A long time ago, a magician wanted a very special magic lamp. But the lamp was in a cave in China. The magician couldn’t go into the cave to get the lamp. Only a boy could get the magic lamp from the cave.
The magician went to China. There, in a market, he saw a poor boy. The boy had a basket of bread.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ asked the magician. ‘Aladdin, sir,’ said the boy. ‘Please, buy my bread.’
Ali Baba was a woodcutter. He was from Persia, in the Middle East.
One day he was at work in the woods when he saw forty men on forty black horses. They stopped near a huge rock. They had forty big, heavy, brown sacks on their backs. Ali Baba watched the men as they got off their horses.
‘Look, Brian! Those are our motorcycles!’ David says.
David and Brian are at Heathrow Airport in London. They are motorcycle racers from Enfield, a small town in England.
They usually race in England, and in European countries, but this time they are going to Brazil. Racers from many countries are going there, too. They are all going to race across the Amazon jungle. Brian is reading a newspaper.
CHAPTER ONE
A bad day at work
Angel looked at his watch. It was after nine o’clock. ‘Where are you, Buffy?’ he thought.
The Bronze was busy tonight but Angel sat alone. He looked at the young faces around him. People laughed and danced. ‘This is Buffy’s world,’ he thought. ‘Why am I here?’ But he already knew the answer. He was there because he loved Buffy.
With his dark eyes, he watched the door.
CHAPTER ONE
The Time Traveller
The Time Traveller (it will be convenient to call him this) was talking to us about geometry. His grey eyes shone and his usually pale face was red and excited. The fire burned brightly and there was that relaxed after-dinner feeling when thoughts run freely.
‘You must listen carefully. I shall have to destroy one or two ideas that almost everyone accepts – for example, the geometry that they taught you at school. You know, of course, that a mathematical line, a line with no thickness, doesn’t really exist. They taught you that? A mathematical model, which only has length, width and thickness, doesn’t really exist either. It’s just an idea.’
My name is Arthur Kipps. When I was a young man, I worked in London. I was a solicitor. I worked for the same company all my life.
Fourteen years ago, I bought this house called Monk’s Piece. I live here with my dear wife, Esme.
Esme’s first husband had died. She was a widow when I married her. I became the father of her four young children. Our years at Monk’s Piece have been happy ones. Continue reading
Chapter one
The Road to Castle Dracula
My name is Jonathan Harker. I am a lawyer and I live in London. About seven years ago, some strange and terrible things happened to me. Many of my dear friends were in danger too. At last we have decided to tell the story of that terrible time.
Part of my work is to find houses in England for rich people who live in foreign countries. At the beginning of 1875, I received a letter from Transylvania, a country in Eastern Europe. The letter was from a rich man called Count Dracula. He wanted to buy a house near London.
Chapter one
Anck-su-namun
Thebes, Egypt, 1290 BC
Thebes was the city of Imhotep, the High Priest of the Dead. It was also the city of Anck-su-namun. Anck-su-namun was the Pharaoh’s lover. But she loved Imhotep.
Imhotep walked into her bedroom and took the beautiful woman in his arms.
“My love for you is more important than life,” he said.
Outside the bedroom door, Imhoteps priests watched. But when Pharaoh Seti the First of Egypt walked in, they couldn’t stop him.
Chapter one
The Man Who Died
My name is Richard Hannay and I am thirty-seven years old.
I was born in Scotland, but in 1883 my family moved to Rhodesia. I grew up in Africa and worked hard for 20 years. Then, in March 1914, I returned to Britain. That was five months before the First World War began. I brought a lot of money with me and I wanted to have a good time. Britain was the centre of all my dreams and plans, and I hoped to stay there for the rest of my life.
In May I was living in a flat in London. One evening I was alone there, reading the newspaper. I was interested in a story about Karolides, the Greek Prime Minister.
Chapter one
Is Billy Marr telling the truth?
‘Tell me again about this woman you killed, Billy,’ said Logan.
It was late one Thursday afternoon and Inspector Jenny Logan of the Edinburgh police was sitting at her desk in the London Road police station. Opposite her was an ordinary-looking man wearing a dirty pair of jeans, an old blue pullover and a dark green jacket with holes in it. His name was Billy Marr.
‘I’ve told you already, Inspector,’ said Billy, waving a finger in the air. ‘She’s up on Calton Hill. I killed her with my own hands. I killed her and left her body in the grass.’
English For You 