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Freakaloin
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Old Yeller
This book is named Old Yeller and it is by Fred Gipson. This book is based on a 14-year-old boy named Travis and his dog Old Yeller. This book takes place in an old log cabin in Birdsong Creek, with Travis explaining his story from the beginning.
Travis was a lonely boy from Kansas who one day finds a yellow haired dog that first makes him so mad that he wanted to shoot the dog, but when he does have to shoot him his conscience holds him back. He begs his father to keep him and at first he was hesitant not to let Travis, but finally comes to his senses, and lets him keep him. Travis named the dog Old Yeller, which kind of has a double meaning, old meaning how old the dog looked, and Yeller meaning he had stingy, short yellow hair. Travis didn’t have any friends until he met the dog, which afterwards he began a friendship with Old Yeller. But suddenly when Travis` dad was called off to a cattle drive to make money. At first Travis didn’t want him to go, but they need the money. Poor Travis was left with his hands full, but Old Yeller made it more manageable for Travis by giving him a hand. But suddenly 3 days after the absence of Travis` father a very terrible disease that wreaks havoc upon the small state of Kansas. The disease is said to turn animals and humans into weird and mad creatures. This leaves Travis, his Mother and Arliss very scared for the health of their father. After the first week goes by and no sign of the father anywhere, the family keeps warm by wrapping a blanket around them and letting the body heat keep them warm. Finally after a week and a half the father returns safe and healthy with a big wad of cash in his hand.
In the end when Travis` father comes back, but Old Yeller is affected by the disease and dies. But the bright side is Travis` father comes back with a bunch of money. But still Travis can never have the kind of friendship that he had with Old Yeller.
__________________________
CATO
OR, AN ESSAY ON OLD AGE
by Cicero
translated by W. Melmoth
TO TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS. -
Ah, could my numbers charm thy anxious breast
And lull the sorrows of thy soul to rest;
Would'st thou not deem the poet's lenient lay
More worth than sums of countless gold could pay?
[Ennius, Ann. x.] -
For well may I address you, my friend, in those lines of the honest bard, -
Far less for wealth than probity renowned, -
with which he opens his poem inscribed to Flamininus. I am sensible at the same time that when the poet adds, -
Each rising sun beholds thy ceaseless grief,
And night returning brings thee no relief. -
he holds a language by no means applicable to you. I perfectly well know the moderation and equanimity you possess; and that you have derived from Athens, not only an honourable addition to your name, but that calm and philosophic spirit which so peculiarly distinguishes your character. Nevertheless, I have reason to believe that the present unpleasing posture of public affairs sometimes interrupts your tranquillity of mind; as it frequently, I confess, discomposes my own. But it is not my present purpose to offer you any consolation upon that subject: the case requires a very powerful application; and I will reserve what I have to say upon it to some future opportunity. My design at this time is only to communicate to you a few reflections concerning Old Age: the infirmities whereof we are now beginning to feel, or at least are advancing fast towards them: and I am desirous of rendering the burthen as easy as possible to you and to myself. I am well convinced indeed that as you have hitherto borne its weight, so you will continue to support its increasing pressure, with the same good sense and composure of mind which you have so happily discovered upon every other important occasion. However, having resolved to publish some reflections upon the subject, I determined to address them to you, who have a peculiar claim to this pledge of my affection: and it is a present to which we may both of us have recourse with equal advantage. For myself, at least, the considerations I now lay before you have had so happy an effect on my own mind, as not only to reconcile me to all the inconveniences of old age, but to render it even an agreeable state to me.
Can we sufficiently then express our sense of the obligations we owe to philosophy, who thus instructs her disciples how to pass through every successive period of human life with equal satisfaction and complacency? The advantages to be derived from her precepts, in other important situations, is a topic upon which I have frequently had occasion to expatiate, and shall often perhaps resume: but in the papers I now send you, my purpose is to consider those advantages with respect only to our declining years. To have put these reflections into the mouth of an imaginary character, like the Tithonus of Aristo, would have made but little impression upon the reader: in order therefore to give them the greater force, I have represented them as delivered by the venerable Cato. To this end I have introduced Scipio and Laelius, as expressing to him their admiration of the wonderful ease with which he supported his old age: and this gives him occasion to enter into a full explanation of his ideas upon the subject. If you should think that he discovers, in this conversation, a richer vein of literature than appears in his own compositions, you must impute it to the acquaintance he afterwards made with the Greek authors, whose language and philosophy, it is well known, he passionately studied in the latter end of his long life. I have only to add, that in delivering the sentiments of Cato, I desire to be understood as fully declaring my own. -
SCIPIO.- I have frequently, Cato, joined with our friend Laelius, in admiring that consummate wisdom and virtue, which upon all occasions so eminently distinguishes your character; but particularly, in that singular ease and cheerfulness with which you seem to bear up under those years which are pressing upon you. I could never observe that they are attended with the least inconvenience to you: whereas the generality of men, at your time of life, usually complain of old age as the heaviest and most insupportable of burthens.
CATO.- There is nothing, my friends, in the circumstance you have remarked, that can justly, I think, deserve your admiration. Those indeed who have no internal resource of happiness, will find themselves uneasy in every stage of human life: but to him who is accustomed to derive all his felicity from within himself, no state will appear as a real evil into which he is conducted by the common and regular course of nature. Now this is peculiarly the case with respect to old age: yet such is the inconsistency of human folly, that the very period which at a distance is every man's warmest wish to attain, no sooner arrives than it is equally the object of his lamentations. It is usual with men at this season of life to complain that old age has stolen upon them by surprise, and much sooner than they expected. But if they were deceived by their own false calculations, must not the blame rest wholly on themselves? For, in the first place, old age surely does not gain by swifter and more imperceptible steps on manhood, than manhood advances on youth; and in the next, in what respect would age have sitten less heavily upon them, had its progress been much slower, and, instead of making his visit at fourscore years, it had not reached them till four hundred? For the years that are elapsed, how numerous soever they may have been, can by no means console a weak and frivolous mind under the usual consequences of long life. If I have any claim therefore to that wisdom which you tell me, my friends, you have often admired in my character (and which I can only wish indeed were worthy of the opinion you entertain of it, and the appellation the world has conferred upon me), it consists wholly in this, that I follow nature as the surest guide, and resign myself with an implicit
This book is named Old Yeller and it is by Fred Gipson. This book is based on a 14-year-old boy named Travis and his dog Old Yeller. This book takes place in an old log cabin in Birdsong Creek, with Travis explaining his story from the beginning.
Travis was a lonely boy from Kansas who one day finds a yellow haired dog that first makes him so mad that he wanted to shoot the dog, but when he does have to shoot him his conscience holds him back. He begs his father to keep him and at first he was hesitant not to let Travis, but finally comes to his senses, and lets him keep him. Travis named the dog Old Yeller, which kind of has a double meaning, old meaning how old the dog looked, and Yeller meaning he had stingy, short yellow hair. Travis didn’t have any friends until he met the dog, which afterwards he began a friendship with Old Yeller. But suddenly when Travis` dad was called off to a cattle drive to make money. At first Travis didn’t want him to go, but they need the money. Poor Travis was left with his hands full, but Old Yeller made it more manageable for Travis by giving him a hand. But suddenly 3 days after the absence of Travis` father a very terrible disease that wreaks havoc upon the small state of Kansas. The disease is said to turn animals and humans into weird and mad creatures. This leaves Travis, his Mother and Arliss very scared for the health of their father. After the first week goes by and no sign of the father anywhere, the family keeps warm by wrapping a blanket around them and letting the body heat keep them warm. Finally after a week and a half the father returns safe and healthy with a big wad of cash in his hand.
In the end when Travis` father comes back, but Old Yeller is affected by the disease and dies. But the bright side is Travis` father comes back with a bunch of money. But still Travis can never have the kind of friendship that he had with Old Yeller.
__________________________
CATO
OR, AN ESSAY ON OLD AGE
by Cicero
translated by W. Melmoth
TO TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS. -
Ah, could my numbers charm thy anxious breast
And lull the sorrows of thy soul to rest;
Would'st thou not deem the poet's lenient lay
More worth than sums of countless gold could pay?
[Ennius, Ann. x.] -
For well may I address you, my friend, in those lines of the honest bard, -
Far less for wealth than probity renowned, -
with which he opens his poem inscribed to Flamininus. I am sensible at the same time that when the poet adds, -
Each rising sun beholds thy ceaseless grief,
And night returning brings thee no relief. -
he holds a language by no means applicable to you. I perfectly well know the moderation and equanimity you possess; and that you have derived from Athens, not only an honourable addition to your name, but that calm and philosophic spirit which so peculiarly distinguishes your character. Nevertheless, I have reason to believe that the present unpleasing posture of public affairs sometimes interrupts your tranquillity of mind; as it frequently, I confess, discomposes my own. But it is not my present purpose to offer you any consolation upon that subject: the case requires a very powerful application; and I will reserve what I have to say upon it to some future opportunity. My design at this time is only to communicate to you a few reflections concerning Old Age: the infirmities whereof we are now beginning to feel, or at least are advancing fast towards them: and I am desirous of rendering the burthen as easy as possible to you and to myself. I am well convinced indeed that as you have hitherto borne its weight, so you will continue to support its increasing pressure, with the same good sense and composure of mind which you have so happily discovered upon every other important occasion. However, having resolved to publish some reflections upon the subject, I determined to address them to you, who have a peculiar claim to this pledge of my affection: and it is a present to which we may both of us have recourse with equal advantage. For myself, at least, the considerations I now lay before you have had so happy an effect on my own mind, as not only to reconcile me to all the inconveniences of old age, but to render it even an agreeable state to me.
Can we sufficiently then express our sense of the obligations we owe to philosophy, who thus instructs her disciples how to pass through every successive period of human life with equal satisfaction and complacency? The advantages to be derived from her precepts, in other important situations, is a topic upon which I have frequently had occasion to expatiate, and shall often perhaps resume: but in the papers I now send you, my purpose is to consider those advantages with respect only to our declining years. To have put these reflections into the mouth of an imaginary character, like the Tithonus of Aristo, would have made but little impression upon the reader: in order therefore to give them the greater force, I have represented them as delivered by the venerable Cato. To this end I have introduced Scipio and Laelius, as expressing to him their admiration of the wonderful ease with which he supported his old age: and this gives him occasion to enter into a full explanation of his ideas upon the subject. If you should think that he discovers, in this conversation, a richer vein of literature than appears in his own compositions, you must impute it to the acquaintance he afterwards made with the Greek authors, whose language and philosophy, it is well known, he passionately studied in the latter end of his long life. I have only to add, that in delivering the sentiments of Cato, I desire to be understood as fully declaring my own. -
SCIPIO.- I have frequently, Cato, joined with our friend Laelius, in admiring that consummate wisdom and virtue, which upon all occasions so eminently distinguishes your character; but particularly, in that singular ease and cheerfulness with which you seem to bear up under those years which are pressing upon you. I could never observe that they are attended with the least inconvenience to you: whereas the generality of men, at your time of life, usually complain of old age as the heaviest and most insupportable of burthens.
CATO.- There is nothing, my friends, in the circumstance you have remarked, that can justly, I think, deserve your admiration. Those indeed who have no internal resource of happiness, will find themselves uneasy in every stage of human life: but to him who is accustomed to derive all his felicity from within himself, no state will appear as a real evil into which he is conducted by the common and regular course of nature. Now this is peculiarly the case with respect to old age: yet such is the inconsistency of human folly, that the very period which at a distance is every man's warmest wish to attain, no sooner arrives than it is equally the object of his lamentations. It is usual with men at this season of life to complain that old age has stolen upon them by surprise, and much sooner than they expected. But if they were deceived by their own false calculations, must not the blame rest wholly on themselves? For, in the first place, old age surely does not gain by swifter and more imperceptible steps on manhood, than manhood advances on youth; and in the next, in what respect would age have sitten less heavily upon them, had its progress been much slower, and, instead of making his visit at fourscore years, it had not reached them till four hundred? For the years that are elapsed, how numerous soever they may have been, can by no means console a weak and frivolous mind under the usual consequences of long life. If I have any claim therefore to that wisdom which you tell me, my friends, you have often admired in my character (and which I can only wish indeed were worthy of the opinion you entertain of it, and the appellation the world has conferred upon me), it consists wholly in this, that I follow nature as the surest guide, and resign myself with an implicit
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eepberries
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eepberries
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