similar theme, that e are looking forward: “season after blossoming, before the forming of the fruit, not may, but rising June”.

Here, the tone of the poem begins to drift into graver tones towards the end, with words like “blossoming” and “swilled”. It gives readers the impression that from childhood innocence, it is blossoming into more mature situations.

                                                                The fragmented sentences after the stanza, helps prepare readers for the upcoming gloomy stanza of the last paragraph, With its dramatic pauses in between each line and helps build up some tension.

                                                                “In the sky, the dust dissected tangential light” This line creates a gloomy introduction to the beginning of the end of the poem.

                                                                “Not day, but rising night, not now, but rising soon ” The repetition of the words ‘rising’ in two different situations further imposes the idea about humans looking forward. The use of the words ‘night’ and ‘soon’ brings a more serious and grave tone to the poem, and blends in perfectly with the last paragraph.

                                                                The final stanza is a culmination of the ideas Nicholson introduced at the start of the poem. He had explored representing his ideas through nature and childhood.

                                                                “The new buds…the bough” brings us to almost a new cycle starting again for the plants. Then the line is followed by: “We drop our youth behind…toffee wrappers” The use of the word toffee wrappers once again suggests childhood, and the act of “throwing away” toffee wrappers show us that the childhood is cast off, gone. This is followed by lines about nature,

“Only flower in the fruit,…rot in the fruit”, Relating nicholson’s idea of how we perceive life, using fruit as a representation. We all look at the next stage, and seldom aht the present stage of life.

                                                                He ends the poem with lines: “We look for the marriage bed…the grave in the bed”. In a way, he is telling us that the seasons can change and the cycle starts again for nature, but for the individual there is no repetition of the cycle.

“Not living, but rising dead” shows us the reality of life, that although we look forward to the future, we are continuously moving towards the end too.  

Mid Term Break by Seamus Heaney

Analyze the poem “ Mid Term Break” emphasizing how the poet has described death and grief in the poem.

                                                                “Mid term break” was written by Seamus Heaney, an Irish poet who lived together with nine siblings. Many of his works are about everyday life, a testimony to his profound observations of even the smallest things. This poem, “Mid term break”, was a reflection of his brother, Christopher’s death.

                                                                Although it is entitled “Mid Term Break”, the poem is far from cheerful. The ideas of death, trauma, grief and despair are explored here. The tone of the poem is somber and solemn. The narrator may seem a little detached as well. He does not show any outward sign that he is grieving too much over the death of his brother, but traces of his sadness could be seen in the times when he recalls memories of his brother, “the baby cooed and rocked the pram” and “lay in the four foot box as in his cot”.

                                                                Heaney delivered the poem shrouded in mystery. His introduction in the first stanza does not give the audience a clue about what would happen next. It had a relaxed, happy tone, and gives us the impression that he had all the time in the world to spare. This was shown by the act of “Counting bells knelling classes to a close”, making  the first stanza seem to last a long time.

 These words supports the previous line, “waited all morning”. Also, the allusion to “classes” and “college sick bay” suggests that the narrator was still slightly naïve and youthful at the time. When the “neighbors drove” him home, the sense of mystery begins to build up.

                                                                Upon arriving at his home, he “met his father crying”. Here, the ideas of grief, trauma and the resulting disorientation are explored. A father represents a strong pillar within the family, but here, the poet showed how much the shock of the death of a close family member could cause even the strongest pillar to collapse.

                                                                His father had “always taken funerals in his stride”, and could show that deaths were quite common, however, they had never expected it to hit so close to them. The mention of a “hard blow” had both a physical and emotional meaning in the text. It could refer to the physical impact of the accident on the poet’s brother, and it may also refer to the immense emotional trauma experienced by the family members.

                                                                Heany had also referred to his brother as a “baby”, and in line 18, it was the “first time in six weeks” he was seeing him. This suggests that the poet had only a fleeting memory of his brother, and most of his memories were concerned with him when he was a baby, “cooing and rocking the pram”. To me, I find that this part is the most tear jerking part of all, as it describes the poet having a distanced relationship with his brother that he would now never be able to repair.

                                                                As he entered the house, he was “embarrassed by old men who stood up to shake” his hand. This could be a representation of him suddenly assuming the responsibility of a mature adult. There were many other strangers who became the spectator of the funeral, and therefore the “Whispers informed strangers that (the poet) was the eldest, away at school”. This also emphasized the difference between being a spectator, and the actual family members of the victim.

                                                                The emotional blow caused his mother to “cough out angry tearless sighs”.  This could mean that the mother had cried too much until she had no tears left, and also could mean that she blamed herself for not being able to protect her child enough. Here, there is a contrast between the conventional reaction of the father and mother. The mother is angry and sad, while the father is tearful.

                                                                The narration is direct and simple, and this gives an innocent, childlike view of the situation. There is a lot of visual images in the poem, such as “snowdrops and candles soothed the bedside”. These serve to soften the harsh image and make it more peaceful. “Wearing a poppy bruise” and “no gaudy scars”, the poet’s descriptions of his brother, also show the light injuries he saw, aiding to give a quiet, peaceful atmosphere to the paragraph.

                                                                In losing his four year old brother, Heaney discovered the brutal reality of the world. It was a time of transition from adolescence to adulthood for him. The emotions of the poet are understated, therefore it gives a clear picture of the situation that day. It also reveals that the poet really misses his brother—he remembers every event of that day.

                                                                The last line was left isolated. “A four foot box, a foot for every year”.  This gives a sense of the finality of death, and shows the tragedy experienced by the entire family.

                                                                “Mid Term Break” gives a very vivid and blunt view of life, and how it can all come to an abrupt end anytime. The descriptions and the underlying meanings all make the reader feel the desolation and dismal settings of the entire scene. The saddest part is that it was based on a real life event. This poem indeed does show Seamus Heaney’s skill at observation and ability to express and manipulate reader’s feelings. 

Short Story 2: Breaking News

           The familiar yellow tint in the sky should have appeared by now, tracing the darkness with light. But oddly, the dawn remained lifelessly grey and hazily dull. A fog hovered around the area; it was as if the ground had been covered with a heavy blanket of opaque smoke. In reaction to this, I turned on the car headlights. It didn’t help much. While scanning my surroundings and glancing in the mirrors, I suddenly realized that no other cars were in the street. Am I really the only one who’s awake by this time in this town? The highway, deserted and seemingly infinite, had an ominous feel to it. I shrugged it off and led my thoughts to more important issues. Like that recently assigned work which, after its successful completion, I probably would not get credited for anyway. I sighed.

Shifting into gear, I pressed on the pedal to accelerate. The constant humming sound of the engine provided me with some sort of company. I passed by the orange tainted forest that paralleled the street. It reminded me of those pictures in National Geographic. Autumn had clearly put its mark on nature. As I was jotting down mental notes, my eyes caught a solid figure in the distance. The silhouette was positioned at the edge of the forest. I wasn’t able to make out what it was, but as I approached closer, I could perceive that it was human. I felt the hairs on my arms automatically rise and the thudding of my heart increase in rate and vehemence. Though I wrote off these notions, there was something undeniably disturbing and eerie about this scene. I dismissed the idea that this person might be in need of assistance. As I got closer, I decided to look the other way and nonchalantly pass by. Then I saw that she was signaling me to stop. This woman (a girl) did look rather helpless. I felt a pang of sympathy; it spurred me to slow down and come to a halt. Through the dew covered window, I could see her more clearly. She was rubbing her arms and stomping her feet, trying to heat herself from the chilly weather. As I rolled down the window opposite to me, she smiled, though I doubt that she could see my shadowed face. Quickly scanning her, I instantly noticed that she was very good looking, but admonished my thoughts as to not display any corrupt intentions.

                “Sir, can you please drop me off somewhere?” she asked throatily, while adding another “Please” in one breath.

                “Yeah, sure. Hop in,” I replied, to my irritation, quite eagerly.

                “Thanks,” she whispered. She opened the car door and entered in a childlike manner. After putting on her seatbelt, I resumed the journey. The girl turned to me and smiled again. “I’m sorry for bothering you but I really need to get home.” I nodded and picked up the pace.

                “Are your parents searching for you?”

                “Oh, not really,” she answered rather lightheartedly.

                Attempting to seem concentrated on the road, I let the silence temporarily pass by. I stole several glimpses of her, hoping it would not look so apparent. I had to admit; I found her attractive. She owned an exquisite doll like face and a lovely figure. I realized how pathetic I was to even think of her in this way. I didn’t even know her name. Needing to break as what I perceived as awkwardness, I decided to ask her questions, hopeful that a conversation would flow from there. A nervous laughter slipped out; I had to redeem myself.

                “So what’s your name, kid?”

                “Julie.” She looked at me meekly and in return I looked back at her. Her large, almond shaped eyes were dark and hazel, almost shadowy grey. “Yours?”

                “Aaron.” The girl nodded.

                “Well, thank you for stopping Aaron. I was beginning to think no one would come.” She heaved a disapproving sigh.

                “Yeah,” I acquiesced. “No problem. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

                “Bonne Arbor. I’ll direct you to it. We have to pass that bridge though.” Julie pointed at the distant piece of concrete.

                “Are you from around here?”

                “I’m actually a new girl in town,” she said as-a-matter-of-factly.

                “Oh.” Quickly, I conjured up more questions in my head to ask her. “How old are you?”

                “Nineteen.” There was a momentary pause. I waited. “How old are you, Aaron?”

                “Twenty six.”

                “Ah”

“So, Julie, do you mind telling me why you were in the forest in the first place? And at the breaking of day?”

                “It’s complicated, really.”

                “I’m listening”

                After a few moments of quietness, she drawly said, “Well, what started as an independent, self guided tour turned out to be a disaster.”

                “Oh.” Disappointment showed in my voice. I was expecting more. “And you couldn’t just contact 911 or something?”

                “My phone’s battery died.” That was excusable, I guess. “And I was already walking around for hours. I hoped that someone would come and rescue me. And here you are.” I smirked.

                “Well, people must be searching for you.”

                “Maybe.”

                “What prompted you to go head out for an excursion? Studies?”

                “You could say that.”

                “You in college?”

                “You ask a lot of questions, Aaron.” I suddenly felt embarrassed. Julie chuckled and continued, “It’s ok. I’m sorry, I’m just tired and have a lot of things on my mind. Besides, I’m hungry.”

                “Pardon my intrusion.”

                “No it’s ok, really. Let’s carry on with this questionnaire.”

                “There’s a pack of whole wheat cookies in the seat pocket behind you. Go devour it.”

                “Do you mind?” I shook my head. “Thank you so much.” Carefully, she reached for it, and wolfed it down to her delight. “Want some?” Again, I shook my head. After she’s satisfied, she reached out a napkin from her leather sling bag and wiped her hands. We had already passed the bridge; the big welcoming board was there to assure us that we had entered Heathstead.

                “How long were you stranded there?”

                “One night.”

                “How’d you manage to sleep?”

                “I didn’t, hence my exhaustion.”

                “Right. You can recline the car seat if you want.”

                “That’s fine.”

                “You weren’t afraid?”

                “Sure, of my mind’s own illusions.” I wasn’t sure I understood what she meant, but I let that slip by.

                “You know, it’s quite dangerous to hop inside a stranger’s car?”

                “And that stranger is you?”

                “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just saying. You should be more cautious. But I guess, seeing your circumstances, you’re an exception.”

                “You’re not dangerous, Aaron,” she sneered. “Why were you there anyway? Your car was the only one. It still is.”

                “Work related matters. Had a meeting in Porter Woods, stayed in that town the last few nights. I live here though, in Heathstead. I’m just dropping something off while having a self imposed break.”

                “Okay.” She didn’t seem a tinge bit curious about my occupation. Her indifference instead made me curious.

                “So what do you do? Or study?”

                She shrugged. She cut off the conversation by taking off her coat and untangling her heavy mass of long, ebony hair with her fingers. This time, she caught me red handed stealing glimpses of her.

                To again curve the silence, I decided to turn on the radio. I adjusted the tuner to get to the desired channel. There were buzzing, crackling noises at first, but I eventually found the right frequency. Throughout this, Julie was quiet, seeming content and relaxed, except for her agitated fingers, which were playing with the cross charm of her necklace. A series of songs by well known artists in the 60s were playing on the radio.

                “You like this? Rock and Roll?” I asked her after, more or less, half an hour. Julie nodded.

                Suddenly the music was interrupted by a clear, feminine voice. “We are sorry to interrupt you with some breaking news. Sources have reported to us that there was a recent murder in the suburbs of Heathstead. Three bodies have been found dead in the forest adjoining Heathstead and Porter Woods. The culprit is suspected to be lurking somewhere in the area, the exact whereabouts are unknown. A witness claims that the offender is a female. She is described as a young, dark haired, dark eyed woman with an oval face and a pale complexion. She was wearing a trench coat and a pair of dark denim pants, and carrying a leather sling bag. If you see anyone resembling our aforementioned description, please call 911 immediately.” As the broadcaster repeated the news, the information seeped into my mind.  

                A sudden horror grasped me. My heart palpitated; the pounding of it against my chest was unexpectedly painful. I can feel the hammering pulse behind my ears. I lost control of my hands, of my whole nervous system. I began to tremble. All this happened in a fraction of a second. I yanked my head towards Julie. No, no, no. The descriptions fit her perfectly. Those eyes, that hair, that ghostly pallor. That thin, beige blouse, those dark denims. The black trench coat was folded neatly on her lap. On top of it lies her leather sling bag, now open and revealing a gleaming knife.

Julie’s lips curled into a sinister, blood curdling smile.  “Drive on,” she instructs me.

Short Story: The Second Hand Book

The previous blog had problems, so we'd created a new one! And now I'll re-post my story!

“Honey, we are running low on cooking oil. Could you go to the provision shop for a bottle?”

That dreadful, high-pitched yell came from the kitchen. Oh how he disliked that phrase. How he wished that his wife would stop going to him for household expenses. She had a job had she not? He needed cash too! How many days had it been since his last pint of gin? Two? His daily alcohol intake was suffering a beating from the household expenses. He had to speak to his wife about it. He simply had to.

For the moment though, he had better to do her bidding, and smolder his anger for another day. He ought to build his courage. Getting up to leave for the market, the thirty-nearing-forty year old reached for his battered leather wallet.

The walk to the market was a short one. The father of four hastened to complete his errand, then came to his favorite part of such an outing. He lingered a little longer than usual in the glass front of the liquor shop. Standing like a little child before a candy store, staring dazedly and dreamily at what laid inside, the husband could see tall shelves that stretched to the ceiling, all filled to the brim with expensive wines. In his mind, he would calculate his resulting bank balance if he bought three, four, five of those bottles. Finally, he would conclude that it was all not worth it, and make a silent retreat back to reality-his life.

That day was a little different, though. For some reason, he wanted to spend. His pocket was a little heavy that day after receiving his paycheck. The nearly-middle-aged man instantly thought of one thing-a cheaper liquor shop someplace in the outskirts of the town. There, he would be able to get what he wanted without causing his bankruptcy. Why, his own wife was a descendent of a considerably noble and respectable family, fairly well to do in fact. Come the sad time when fortune was split, however, his wife had received nothing. They were sad, and the absence of the inheritance saddened them further. They watched in envy as her siblings lived with riches, while they themselves wallowed in rags. Then he recalled how badly he had treated her after that day.

Now he regretted his actions-whispers of anger directed at her, and all his attempts to antagonize her. It was not her fault, certainly not, but all his jealousy he had directed at her. Now he repented, and wanted to make it up. Suddenly, he knew where and how to spend his heavy coins. He knew of a second-hand bookshop not far from his home. He would go there and make her a present of a storybook he knew she liked immensely. He still remembered their conversation on her birthday when she spotted that book among the bits and pieces of that old shop.

                “What a lovely book!” said she.

                “We cannot afford it,” came the staunch reply.

                “But please, honey, I had such a book when I was young. I liked it so much. It was from my father’s library, but I lost it for him,” she pleaded.

                “Then you have experienced owning it before. You don’t need to own it again.” She had pouted for the rest of the day.

This time, he was going to surprise her. He would buy that book as a little gift for her, get it wrapped with colourful paper and tied up with ribbon. She would be so surprised and pleased that it was almost worth his pint of gin to see the look on her face. The husband hurried to the bookstore.

It was quite a while before he made it home; a bottle of cooking oil was carried strenuously in his left hand, and the precious present cradled gently in his right. He hid the gift until dinner time when the entire family sat down to eat together, whereupon the present made its stately appearance. He could never forget the look of joy, surprise and please that spread across her face when she took off the wrapper and saw the book (sadly a little tattered and torn) underneath. Beaming with happiness, she threw her arms around him and very nearly hugged him to death. For a minute or two, this display of expressive gratitude continued until the lady calmed down enough to resume dinner, and the children were scolded enough to cease laughing. Dinner was continued with a happier atmosphere and without further disruptions.

When the table was cleared and the children resumed their own activities, the couple sat down together at the empty table to converse. The wife toyed with the book, flipping through the pages with nostalgia washed over her face. The husband was busy telling her how he gave up his liquor money so as to obtain that gift for her. He secretly hoped that by doing so, he would rise higher in her esteem. She was, however, more concerned about her book than his story.

She thumbed the pages several times, - an action which caused a slip of paper, wedged within the pages, to dislodge. It fluttered to the ground, and the wife bent down to pick it up. She was a trifle surprised, and read it aloud:

                “My dear child, when one of you finds this book, you are in for a surprise. Here I would tell you the location of a secret treasure hoard in which I have hidden some small fortune. You know that I have been trying to instill in all of you a love for reading since you were all young. Now if you carry this habit, you would have gone through all the books in my library, and chanced upon this particular book, and the key to my hidden treasure. Congratulations to you then, lucky finder and avid reader. Now I will tell you the exact location of the little treasure I have saved just for you…”

The poor couple sat dumbstruck at their table, anxious to find an answer to the mystery. The wife was the first to speak up, “I…believe…this…is….my…fathers…own…book…from…his…library…”

They hastened the front page, and confirmation lay there. Written in the unmistakably familiar hand of the lady’s father, was the name they both recognised well. Still puzzled as to how it ended up in the bookstore, the lady suggested a possible explanation.

                “I had lost the book when I was a child. In most probability, I had dropped it in the playground where many passer-bys frequent. It must be then, that somebody found the book and decide to sell it. There was a bookshop at that time that accepted old books for a meager sum, and it is highly probable that someone had sold it there.”

                “And there it lay for so many decades, untouched. The not instide addressed to you or your siblings still remained inside” added the happy husband, “then there I went to buy it, and here it is, back in your own hands.”

The couple rejoiced in their own small cozy home. Needless to say, they did follow the instructions in the sheet, and recovered the hidden treasure. The old man was generous and gave a considerable sum. It put them through a comfortable life. Every now and then, however, the husband and the wife would stop to wonder, was there some other force at work to arrange such a coincidence to happen to them, at a time when they needed the money most? Perhaps there was.