http://learningenglish.voanews.com/archive/learningenglish-programs-radio-american-stories/latest/1581/1581.html Learn English as you read and listen to a weekly show with short stories by famous American authors. Adaptations are written at the intermediate and upper-beginner level and are read one-third slower than regular VOA English. http://www.voanews.com/img/voa/rssLogo_VOA.gif http://learningenglish.voanews.com/archive/learningenglish-programs-radio-american-stories/latest/1581/1581.html en 2012 - VOA 60 Mon, 26 Sep 2016 23:12:05 +0000 Pangea CMS – VOA From VOA Learning English, this is American Stories! Our story is called "The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky." It was written by Stephen Crane. We will listen to the story in two parts. Today we will hear the first part of the story.  "The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky" The great train was rushing forward such steady dignity of motion that a glance from the window seemed simply to prove that the flatlands of Texas were pouring toward the east. A newly married pair had come on this train at San Antonio. The man’s face was reddened from many days in the wind and sun. His roughened hands were continually moving over his new black clothes in a most nervous manner. From time to time he looked down respectfully at his suit. He sat with a hand on each knee, like a man waiting in a shop for a haircut. The glances he gave to other passengers were few and quick. The bride was not pretty, nor was she very young. She wore a dress of blue with many buttons. She continually turned her head to regard some part or other of her dress. It made her feel strange. One could tell that she had cooked and that she expected to cook, dutifully. The searching glances of some of the passengers as she had entered the car had brought the blood rushing to her face. Her uncomfortable expression was strange to see upon this plain face, which was usually calm and almost emotionless. They were evidently very happy. “Ever been in a train like this before?” he asked, smiling with delight. “No,” she answered, “I never was. It’s fine, isn’t it?” “Great! After a while we’ll go forward to the dining car and get a big dinner. Finest meal in the world. Costs a dollar.” “Oh, it does?” cried the bride. “A dollar? Oh, that’s too much for us, isn’t it, Jack?” “Not on this trip, at least,” he answered bravely. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves.” Later he explained to her about the trains. “You see, it’s a thousand miles from one end of Texas to the other. The train runs straight across it, and only stops four times.” He had the pride of an owner. He pointed out to her the beauty of the car they were riding in. And in truth her eyes opened wider as she observed the rich, sea-green cloth covering the seats, the shining silver and glass, the wood that shone darkly like the surface of a pool of oil. To the minds of the pair, their surroundings repeated the glory of their wedding that morning in San Antonio. This was the spirit of their new life, and the man’s face in particular shone with a joy that made him appear foolish to certain passengers. In the minds of some, there was supposed to be something hugely funny in the pair’s situation. “We are due in Yellow Sky at 3:42,” he said, looking tenderly into her eyes. “Oh, are we?” she said, as if she had not been aware of it. To show surprise at her husband’s remark was part of her wifely duty. She took from a pocket a little silver watch. As she held it before her, and stared at it with a look of attention, the new husband’s face shone. “I bought it in San Antonio from a friend of mine,” he told her proudly. “It’s 17 minutes past 12,” she said, looking up at him with a happy expression which, nevertheless, showed a lack of experience in conversing with men. A passenger, observing her small nervousness, laughed to himself. At last they went to the dining car. The man serving their table happened to take pleasure in directing them through their meal. He viewed them with the manner of a fatherly guide, his face shining with kindness. But they did not understand his attentions. As they returned to their seats, they showed in their faces a sense of escape. It was evident that, as the distance from Yellow Sky grew shorter, the husband became more nervous. His red hands were even more noticeable. He was rather absent-minded and faraway when the bride leaned forward and spoke to him. As a matter of truth, Jack Potter was beginning to find his deed weighing upon him like a great stone. He, the town policeman of Yellow Sky, was a man known, liked, and feared in his community. He, an important person, had gone to San Antonio to meet a girl he believed he loved. And there he had actually married her without discussing any part of the matter with Yellow Sky. He was now bringing his bride to a sure-to-be-surprised town. Of course, people in Yellow Sky married as it pleased them. But Potter’s thoughts of his duty to his friends, or of their idea of his duty, made him feel he was sinful. He was guilty of a great and unusual crime. Face to face with this girl in San Antonio, he had leaped over all the social fences. At San Antonio he was like a man hidden in the dark. A knife to cut any friendly duty was easy to take in his hand in that distant city. But the hour of Yellow Sky, the hour of daylight, was approaching. He knew very well that his wedding was an important thing to the town. It could only be equaled by the burning of the new hotel. His friends could not forgive him, he felt. And now the train was hurrying him toward a scene of surprise, merriment, and blame. He glanced out of the window again. Yellow Sky had a kind of band, which played its horns and drums painfully, to the delight of the people. He laughed without heart as he thought of it. If the citizens could dream of his arrival with his bride, they would march the band at the station and accompany them, among cheers and laughter, to his house. He decided that he would use all methods of speed and cleverness in making the journey from the station to his house. Once safely at home, he would announce the news. Then he would not go among the citizens until they’d had time to master their emotions. The bride looked anxiously at him. “What’s worrying you, Jack?” He laughed. “I’m not worrying, girl. I’m only thinking of Yellow Sky.” She understood, and her face turned red again. They shared a sense of slight guilt that developed a finer tenderness. They looked at each other with eyes softly glowing. But Potter often laughed the same nervous laugh. The deep red color upon the bride’s face did not lessen. “We’re nearly there,” he said. As the train began to slow, they moved forward in the car. The long line of cars moved into the station of Yellow Sky. “The train has to get water here,” said Potter, from a tight throat and face, as one announcing death. Before the train stopped, his eye had searched the station, and he was glad and surprised to see there was no one there except the station master. “Come on, girl,” said Potter with a thick voice. As he helped her down, they each laughed in a strained manner. He took her bag and told his wife to hold his arm. As they hurried away he saw that the station master had turned and was running toward them, waving his arms. Potter laughed, and sighed as he laughed, when he realized the first effect of his wedding upon Yellow Sky. He grasped his wife’s arm firmly to his side and they hurried away. The California train was due at Yellow Sky in 21 minutes. There were six men in the Weary Gentleman Saloon. One was a salesman who talked a great deal and rapidly; three were Texans who did not care to talk at that time; and two were Mexican sheep farmers who did not usually talk in the saloon. The saloon-keeper’s dog lay in front of the door. His head was resting on his feet, and he glanced sleepily here and there with the ready watchfulness of a dog that is sometimes kicked. Across the sandy street were some bright green, grass spots, so wonderful in appearance next to burning sands in the hot sun. At the cooler side of the railroad station, a man without a coat sat in a chair leaned back against the building. He smoked his pipe. The waters of the Rio Grande river circled near the town, and beyond it could be seen great flatlands. Except for the busy salesman and his companions in the saloon, Yellow Sky was sleeping. The salesman leaned easily upon a table and told many tales with the confidence of a story teller who has found new listeners. He was interrupted by a young man who suddenly appeared in the open door. He cried, “Scratchy Wilson’s drunk, and has started to make trouble.” The two Mexicans at once put down their glasses and disappeared through the rear door of the saloon. The salesman, not understanding the importance of the warning, jokingly answered, “All right, old man. Suppose he has? Come in and have a drink anyhow.” But the information had made such an apparent impression upon everyone in the room that the salesman was forced to see its importance. All had become instantly serious. “Well,” he said, filled with mystery, “what is this?” His three companions started to tell him, but the young man at the door stopped them.” “It means, my friend,” he answered as he came into the saloon, “that for the next two hours this town won’t be very healthy.” The saloon-keeper went to the door and locked it. Reaching out of the window, he pulled in heavy wooden boards, which covered the windows and locked there. The salesman was looking from one to another. “What is this, anyhow?” he cried. “You don’t mean there is going to be a gun-fight?” Come back to American Stories next week for the second half of "The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky" by Stephen Crane.   Now it's your turn to use the words in this story. Do you enjoy movies about cowboys? Can you imagine a town like Yellow Sky? How do you think the people in Yellow Sky feel about Jack Potter? Write to us in the Comments Section or on our Facebook page. Teachers, view the lesson plan here.  Try the listening quiz to see how well you understand Part One of the story.  ​ ________________________________________________________________ Words in This Story   aware - adj. knowing that something (such as a situation, condition, or problem) exists bride - n. a woman who has just married or is about to be married dignity - n. the quality of being worthy of honor or respect grasp - v. to take and hold (something) with your fingers, hands, etc. merriment - n. laughter and enjoyment saloon - n. a business where alcoholic drinks are served http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/3515882.html http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/3515882.html Fri, 23 Sep 2016 21:05:38 +0000 American StoriesFeatured Storieshttp://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/3515882.html#relatedInfoContainer http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/bride-comes-to-yellow-sky-part-one/3520970.html http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/bride-comes-to-yellow-sky-part-one/3520970.html Fri, 23 Sep 2016 18:06:00 +0000 American Storieshttp://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/bride-comes-to-yellow-sky-part-one/3520970.html#relatedInfoContainer Our story is called "A Pair of Silk Stockings." It was written by Kate Chopin. Here is Barbara Klein with the story. Little Missus Sommers one day found herself the unexpected owner of fifteen dollars. It seemed to her a very large amount of money. The way it filled up her worn money holder gave her a feeling of importance that she had not enjoyed for years. The question of investment was one she considered carefully. For a day or two she walked around in a dreamy state as she thought about her choices. She did not wish to act quickly and do anything she might regret. During the quiet hours of the night she lay awake considering ideas. A dollar or two could be added to the price she usually paid for her daughter Janie's shoes.  This would guarantee they would last a great deal longer than usual. She would buy cloth for new shirts for the boys.  Her daughter Mag should have another dress. And still there would be enough left for new stockings — two pairs per child. What time that would save her in always repairing old stockings! The idea of her little family looking fresh and new for once in their lives made her restless with excitement. The neighbors sometimes talked of the "better days" that little Missus Sommers had known before she had ever thought of being Missus Sommers. She herself never looked back to her younger days. She had no time to think about the past. The needs of the present took all her energy. Missus Sommers knew the value of finding things for sale at reduced prices. She could stand for hours making her way little by little toward the desired object that was selling below cost. She could push her way if need be. But that day she was tired and a little bit weak. She had eaten a light meal—no! She thought about her day. Between getting the children fed and the house cleaned, and preparing herself to go shopping, she had forgotten to eat at all! When she arrived at the large department store, she sat in front of an empty counter. She was trying to gather strength and courage to push through a mass of busy shoppers. She rested her hand upon the counter. She wore no gloves. She slowly grew aware that her hand had felt something very pleasant to touch. She looked down to see that her hand lay upon a pile of silk stockings. A sign nearby announced that they had been reduced in price. A young girl who stood behind the counter asked her if she wished to examine the silky leg coverings. She smiled as if she had been asked to inspect diamond jewelry with the aim of purchasing it. But she went on feeling the soft, costly items. Now she used both hands, holding the stockings up to see the light shine through them. Two red marks suddenly showed on her pale face. She looked up at the shop girl. "Do you think there are any size eights-and-a-half among these?" There were a great number of stockings in her size. Missus Sommers chose a black pair and looked at them closely. "A dollar and ninety-eight cents," she said aloud. "Well, I will buy this pair." She handed the girl a five dollar bill and waited for her change and the wrapped box with the stockings. What a very small box it was! It seemed lost in her worn old shopping bag. Missus Sommers then took the elevator which carried her to an upper floor into the ladies' rest area.  In an empty corner, she replaced her cotton stockings for the new silk ones. For the first time she seemed to be taking a rest from the tiring act of thought. She had let herself be controlled by some machine-like force that directed her actions and freed her of responsibility. How good was the touch of the silk on her skin! She felt like lying back in the soft chair and enjoying the richness of it. She did for a little while. Then she put her shoes back on and put her old stockings into her bag. Next, she went to the shoe department, sat down and waited to be fitted. The young shoe salesman was unable to guess about her background. He could not resolve her worn, old shoes with her beautiful, new stockings. She tried on a pair of new boots. She held back her skirts and turned her feet one way and her head another way as she looked down at the shiny, pointed boots. Her foot and ankle looked very lovely. She could not believe that they were a part of herself. She told the young salesman that she wanted an excellent and stylish fit. She said she did not mind paying extra as long as she got what she desired. After buying the new boots, she went to the glove department.  It was a long time since Missus Sommers had been fitted with gloves. When she had bought a pair they were always "bargains," so cheap that it would have been unreasonable to have expected them to be fitted to her hand. Now she rested her arm on the counter where gloves were for sale. A young shop girl drew a soft, leather glove over Missus Sommers's hand. She smoothed it down over the wrist and buttoned it neatly.  Both women lost themselves for a second or two as they quietly praised the little gloved hand. There were other places where money might be spent. A store down the street sold books and magazines. Missus Sommers bought two costly magazines that she used to read back when she had been able to enjoy other pleasant things. She lifted her skirts as she crossed the street. Her new stockings and boots and gloves had worked wonders for her appearance. They had given her a feeling of satisfaction, a sense of belonging to the well-dressed crowds. She was very hungry. Another time she would have ignored the desire for food until reaching her own home. But the force that was guiding her would not permit her to act on such a thought. There was a restaurant at the corner. She had never entered its doors.  She had sometimes looked through the windows. She had noted the white table cloths, shining glasses and waiters serving wealthy people. When she entered, her appearance created no surprise or concern, as she had half feared it might. She seated herself at a small table. A waiter came at once to take her order. She ordered six oysters, a chop, something sweet, a glass of wine and a cup of coffee.  While waiting to be served she removed her gloves very slowly and set them beside her. Then she picked up her magazine and looked through it. It was all very agreeable. The table cloths were even more clean and white than they had seemed through the window. And the crystal drinking glasses shined even more brightly. There were ladies and gentlemen, who did not notice her, lunching at the small tables like her own. A pleasing piece of music could be heard, and a gentle wind was blowing through the window. She tasted a bite, and she read a word or two and she slowly drank the wine. She moved her toes around in the silk stockings. The price of it all made no difference. When she was finished, she counted the money out to the waiter and left an extra coin on his tray. He bowed to her as if she were a princess of royal blood. There was still money in her purse, and her next gift to herself presented itself as a theater advertisement. When she entered the theater, the play had already begun.  She sat between richly dressed women who were there to spend the day eating sweets and showing off their costly clothing. There were many others who were there only to watch the play. It is safe to say there was no one there who had the same respect that Missus Sommers did for her surroundings. She gathered in everything —stage and players and people -- in one wide sensation. She laughed and cried at the play. She even talked a little with the women. One woman wiped her eyes with a small square of lace and passed Missus Sommers her box of candy. The play was over, the music stopped, the crowd flowed outside. It was like a dream ended. Missus Sommers went to wait for the cable car. A man with sharp eyes sat opposite her.  It was hard for him to fully understand what he saw in her expression. In truth, he saw nothing -- unless he was a magician. Then he would sense her heartbreaking wish that the cable car would never stop anywhere, but go on and on with her forever. "A Pair of Silk Stockings" was written by Kate Chopin.  Your storyteller was Barbara Klein.  Dana Demange adapted and produced it. Download activities to help you understand this story here. Now it's your turn to use the words in this story. If you were given a large amount of money, how would you spend it? Write to us in the Comments Section or on our Facebook page. __________________________________________________________ Words in This Story investment - n. something that you buy with the idea that it will increase in value, usefulness, etc. ankle- n. the joint where the foot joins the leg stylish- adj.  following the popular style; fashionable oyster- n. a type of shellfish that has a rough shell with two parts and that is eaten both cooked and raw chop- n.  a small piece of meat that usually includes a bone from an animal's side sensation- n.  a particular feeling or effect that your body experiences lace- n. a very thin and light cloth made with patterns of holes ​ http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/a-pair-of-silk-stockings-kate-chopin/3503672.html http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/a-pair-of-silk-stockings-kate-chopin/3503672.html Fri, 16 Sep 2016 21:07:32 +0000 American StoriesFeatured Storieshttp://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/a-pair-of-silk-stockings-kate-chopin/3503672.html#relatedInfoContainer Our story is called "The Diamond Lens. " It was written by Fitz-James O'Brien. Today we will hear the second and final part of the story. Here is Maurice Joyce with part two of "The Diamond Lens." When I was a child, someone gave me a microscope. I spent hours looking through that microscope, exploring Nature's tiny secrets. As I grew up, I became more interested in my microscope than in people. When I was twenty years old, my parents sent me to New York City to study medicine. I never went to any of my classes. Instead, I spent all my time, and a lot of my money, trying to build the perfect microscope. I wanted to make a powerful lens that would let me see even the smallest parts of life. But all my experiments failed. Then one day, I met a young man, who lived in the apartment above mine. Jules Simon told me about a woman who could speak to the dead. When I visited Madame Vulpes, she let me speak to the spirit of the man who invented the microscope. The spirit of Anton Leeuwenhoek told me how to make a perfect lens from a diamond of one hundred forty carats. But where could I find a diamond that big? When I returned home, I went to Simon's apartment. He was surprised to see me and tried to hide a small object in his pocket. I wanted to discover what it was, so I brought two bottles of wine to his apartment. We began to drink. By the time we had finished the first bottle, Simon was very drunk. "Simon, I know you have a secret. Why don't you tell me about it?" Something in my voice must have made him feel safe. He made me promise to keep his secret. Then he took a small box from his pocket. When he opened it, I saw a large diamond shaped like a rose. A pure white light seemed to come from deep inside the diamond. Simon told me he had stolen the diamond from a man in South America. He said it weighed exactly one hundred forty carats. Excitement shook my body. I could not believe my luck. On the same evening that the spirit of Leeuwenhoek tells me the secret of the perfect lens, I find the diamond I need to create it. I decided to steal Simon's treasure. I sat across the table from him as he drank another glass of wine. I knew I could not simply steal the diamond. Simon would call the police. There was only one way to get the diamond. I had to kill Simon. Everything I needed to murder Simon was right there in his apartment. A bottle full of sleeping powder was on a table near his bed. A long thin knife lay on the table. Simon was so busy looking at his diamond that I was able to put the drug in his glass quite easily. He fell asleep in fifteen minutes. I put his diamond in my pocket and carried Simon to the bed. I wanted to make the police think Simon had killed himself. I picked up Simon's long thin knife and stared down at him. I tried to imagine exactly how the knife would enter Simon's heart if he were holding the knife himself. I pushed the knife deep into his heart. I heard a sound come from his throat, like the bursting of a large bubble. His body moved and his right hand grabbed the handle of the knife. He must have died immediately. I washed our glasses and took the two wine bottles away with me. I left the lights on, closed the door and went back to my apartment. Simon's death was not discovered until three o'clock the next day. One of the neighbors knocked at his door and when there was no answer, she called the police. They discovered Simon's body on the bed. The police questioned everyone. But they did not learn the truth. The police finally decided Jules Simon had killed himself, and soon everyone forgot about him. I had committed the perfect crime. For three months after Simon's death, I worked day and night on my diamond lens. At last the lens was done. My hands shook as I put a drop of water on a piece of glass. Carefully, I added some oil to the water to prevent it from drying. I turned on a strong light under the glass and looked through the diamond lens. For a moment, I saw nothing in that drop of water. And then I saw a pure white light. Carefully, I moved the lens of my microscope closer to the drop of water. Slowly, the white light began to change. It began to form shapes. I could see clouds and wonderful trees and flowers. These plants were the most unusual colors: bright reds, greens, purples, as well as silver and gold. The branches of these trees moved slowly in a soft wind. Everywhere I looked, I could see fruits and flowers of a thousand different colors. "How strange," I thought, "that this beautiful place has no animal life in it." Then, I saw something moving slowly among the brightly-colored trees and bushes. The branches of a purple and silver bush were gently pushed aside. And, there, before my eye, stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! She was perfect: pink skin, large blue eyes and long golden hair that fell over her shoulders to her knees. She stepped away from the rainbow-colored trees. Like a flower floating on water, she drifted through the air. Watching her move was like listening to the sound of tiny bells ringing in the wind. She went to the rainbow-colored trees and looked up at one of them. The tree moved one of its branches that was full of fruit. It lowered the branch to her, and she took one of the fruits. She turned it in her tiny hands and began to eat. How I wished I had the power to enter that bright light and float with her through those beautiful forests. Suddenly, I realized I had fallen in love with this tiny creature! I loved someone who would never love me back. Someone who is a prisoner in a drop of water. I ran out of the room, threw myself on my bed and cried until I fell asleep. Day after day, I returned to my microscope to watch her. I never left my apartment. I rarely even ate or slept. One day, as usual, I went to my microscope, ready to watch my love. She was there, but a terrible change had taken place. Her face had become thin, and she could hardly walk. The wonderful light in her golden hair and blue eyes was gone. At that moment, I would have given my soul to become as small as she and enter her world to help her. What was causing her to be so sick? She seemed in great pain. I watched her for hours, helpless and alone with my breaking heart. She grew weaker and weaker. The forest also was changing. The trees were losing their wonderful colors. Suddenly, I realized I had not looked at the drop of water for several days. I had looked into it with the microscope, but not at it. As soon as I looked at the glass under the microscope, I understood the horrible truth. I had forgotten to add more oil to the drop of water to stop it from drying. The drop of water had disappeared. I rushed again to look through the lens. The rainbow forests were all gone. My love lay in a spot of weak light. Her pink body was dried and wrinkled. Her eyes were black as dust. Slowly she disappeared forever. I fainted and woke many hours later on pieces of my microscope. I had fallen on it when I fainted. My mind was as broken as the diamond lens. I crawled to my bed and withdrew from the world. I finally got better, months later. But all my money was gone. People now say I am crazy. They call me "Linley, the mad scientist." No one believes I spoke to the spirit of Leeuwenhoek. They laugh when I tell them how I killed Jules Simon and stole his diamond to make the perfect lens. They think I never saw that beautiful world in a drop of water. But I know the truth of the diamond lens. And now, so do you.   You have just heard "The Diamond Lens" by Fitz-James O'Brien. It was adapted by Dona de Sanctis. Your storyteller was Maurice Joyce. Download activities to help you understand this story here. Now it's your turn to use the words in this story. Have you ever work on something so much that it harmed other parts of your life? What are you more interested in than anything else in the world? Write to us in the Comments Section or on our Facebook page. ________________________________________________________________ Words in This Story Anton Leeuwenhoek  - a Dutch tradesman and scientist, best known for his work on the development and improvement of the microscope and also for his contribution towards the study of microbiology carat -  n. a unit for measuring the weight of jewels (such as diamonds) that is equal to 200 milligrams drunk - adj. having drunk so much alcohol that normal actions (such as talking, thinking, and moving) become difficult to do commit - v. to do (something that is illegal or harmful) drop - n. a very small amount of liquid that falls in a rounded shape​ wrinkle - n. a small line or fold that appears on your skin as you grow older — usually plural Now it's your turn. What do you think the lesson of this story is? What would you tell the narrator? http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/the-diamond-lens-part-two-fitz-james-o-brien/3497281.html http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/the-diamond-lens-part-two-fitz-james-o-brien/3497281.html Fri, 09 Sep 2016 19:00:07 +0000 American StoriesFeatured Storieshttp://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/the-diamond-lens-part-two-fitz-james-o-brien/3497281.html#relatedInfoContainer Our story today is called "The Diamond Lens. " It was written by Fitz-James O'Brien. We will tell the story in two parts.  Now, here is Maurice Joyce with part one of "The Diamond Lens." When I was ten years old, one of my older cousins gave me a microscope. The first time I looked through its magic lens, the clouds that surrounded my daily life rolled away. I saw a universe of tiny living creatures in a drop of water. Day after day, night after night, I studied life under my microscope. The fungus that spoiled my mother’s jam was, for me, a land of magic gardens. I would put one of those spots of green mold under my microscope and see beautiful forests, where strange silver and golden fruit hung from the branches of tiny trees. I felt as if I had discovered another Garden of Eden. Although I didn’t tell anyone about my secret world, I decided to spend my life studying the microscope. My parents had other plans for me. When I was nearly twenty years old, they insisted that I learn a profession even though we were a rich family, and I really didn’t have to work at all. I decided to study medicine in New York. This city was far away from my family, so I could spend my time as I pleased. As long as I paid my medical school fees every year, my family would never know I wasn’t attending any classes. In New York, I would be able to buy excellent microscopes and meet scientists from all over the world. I would have plenty of money and plenty of time to spend on my dream. I left home with high hopes. Two days after I arrived in New York, I found a place to live.  It was large enough for me to use one of the rooms as my laboratory. I filled this room with expensive scientific equipment that I did not know how to use. But by the end of my first year in the city, I had become an expert with the microscope. I also had become more and more unhappy. The lens in my expensive microscope was still not strong enough to answer my questions about life. I imagined there were still secrets in Nature that the limited power of my equipment prevented me from knowing. I lay awake nights, wishing to find the perfect lens – an instrument of great magnifying power. Such a lens would permit me to see life in the smallest parts of its development. I was sure that a powerful lens like that could be built. And I spent my second year in New York trying to create it. I experimented with every kind of material. I tried simple glass, crystal and even precious stones. But I always found myself back where I started. My parents were angry at the lack of progress in my medical studies. I had not gone to one class since arriving in New York. Also, I had spent a lot of money on my experiments. One day, while I was working in my laboratory, Jules Simon knocked at my door. He lived in the apartment just above mine. I knew he loved jewelry, expensive clothing and good living. There was something mysterious about him, too. He always had something to sell: a painting, a rare stature, an expensive pair of lamps. I never understood why Simon did this. He didn’t seem to need the money.  He had many friends among the best families of New York. Simon was very excited as he came into my laboratory. “O my dear fellow!” he gasped.  “I have just seen the most amazing thing in the world!” He told me he had gone to visit a woman who had strange, magical powers. She could speak to the dead and read the minds of the living. To test her, Simon had written some questions about himself on a piece of paper. The woman, Madame Vulpes, had answered all of the questions correctly. Hearing about the woman gave me an idea. Perhaps she would be able to help me discover the secret of the perfect lens. Two days later, I went to her house. Madame Vulpes was an ugly woman with sharp, cruel eyes. She didn’t say a word to me when she opened the door, but took me right into her living room. We sat down at a large round table, and she spoke. “What do you want from me?” “I want to speak to a person who died many years before I was born.” “Put your hands on the table.” We sat there for several minutes. The room grew darker and darker. But Madame Vulpes did not turn on any lights. I began to feel a little silly. Then I felt a series of violent knocks. They shook the table, the back of my chair, the floor under my feet and even the windows. Madam Vulpes smiled. “They are very strong tonight. You are lucky. They want you to write down the name of the spirit you wish to talk to.” I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote down a name. I didn’t show it to Madame Vulpes. After a moment, Madame Vulpes’ hand began to shake so hard the table moved. She said the spirit was now holding her hand and would write me a message. I gave her paper and a pencil. She wrote something and gave the paper to me. The message read: “I am here. Question me.” It was signed “Leeuwenhoek.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. The name was the same one I had written on my piece of paper. I was sure that an ignorant woman like Madame Vulpes would not know who Leeuwenhoek was. Why would she know the name of the man who invented the microscope? Quickly, I wrote a question on another piece of paper. “How can I create the perfect lens?” Leeuwenhoek wrote back: “Find a diamond of one hundred and forty carats. Give it a strong electrical charge. The electricity will change the diamond’s atoms. From that stone you can form the perfect lens.” I left Madame Vulpes’ house in a state of painful excitement. Where would I find a diamond that large? All my family’s money could not buy a diamond like that. And even if I had enough money, I knew that such diamonds are very difficult to find. When I came home, I saw a light in Simon’s window. I climbed the stairs to his apartment and went in without knocking. Simon’s back was toward me as he bent over a lamp.  He looked as if he were carefully studying a small object in his hands. As soon as he heard me enter, he put the object in his pocket. His face became red, and he seemed very nervous. “What are you looking at?” I asked. Simon didn’t answer me. Instead, he laughed nervously and told me to sit down. I couldn’t wait to tell him my news. “Simon, I have just come from Madame Vulpes. She gave me some important information that will help me find the perfect lens. If only I could find a diamond that weighs one hundred forty carats!” My words seemed to change Simon into a wild animal. He rushed to a small table and grabbed a long, thin knife. “No!” he shouted. “You won’t get my treasure! I’ll die before I give it to you!” “My dear Simon,” I said, “I don’t know what you are talking about. I went to Madame Vulpes to ask her for help with a scientific problem. She told me I needed an enormous diamond. You could not possibly own a diamond that large. If you did, you would be very rich. And you wouldn’t be living here.” He stared at me for a second.  Then he laughed and apologized. “Simon,” I suggested, “let us drink some wine and forget all this. I have two bottles downstairs in my apartment. What do you think?” “I like your idea,” he said. I brought the wine to his apartment, and we began to drink. By the time we had finished the first bottle, Simon was very sleepy and very drunk. I felt as calm as ever…for I believed that I knew Simon’s secret. 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Write to us in the Comments Section or on our Facebook page. ______________________________________________________________ Words in This Story   microscope – n. a device used to make very small things look larger so they can be studied lens - n. a clear curved piece of glass or plastic that is used to make things look clearer, smaller, or bigger magnify - v. to make (something) appear larger ignorant -  adj. lacking knowledge or information carat – n. a unit for measuring the weight of jewels (such as diamonds) that is equal to 200 milligrams​ enormous - adj. very great in size or amount http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/the-diamond-lens-part-one-fitz-james-o-brien/3488106.html http://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/the-diamond-lens-part-one-fitz-james-o-brien/3488106.html Fri, 02 Sep 2016 21:00:00 +0000 American StoriesFeatured Storieshttp://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/the-diamond-lens-part-one-fitz-james-o-brien/3488106.html#relatedInfoContainer