Wednesday, October 31, 2018

many interesting story of b24

many interesting story of b24

"Good evening, sir! You are very welcome!" said a voice.
I've had some starts in my life, but never one to come up to that one. There, in the opening of the shutters, within reach of my arm, was standing a woman with a small coil of wax taper burning in her hand. She was tall and straight and slender, with a beautiful white face that might have been cut out of clear marble, but her hair and eyes were as black as night. She was dressed in some sort of white dressing-gown which flowed down to her feet, and what with this robe and what with her face, it seemed as if a spirit from above was standing in front of me. My knees knocked together, and I held on to the shutter with one hand to give me support. I should have turned and run away if I had had the strength, but I could only just stand and stare at her.
She soon brought me back to myself once more.
"Don't be frightened!" said she, and they were strange words for the mistress of a house to have to use to a burglar. "I saw you out of my bedroom window when you were hiding under those trees, so I slipped downstairs, and then I heard you at the window. I should have opened it for you if you had waited, but you managed it yourself just as I came up."
I still held in my hand the long clasp-knife with which I had opened the shutter. I was unshaven and grimed from a week on the roads. Altogether, there are few people who would have cared to face me alone at one in the morning; but this woman, if I had been her lover meeting her by appointment, could not have looked upon me with a more welcoming eye. She laid her hand upon my sleeve and drew me into the room.
"What's the meaning of this, ma'am? Don't get trying any little games upon me," said I, in my roughest way—and I can put it on rough when I like. "It'll be the worse for you if you play me any trick," I added, showing her my knife.
"I will play you no trick," said she. "On the contrary, I am your friend, and I wish to help you."
"Excuse me, ma'am, but I find it hard to believe that," said I. "Why should you wish to help me?"
"I have my own reasons," said she; and then suddenly, with those black eyes blazing out of her white face: "It's because I hate him, hate him, hate him! Now you understand."
I remembered what the landlord had told me, and I did understand. I looked at her Ladyship's .face, and I knew that I could trust her. She wanted to revenge herself upon her husband. She wanted to hit him where it would hurt him most—upon the pocket. She hated him so that she would even lower her pride to take such a man as me into her confidence if she could gain her end by doing so. I've hated some folk in my time, but I don't think I ever understood what hate was until I saw that woman's face in the light of the taper.
"You'll trust me now?" said she, with another coaxing touch upon my sleeve.
"Yes, your Ladyship."
"You know me, then?"
"I can guess who you are."
"I daresay my wrongs are the talk of the county. But what does he care for that? He only cares for one thing in the whole world, and that you can take from him this night. Have you a bag?"
"No, your Ladyship."
"Shut the shutter behind you. Then no one can see the light. You are quite safe. The servants all sleep in the other wing. I can show you where all the most valuable things are. You cannot carry them all, so we must pick the best."
The room in which I found myself was long and low, with many rugs and skins scattered about on a polished wood floor. Small cases stood here and there, and the walls were decorated with spears and swords and paddles, and other things which find their way into museums. There were some queer clothes, too, which had been brought from savage countries, and the lady took down a large leather sack-bag from among them.
"This sleeping-sack will do," said she. "Now come with me and I will show you where the medals are."
It was like a dream to me to think that this tall, white woman wag the lady of the house, and that she was lending me a hand to rob her own home. I could have burst out laughing at the thought of it, and yet there was something in that pale face of hers which stopped my laughter and turned me cold and serious. She swept on in front of me like a spirit, with the green taper in her hand, and I walked behind with my sack until we came to a door at the end of this museum. It was locked, but the key was in it, and she led me through.
The room beyond was a small one, hung all round with curtains which had pictures on them. It was the hunting of a deer that was painted on it, as I remember, and in the flicker of that light you'd have sworn that the dogs and the horses were streaming round the walls. The only other thing in the room was a row of cases made of walnut, with brass ornaments. They had glass tops, and beneath this glass I saw the long lines of those gold medals, some of them as big as a plate and half an inch thick, all resting upon red velvet and glowing and gleaming in the darkness. My fingers were just itching to be at them, and I slipped my knife under the lock of one of the cases to wrench it open.
"Wait a moment," said she, laying her hand upon my arm. "You might do better than this."
"I am very well satisfied, ma'am," said I, "and much obliged to your Ladyship for kind assistance."
"You can do better," she repeated. "Would not golden sovereigns be worth more to you than these things?"
"Why, yes," said I. "That's best of all,"
"Well," said she. "He sleeps just above our head. It is but one short staircase. There is a tin box with money enough to fill this bag under his bed."
"How can I get it without waking him?"
"What matter if he does wake?" She looked very hard at me as she spoke. "You could keep him from calling out."
"No, no, ma'am, I'll have none of that."
"Just as you like," said she. "I thought that you were a stout-hearted sort of man by your appearance, but I see that I made a mistake. If you are afraid to run the risk of one old man, then of course you cannot have the gold which is under his bed. You are the best judge of your own business, but I should think that you would do better at some other trade."
"I'll not have murder on my conscience."
"You could overpower him without harming him. I never said anything of murder. The money lies under the bed. But if you are faint-hearted, it is better that you should not attempt it."
She worked upon me so, partly with her scorn and partly with this money that she held before my eyes, that I believe I should have yielded and taken my chances upstairs, had it not been that I saw her eyes following the struggle within me in such a crafty, malignant fashion, that it was evident she was bent upon making me the tool of her revenge, and that she would leave me no choice but to do the old man an injury or to be captured by him. She felt suddenly that she was giving herself away, and she changed her face to a kindly, friendly smile, but it was too late, for had had my warning.
"I will not go upstairs," said I. "I have all I want here."
She looked her contempt at me, and there never was a face which could look it plainer.
"Very good. You can take these medals. I should be glad if you would begin at this end. I suppose they will all be the same value when melted down, but these are the ones which arc the rarest, and, therefore, the most precious to him. It is not necessary to break the locks. If you press that brass knob you will find that there is a secret spring. So! Take that small one first —it is the very apple of his eye."
She had opened one of the cases, and the beautiful things all lay exposed before me. I had my hand upon the one which she had pointed out, when suddenly a change came over her face, and she held up one finger as a warning. "Hist!" she whispered. "What is that?"
Far away in the silence of the house we heard a low, dragging, shuffling sound, and the distant tread of feet. She closed and fastened the case in an instant.
"It's my husband!" she whispered. "All right. Don't be alarmed. I'll arrange it. Here! Quick, behind the tapestry! "
She pushed me behind the painted curtains upon the wall, my empty leather bag still in my hand, Then she took her taper and walked quickly into the room from which we had come. From where I stood I could see her through the open door.
"Is that you, Robert? " she cried.
The light of a candle shone through the door of the museum, and the shuffling steps came nearer and nearer. Then I saw a face in the doorway, a great, heavy face, all lines and creases, with a huge curving nose, and a pair of gold glasses fixed across it. He had to throw his head back to see through the glasses, and that great nose thrust out in front of him like the beak of some sort of fowl. He was a big man, very tall and burly, so that in his loose dressing-gown his figure seemed to fill up the whole doorway. He had a pile of grey, curling hair all round his head, but his face was clean-shaven. His mouth was thin and small and prim, hidden away under his long, masterful nose. He stood there, holding the candle in front of him, and looking at his wife with a queer, malicious gleam in his eyes. It only needed that one look to tell me that he was as fond of her as she was of him.
"How's this?" he asked. "Some new tantrum? What do you mean by wandering about the house? Why don't you go to bed? "
"I could not sleep," she answered. She spoke languidly and wearily. If she was an actress once, she had not forgotten her calling.
"Might I suggest," said he, in the same mocking kind of voice, "that a good conscience is an excellent aid to sleep?"
"That cannot be true," she answered, "for you sleep very well."
"I have only one thing in my life to be ashamed of," said he, and his hair bristled up with anger until he looked like an old cockatoo. "You know best what that is. It is a mistake which has brought its own punishment with it."
"To me as well as to you. Remember that!"
"You have very little to whine about. It was I who stooped and you who rose."
"Rose!"
"Yes, rose. I suppose you do not deny that it is promotion to exchange the music-hall for Mannering Hall. Fool that I was ever to take you out of your true sphere!"
"If you think so, why do you not separate?"
"Because private misery is better than public humiliation. Because it is easier to suffer for a mistake than to own to it. Because also I like to keep you in my sight, and to know that you cannot go back to him."
"You villain! You cowardly villain!"
"Yes, yes, my lady. I know your secret ambition, but it shall never be while I live, and if it happens after my death I will at least take care that you go to him as a beggar. You and dear Edward will never have the satisfaction of squandering my savings, and you may make up your mind to that, my lady. Why are those shutters and the window open?"
"I found the night very close."
"It is not safe. How do you know that some tramp may not be outside? Are you aware that my collection of medals is worth more than any similar collection in the world? You have left the door open also. What is there to prevent any one from rifling the cases?"
"I was here."
"I know you were. I heard you moving about in the medal room, and that was why I came down. What were you doing?"
"Looking at the medals. What else should I be doing?"
"This curiosity is something new." He looked suspiciously at her and moved on towards the inner room, she walking beside him.
It was at this moment that I saw something which startled me. I had laid my clasp-knife open upon the top of one of the cases, and there it lay in full view. She saw it before he did, and with a woman's cunning she held her taper out so that the light of it came between Lord Mannering's eyes and the knife. Then she took it in her left hand and held it against her gown out of his sight. He looked about from case to case—I could have put my hand at one time upon his long nose—but there was nothing to show that the medals had been tampered with, and so, still snarling and grumbling, he shuffled off into the other room once more.
And now I have to speak of what I heard rather than of what I saw, but I swear to you, as I shall stand some day before my Maker, that what I say is the truth.
When they passed into the outer room I saw him lay his candle upon the corner of one of the tables, and he sat himself down, but in such a position that he was just out of my sight. She moved behind him, as I could tell from the fact that the light of her taper threw his long, lumpy shadow upon the floor in front of him. Then he began talking about this man whom he called Edward, and every word that he said was like a blistering drop of vitriol. He spoke low, so that I could not hear it all, but from what I heard I should guess that she would as soon have been lashed with a whip. At first she said some hot words in reply, but then she was silent, and he went on and on in that cold, mocking voice of his, nagging and insulting and tormenting, until I wondered that she could bear to stand there in silence and listen to it. Then suddenly I heard him say in a sharp voice, "Come from behind me! Leave go of my collar! What! would you dare to strike me?" There was a sound like a blow, just a soft sort of thud, and then I heard him cry out, "My God, it's blood!" He shuffled with his feet as if he was getting up, and then I heard another blow, and lie cried out, "Oh, you she-devil!" and was quiet, except for a dripping and splashing upon the floor.
I ran out from behind my curtain at that, and rushed into the other room, shaking all over with the horror of it. The old man had slipped down in the chair, and his dressing-gown had rucked up until lie looked as if he had a monstrous hump to his back. His head, with the gold glasses still fixed on his nose, was lolling over upon one side, and his little mouth was open just like a dead fish. I could not see where the blood was coming from, but I could still hear it drumming upon the floor. She stood behind him with the candle shining full upon her face. Her lips were pressed together and her eyes shining, and a touch of colour had come into each of her cheeks. It just wanted that to make her the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.
"You've done it now!" said I.
"Yes," said she, in her quiet way, "I've done it now."
"What are you going to do?" I asked. "They'll have you for murder as sure as fate."
"Never fear about me. I have nothing to live for, and it does not matter. Give me a hand to set him straight in the chair. It is horrible to see him like this!"
I did so, though it turned me cold all over to touch him. Some of his blood came on my hand and sickened me.
"Now," said she, "you may as well have the medals as any one else. Take them and go."
"I don't want them. I only want to get away. I was never mixed up with a business like this before."
"Nonsense!" said she. "You came for the medals, and here they are at your mercy. Why should you not have them? There is no one to prevent you."
I held the bag still in my hand. She opened the case, and between us we throw a hundred or so of the medals into it. They were all from the one case, but I could not bring myself to wait for any more. Then I made for the window, for the very air of this house seemed to poison me after what I had seen and heard. As I looked back, I saw her standing there, tall and graceful, with the light in her hand, just as I had seen her first. She waved good-bye, and I waved back at her and sprang out into the gravel drive.
I thank God that I can lay my hand upon my heart and say that I have never done a murder, but perhaps it would be different if I had been able to read that woman's mind and thoughts. There might have been two bodies in the room instead of one if I could have seen behind that last smile of hers. But I thought of nothing but of getting safely away, and it never entered my head how she might be fixing the rope round my neck. I had not taken five steps out from the window skirting down the shadow of the house in the way that I had come, when I heard a scream that might have raised the parish, and then another and another.
"Murder!" she cried. "Murder! Murder! Help!" and her voice rang out in the quiet of the night-time and sounded over the whole country-side. It went through my head, that dreadful cry. In an instant lights began to move and windows to fly up, not only in the house behind me, but at the lodge and in the stables in front. Like a frightened rabbit I bolted down the drive, but I heard the clang of the gate being shut before I could reach it. Then I hid my bag of medals under some dry fagots, and I tried to get away across the park, but some one saw me in .the moonlight, and presently I had half a dozen of them with dogs upon my heels. I crouched down among the brambles, but those dogs were too many for me, and I was glad enough when the men came up and prevented me from being torn into pieces. They seized me, and dragged me back to the room from which I had come.
"Is this the man, your Ladyship?" asked the oldest of them—the same whom I found out afterwards to be the butler.
She had been bending over the body, with her her handkerchief to her eyes, and now she turned upon me with the face of a fury. Oh, what an actress that woman was!
"Yes, yes, it is the very man," she cried. Oh, you villain, you cruel villain, to treat an old man so!"
There was a man there who seemed to be a village constable. He laid his hand upon my shoulder.
"What do you say to that?" said he.
"It was she who did it," I cried, pointing at the woman, whose eyes never flinched before mine.
"Come! come! Try another!" said the constable, and one of the men- servants struck at me with his fist.
"I tell you that I saw her do it. She stabbed him twice with a knife. She first helped me to rob him, and then she murdered him."
The footman tried to strike me again, but she held up her hand.
"Do not hurt him," said she. "I think that his punishment may safely be left to the law."
"I'll see to that, your Ladyship," said the constable. "Your Ladyship actually saw the crime committed, did you not?"
"Yes, yes, I saw it with my own eyes. It was horrible. We heard the noise and we came down. My poor husband was in front. The man had one of the cases open, and was filling a black leather bag which he held in his hand. He rushed past us, and my husband seized him. There was a struggle, and he stabbed him twice. There you can see the blood upon his hands. If I am not mistaken, his knife is still in Lord Mannering's body."
"Look at the blood upon her hands!" I cried.
"She has been holding up his Lordship's head, you lying rascal," said the butler.
"And here's the very sack her Ladyship spoke of," said the constable, as a groom came in with the one which I had dropped in my flight. "And hero are the medals inside it. That's good enough for me. We will keep him safe here to- night, and tomorrow the inspector and I can take him into Salisbury."
"Poor creature," said the woman. "For my own part, I forgive him any injury which lie has done me. Who knows what temptation may have driven him to crime? His conscience and the law will give him punishment enough without any reproach of mine rendering it more bitter."
I could not answer—I tell you, sir, I could not answer, so taken aback was I by the assurance of the woman. And so, seeming by my silence to agree to all that she had said, I was dragged away by the butler and the constable into the cellar, in which they locked me for the night.
There, sir, I have told you the whole story of the events which led up to the murder of Lord Mannering by his wife upon the night of September the 14th, in the year 1894. Perhaps you will put my statement on one side as the constable did at Mannering Towers, or the judge afterwards at the county assizes. Or perhaps you will see that there is the ring of truth in what I say, and you will follow it up, and so make your name for ever as a man who does not grudge personal trouble where justice is to be done. I have only you to look to, sir, and if you will clear my name of this false accusation, then I will worship you as one man never yet worshipped another. But if you fail me, then I give you my solemn promise that I will rope myself up, this day month, to the bar of my window, and from that time on I will come to plague you in your dreams if ever yet one man was able to come back and to haunt another. What I ask you to do is very simple. Make inquiries about this woman, watch her, learn her past history, find out what use she is making of the money which has come to her, and whether there is not a man Edward as I have stated. If from all this you learn anything which shows you her real character, or which seems to you to corroborate the story which I have told you, then I am sure that I can rely upon your goodness of heart to come to the rescue of an innocent man. 
this story has one interesting side where there is one who tries to steal in a house owned by a noble family whose action is caught by the nobleman's wife and one of the interesting side is that the wife hates the noble husband and tries to kill her husband himself

NIM : 183211127
NAMA: ADY SATRIO NUGROHO 

the story of B24

                                                                The story of B24

           Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle DL (22 May 1859 - 7 July 1930) was a Scottish physician and writer who is most noted for his fictional stories about the detective Sherlock Holmes, which are generally considered milestones in the field of crime fiction. He is also known for writing the fictional adventures of a second character he invented, Professor Challenger, and for popularising the mystery of the Mary Celeste. He was a prolific writer whose other works include fantasy and science fiction stories, plays, romances, poetry, non-fiction, and historical novels. Sherlock Holmes is a fictional detective created by Scottish author and physician Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, a graduate of the University of Edinburgh Medical School. A London-based "consulting detective" whose abilities border on the fantastic, Holmes is famous for his astute logical reasoning, his ability to adopt almost any disguise, and his use of forensic science skills to solve difficult cases. Holmes, who first appeared in publication in 1887, was featured in four novels and 56 short stories. The first novel, A Study in Scarlet, appeared in Beeton's Christmas Annual in 1887 and the second, The Sign of the Four, in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine in 1890. The character grew tremendously in popularity with the first series of short stories in The Strand Magazine, beginning with "A Scandal in Bohemia" in 1891; further series of short stories and two novels published in serial form appeared between then and 1927. The stories cover a period from around 1880 up to 1914. All but four stories are narrated by Holmes's friend and biographer, Dr. John H. Watson; two are narrated by Holmes himself ("The Blanched Soldier" and "The Lion's Mane") and two others are written in the third person ("The Mazarin Stone" and "His Last Bow"). In two stories ("The Musgrave Ritual" and "The Gloria Scott"), Holmes tells Watson the main story from his memories, while Watson becomes the narrator of the frame story. The first and fourth novels, A Study in Scarlet and The Valley of Fear, each include a long interval of omniscient narration recounting events unknown to either Holmes or Watson. In 1882 he joined former classmate George Turnavine Budd as his partner at a medical practice in Plymouth, but their relationship proved difficult, and Doyle soon left to set up an independent practice. Arriving in Portsmouth in June of that year with less than 10 ( 900 today) to his name, he set up a medical practice at 1 Bush Villas in Elm Grove, Southsea. The practice was initially not very successful. While waiting for patients, Doyle again began writing stories and composed his first novels, The Mystery of Cloomber, not published until 1888, and the unfinished Narrative of John Smith, which would go unpublished until 2011.

Name : Lisa Sada
NIM : 183211133  ( 1D/ SI. ) 

Happy Prince

The Happy Prince 
                The happy prince is a tale with multiple lessons. From one side it is the critic of the society that can be cruel and heartless and on the other side, it is about the compassion towards humans troubles.
                The main character knew only about nice things and after that, he decided to open his lead heart to everyone in need. When he helped them he didn’t regret about the decorations taken down from him and he keeps on doing noble things with the help of a swallow. The swallow was the proof that everyone can do selfless things even though they would maybe be risking their lives. His love and devotion were rewarded with an eternal life
                 Eventually, the little swallow lies at the feet of the statue and dies from exposure and exhaustion. He never made it to Egypt because he exchanged his dream of warm climates and comfort with a bigger dream to bring help to those who are in need.  The sculpture cracks with sadness at the loss of his friend, and his heart is exposed.  The most beautiful part of the statue the kind and giving heart could not be seen on the outside. Slowly, as the swallow continues to deliver the goods of the statue to the poor of thecity, he learns the social imbalance that exists in society, where some have too much and others too little. In the case of Wilde's time, Victorian England was experiencing the same inequity in the slum districts and Oscar's story is a clear allegory and metaphor of the British Social System at the time: Where the rich were filthy rich and the poor starved to death.
                   In the end, the swallow learns the lesson, the prince is completely run down from the
jewels and gold that decorated him and he was not worth attention anymore upon seeing the statue in such disrepair, the powerful people of the city, the Town Councilors and Mayor -decide that he is no longer useful, because he is no longer beautiful.  Much like the poor, who were exploited and tossed away by the rich,  the statue is taken down.

Name : Niyuraida Che-useng
NIM : 183211134

Is Your Poster The Best ???


Nowadays, people give education through any medias. One of them is a poster.  Attractive posters easily give a message to people. In the posters entitled "RIP Van Winkle" and "The Gift of The Magi", have something different. The posters are interesting with its narrative story. Each poster has different story and gives us many moral values.







            Firstly, a poster entitled “RIP Van Winkle” tells about a kind man, but he is lazy. His name is Rip. He has a fussy wife, because her always tells him to work. In the story, one day, he went to the forest with his dog. Then he met a dwarf. The dwarf asked for help to help the dwarf brought a barrel of water that would be given to other dwarfs. After that, Rip felt thirsty. Then, Rip drank three glasses of water was given by the dwarf. Then, Rip felt sleepy. He slept under a tree. Eventually, he woke up. He confused and called his dog, but the dog didn't exist. Then, he returned home. He very surprised, because his village changed. Rip asked everyone to looked for his wife and children. Finally, there was someone who knew his whereabouts and said that his wife had died and Rip met his son. His son told him that his son looked for his father for 20 years. Rip very surprised that he had slept for 20 years. There are some moral values in story of this poster. We must to help anyone in need. Life is mystery, so we must be careful and do our best.






Secondly, a poster entitled “The Gift of The Magi” tells about a young married couple, Jim and Della Dillingham. In a story, Jim didn't have enough money to gave Christmas gift for Della. So, he sold his watch to bought hair comb special for Della. In the other side, Della cut her hair for bought watch chain for Jim. After that, they enjoyed dinner and forgot about the shocking incident. There are some moral values in story of this poster. If you can’t give a gift, the best gift you can give is a pray. We must more communicate so we are not misunderstanding.



The posters above tell me that narrative story can make into a poster. The story of the poster can give more worth to attract someone. Someone will give attention, if there is a picture in a poster. The posters above are perfect, but each poster have each characteristic. Don't be afraid if we don't become the best, the important is we have done our best.







Posted by : Pandu Ihsanudin - 183211126

The Gift Of The Magi, The Story About Love

The gift of the magi contains story about love. In this story you will find many sacrifice love from the main character. The gift of the magi tells story about a couple who are not so rich. Nevertheless, they still live together with happiness. Until at the point they have to sacrifice for each other. They love each other so much. So, they want to do anything to each other. They want to gift the best thing that they can do for each other.
 I think the story is very good to kill the time. In this story the important thing that we can be taken from the story is that we have to give the best to the people that we love. In this story, love is so simple, because love that sincere want to accept you no matter who you are. You should only do your best for your love then make she or he feels happy and after that you will feels the name of true love.
In the story, explain that the woman want to sell her favorite hair for the sake of the man. And the man want to sell his favorite watch to buy some gift for the woman. They want to sacrifice anything for each other because they are really really love each other. If we want to love someone we must to be like them. We must do anything for our love like man and women in the story of the gift of the magi.
I think the story is very good. We can take many things from the story. And the moral value that we can conclude from the story the gift of the magi is we must give the best thing that we can do for our love and want to sacrifice anything if we really really love with someone. I think this story is very inspire for us when we will make some relationship with someone. We must to be like them.

183211124
Adi Purnawan
SI-1D

Summary of The Happy Prince

The happy prince is a tale with multiple lessons. From one side it is the critic of the society that can be cruel and heartless and on the other side, it is about the compassion towards humans troubles.
The main character knew only about nice things and after that, he decided to open his lead heart to everyone in need. When he helped them he didn’t regret about the decorations taken down from him and he keeps on doing noble things with the help of a swallow. The swallow was the proof that everyone can do selfless things even though they would maybe be risking their lives. His love and devotion were rewarded with an eternal life
Eventually, the little swallow lies at the feet of the statue and dies from exposure and exhaustion. He never made it to Egypt because he exchanged his dream of warm climates and comfort with a bigger dream to bring help to those who are in need.  The sculpture cracks with sadness at the loss of his friend, and his heart is exposed.  The most beautiful part of the statue the kind and giving heart could not be seen on the outside.
Slowly, as the swallow continues to deliver the goods of the statue to the poor of the
city, he learns the social imbalance that exists in society, where some have too much
and others too little. In the case of Wilde's time, Victorian England was experiencing
the same inequity in the slum districts and Oscar's story is a clear allegory and
metaphor of the British Social System at the time: Where the rich were filthy rich and
the poor starved to death.
In the end, the swallow learns the lesson, the prince is completely run down from the
jewels and gold that decorated him and he was not worth attention anymore
Upon seeing the statue in such disrepair, the powerful people of the city, the Town Councilors and Mayor -decide that he is no longer useful, because he is no longer beautiful.  Much like the poor, who were exploited and tossed away by the rich,  the statue is taken down.

NIM   : 183211106

Name : Naufal Hilmi D. H.

"Rip Van Winkle" Short Story Review

   Rip Van Winkle is a short story by the American author, Washington Irving. The story is published in 1819 and it's set in Catskill Mountains of New York.

   Story opens with a describe about the "magical" beauty of the Catskill Mountains. On a small village at the foot of these mountains, there lived a good-nature man named Rip Van Winkle. Rip's greatest trouble is his wife, Dame Van Winkle, who is very fussy and always complaining Rip, that he has no motivation to get a profitable job. Although, he likes to help work on the other's farm, he avoids work on his own farm and his land is severely run down. Every time his wife grumbled, his response is always resigned: he shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head, and looks up to the sky. The only way to avoid his angry wife is escape from his home. 
   Rip used to enjoy going to the inn and participating in idle talk with his neighbors. But then, his wife found him at the inn. Dame Van Winkle's discovery of the inn encouraged Rip to look for an escape elsewhere. Then, he explores the woods with his gun and his dog, Wolf. He involuntarily walked far enough into the woods. He is tired and decided to take a rest. When he wakes, he seems to hear a voice calling his name and immediately saw stranger standing on the path, carrying a keg on his back. Rip helps the stranger carry the keg up to the top of the peak, where a group of men is playing a ghostly game of ninepins (a game similar to bowling). Rip notices their clothes is antiquated, traditional Dutch clothes. When they see Rip, they stop playing, and silently direct Rip to pour the drink from the keg into flagons to serve them. Rip was scared at first, but eventually calms down and even goes so far as to sneak a sip of the drink. He found it so unbearable that he consumed a lot and fell asleep. 
   When Rip wakes up, it is bright and sunny outside. The strangers are gone, and there is no sign that they had ever been there. When he looks for his gun, all he can find is a rusty old one, and he believed someone swiped his gun and replaced it. Wolf is nowhere to be found. The strangest of all is Rip's beard now one foot long. Rip spends some time searching for his lost dog, but the area is strange to him, and hunger eventually drives him back to the village. When Rip reaches his village, he notices that it seems more populous and the buildings more numerous. His wife is gone, his dog is old and does not recognize him, and his house and property look as though they've been abandoned. Rip cries in confusion but then comforted when a woman carrying a baby comes forward to get a look at him, she is his daughter, Judith Gardenier. She is grown and has a son. Rip accepts that he has been asleep for 20 years, and tells his incredible story to his remaining family and the villagers. Rip moves in with his daughter and lives out his days in leisure.


Student Number : 183211109
Name : Nadya Octaviana Pramana Putri

Story Review: The Magic Shop - H. G. Wells

 

Story Review: The Magic Shop - H. G. Wells

“I had seen the Magic Shop from afar several times; I had passed it once or twice, a shop window of alluring little objects, magic balls, magic hens, wonderful cones, ventriloquist dolls, the material of the basket trick, packs of cards that looked all right, and all that sort of thing, but never had I thought of going in until one day, almost without warning, Gip hauled me by my finger right up to the window, and so conducted himself that there was nothing for it but to take him in.”
― H.G. Wells, The Magic Shop
This story is as magical as the title, The Magic Shop. Started from a boy named Gip who invited his father to enter a magic shop when they walked along the regent street. Gip was determined to go in, pulling his father by the finger. They entered, seeing a marvelous assortment of moving papier-mache tigers, magic hats, magic mirrors and the like. Gip is thrilled by all he sees. He thought that the objects there had magical powers. Besides that, Gip’s father and the shopkeeper spoke about what they want, and the shopkeeper preformed a few magical feats, to the amusement of the father, but when things become stranger and sinister father is no longer sure where reality ends and illusion begins. 

The best thing about this story is about the conflict raised. The shopkeeper invited him to a room. The room was full of things that Gip liked. It was long, and a gallery broken up by stands and stalls and pillars. There were archways that lead to the other departments, and the father could not find the door that they had come in from. The shopkeeper put a box of toy soldiers Gip had requested in a bag, that had Gip's full name and address on the paper. This distressed the father greatly. Without warning, the shopkeeper put a big drum over Gip, with Gip exclaiming "Hide and seek, dadda!". When the drum was raised, Gip was nowhere to be found. The father flew into a rage, chasing after the shopkeeper, who led him through a door, into utter darkness.

***

Name: Hanum Bella Ardya Garini
Student Number: 183211113
Class: English Literature 1D

CONFLICT OF THE HAPPY PRINCE

                                                         
          Conflict of The Happy Prince

     There was a prince who had gotten everything he wanted in life. He had not seen any sorrow in his life. The prince was determined too help his people in any way he could.

Conflict : there is pain and misery by the poor in the city. The prince is dead and being staue doesnt allow him to help his people persoally. "So I can see all the uggliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose my weep."
Rising action : The swallow arrives to be messenger for the prince. He will deliver what needs to be taken to the people of the city.
Climax : once all the jewels coming from the statue begin to finish, the prince decides to use his gold. swallow begins to scrape off the gold from the statue, in order to help out. the gold falls from the statue towards the children. "Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to poor..".
Falling Action : swallow dies due to cold weather and the happy prince dies from a broken heart. "Leaf after leaf of the happy prince looked quite dull and grey..". The statue of the prince is taken down since he is no longer beautiful and useful.

Internal conflict : When the happy prince knew that he is no longer alive, he couldnt help the poor.
External conflict : The happy prince could see all the ugliness and misery of his city, and knew he couldn't do anything to help because he was dead.

NIM : 183211112
NAME : DIMAS GETIH PANGESTU
CLASS : ENGLISH LITERATURE 1D

TALK SHOW The Poster posted by College student about Short Story of Magic Shop By H.G.Wells


TALK SHOW
The Poster posted by College student about Short Story of Magic Shop By H.G.Wells
s 
Raffika   : “Hello viewers who are in the studio or at home, come back with me, Raffika Abdilah, in our favorite event, "this is a real talk show" I was not alone today but I was accompanied by Mr. Vilya”

Mr.Vilya : “Yes, on this occasion we will discuss about the short story from H.G.Well. Entitled" Magic Shop "and on this occasion we will come to a guest star, a college student who has posted a poster of the short story H.G.Wells last week.”

Raffika   : "Who's who he is?"

Mr.Vilya : “Immediately we call, this is Hanum Bela!”

Raffika : “Hello Hanum, how are you?”

Hanum : “I’m fine”

Raffika : “Thankfully, by the way you said, you really like writing?”

Hanum : “Yes, I like writing since high school but I also have a collection of books”

Raffika : “Oh yes?, it's just right on your Instagram to post it almost all books”

Mr.Vilya : “And by the way, I saw the last post about the poster about the short story Magic Shop By. H. G.Wells, can you explain the core story?”
 
Hanum : “ Oke, i’ll tell a summary short story magic shop. While on a walk with his son Gip, they happen upon a Magic Shop. Now, the father had seen this particular shop several times. Gip was determined to go in, pulling his father by the finger. They entered, seeing a marvelous assortment of moving papier-mache tigers, magic hats, magic mirrors and the like. Behind the counter was a strange figure, with one ear bigger than the other and a chin like a toe-cap of a boot. The father and the shopkeeper spoke about what they want, and the shopkeeper preformed a few magical feats, to the amusement of the father. After speaking for a bit, the shopkeeper makes a remark about how Gip was the Right Sort of Boy. He then says that it is only the right sort of boy that gets through that door-way. At that instant, almost with perfect timing, a child banged on the door, demanding entrance, but the door had locked somehow. The shopkeeper gifted them with more items, and preformed several more feats of magic. Suddenly, the shopkeeper paused, and wouldn't move. Gip and his father went behind the counter, thinking he was messing with him, but there was no one there. The shopkeeper reappeared Gip went with him to the show room, with the father not far behind. The shopkeeper showed Gip a whole array of wonderful things, much to Gip's own amusement. The shopkeeper put a box of toy soldiers Gip had requested in a bag, that had Gip's full name and address on the paper. This distressed the father greatly. Without warning, the shopkeeper put a big drum over Gip, with Gip exclaiming "Hide and seek, dadda!". When the drum was raised, Gip was nowhere to be found. The father flew into a rage, chasing after the shopkeeper, who led him through a door, into utter darkness....
Mr.Vilya : “How long do you finish read the story?”
Hanum : “Two days to understand the story about”
Mr.Vilya : “How long do you design the poster?”
Mr.Vilya : “And the last does the story is difficult ?”
Hanum : “Yes, because the story used classic sentences”
Raffika : "Okay thank you Hanum for the time to share with us. Okay, the viewers were not felt for half an hour. We brought this event, and hopefully it can be useful.I’m Raffika resign to see you and good bye"


 
NAME   : RAFFIKA ABDILAH
NIM       : 183211110

many interesting story of b24

many interesting story of b24 "Good evening, sir! You are very welcome!" said a voice. I've had some starts in my life, b...