to-kill-a-mockingbird-by-harper-lee-pdf-free-download (1)
“If you are, I’ll tell you right now: stop it. I’m too old to go chasing you off theRadley property. Besides, it’s dangerous. You might get shot. You know Mr.Nathan shoots at every shadow he sees, even shadows that leave size-four barefootprints. You were lucky not to be killed.”I hushed then and there. At the same time I marveled at Atticus. This was thefirst he had let us know he knew a lot more about something than we thought heknew. And it had happened years ago. No, only last summer—no, summerbefore last, when . . . time was playing tricks on me. I must remember to askJem.So many things had happened to us, Boo Radley was the least of our fears.Atticus said he didn’t see how anything else could happen, that things had a wayof settling down, and after enough time passed people would forget that TomRobinson’s existence was ever brought to their attention.Perhaps Atticus was right, but the events of the summer hung over us likesmoke in a closed room. The adults in Maycomb never discussed the case withJem and me; it seemed that they discussed it with their children, and theirattitude must have been that neither of us could help having Atticus for a parent,so their children must be nice to us in spite of him. The children would neverhave thought that up for themselves: had our classmates been left to their owndevices, Jem and I would have had several swift, satisfying fist-fights apiece andended the matter for good. As it was, we were compelled to hold our heads highand be, respectively, a gentleman and a lady. In a way, it was like the era of Mrs.Henry Lafayette Dubose, without all her yelling. There was one odd thing,though, that I never understood: in spite of Atticus’s shortcomings as a parent,people were content to re-elect him to the state legislature that year, as usual,without opposition. I came to the conclusion that people were just peculiar, Iwithdrew from them, and never thought about them until I was forced to.I was forced to one day in school. Once a week, we had a Current Eventsperiod. Each child was supposed to clip an item from a newspaper, absorb itscontents, and reveal them to the class. This practice allegedly overcame a varietyof evils: standing in front of his fellows encouraged good posture and gave achild poise; delivering a short talk made him word-conscious; learning hiscurrent event strengthened his memory; being singled out made him more thanever anxious to return to the Group.The idea was profound, but as usual, in Maycomb it didn’t work very well. Inthe first place, few rural children had access to newspapers, so the burden ofCurrent Events was borne by the town children, convincing the bus children
more deeply that the town children got all the attention anyway. The ruralchildren who could, usually brought clippings from what they called The GritPaper, a publication spurious in the eyes of Miss Gates, our teacher. Why shefrowned when a child recited from The Grit Paper I never knew, but in someway it was associated with liking fiddling, eating syrupy biscuits for lunch, beinga holy-roller, singing Sweetly Sings the Donkey and pronouncing it dunkey, allof which the state paid teachers to discourage.Even so, not many of the children knew what a Current Event was. LittleChuck Little, a hundred years old in his knowledge of cows and their habits, washalfway through an Uncle Natchell story when Miss Gates stopped him:“Charles, that is not a current event. That is an advertisement.”Cecil Jacobs knew what one was, though. When his turn came, he went to thefront of the room and began, “Old Hitler—”“Adolf Hitler, Cecil,” said Miss Gates. “One never begins with Old anybody.”“Yes ma’am,” he said. “Old Adolf Hitler has been prosecutin‘ the—”“Persecuting Cecil . . .”“Nome, Miss Gates, it says here—well anyway, old Adolf Hitler has beenafter the Jews and he’s puttin‘ ’em in prisons and he’s taking away all theirproperty and he won’t let any of ‘em out of the country and he’s washin’ all thefeeble-minded and—”“Washing the feeble-minded?”“Yes ma’am, Miss Gates, I reckon they don’t have sense enough to washthemselves, I don’t reckon an idiot could keep hisself clean. Well anyway,Hitler’s started a program to round up all the half-Jews too and he wants toregister ‘em in case they might wanta cause him any trouble and I think this is abad thing and that’s my current event.”“Very good, Cecil,” said Miss Gates. Puffing, Cecil returned to his seat.A hand went up in the back of the room. “How can he do that?”“Who do what?” asked Miss Gates patiently.“I mean how can Hitler just put a lot of folks in a pen like that, looks like thegovamint’d stop him,” said the owner of the hand.“Hitler is the government,” said Miss Gates, and seizing an opportunity tomake education dynamic, she went to the blackboard. She printedDEMOCRACY in large letters. “Democracy,” she said. “Does anybody have adefinition?”
- Page 185 and 186: 19Thomas Robinson reached around, r
- Page 187 and 188: Radley, who had not been out of the
- Page 189 and 190: on me.”“Jumped on you? Violentl
- Page 191 and 192: “Yes suh.”“What’d the nigge
- Page 193 and 194: “I says I was scared, suh.”“I
- Page 195 and 196: 20“Come on round here, son, I got
- Page 197 and 198: edged our way along the balcony rai
- Page 199 and 200: he swore out a warrant, no doubt si
- Page 201 and 202: 21She stopped shyly at the railing
- Page 203 and 204: “They moved around some when the
- Page 205 and 206: Atticus had stopped his tranquil jo
- Page 207 and 208: 22It was Jem’s turn to cry. His f
- Page 209 and 210: was, said she’da had the sheriff
- Page 211 and 212: “That’s something you’ll have
- Page 213 and 214: “What has happened?”“Nothing
- Page 215 and 216: world that makes men lose their hea
- Page 217 and 218: change his mind. “If we’d had t
- Page 219 and 220: enough of a problem to your father
- Page 221 and 222: of folks. Folks.”Jem turned aroun
- Page 223 and 224: . . who’da thought it . . . anybo
- Page 225 and 226: “I said to him, ‘Mr. Everett,
- Page 227 and 228: and the river. Aunt Alexandra had g
- Page 229 and 230: two good arms he’d have made it,
- Page 231 and 232: 25“Don’t do that, Scout. Set hi
- Page 233 and 234: foot hit the ground. “Like you’
- Page 235: 26School started, and so did our da
- Page 239 and 240: know the answer.“But it’s okay
- Page 241 and 242: 27Things did settle down, after a f
- Page 243 and 244: assessment of these events. “That
- Page 245 and 246: took off his shoes until the hounds
- Page 247 and 248: 28The weather was unusually warm fo
- Page 249 and 250: Most of the county, it seemed, was
- Page 251 and 252: butterbeans entering on cue. She wa
- Page 253 and 254: We slowed to a crawl. I asked Jem h
- Page 255 and 256: The man was walking heavily and uns
- Page 257 and 258: worry, though, he’ll be as good a
- Page 259 and 260: 29Aunt Alexandra got up and reached
- Page 261 and 262: wire. “Bob Ewell meant business,
- Page 263 and 264: 30“Mr. Arthur, honey,” said Att
- Page 265 and 266: floorboards it seemed that they gre
- Page 267 and 268: “Heck,” said Atticus abruptly,
- Page 269 and 270: 31When Boo Radley shuffled to his f
- Page 271 and 272: latest to Miss Rachel. Miss Maudie
- Page 273: He turned out the light and went in
more deeply that the town children got all the attention anyway. The rural
children who could, usually brought clippings from what they called The Grit
Paper, a publication spurious in the eyes of Miss Gates, our teacher. Why she
frowned when a child recited from The Grit Paper I never knew, but in some
way it was associated with liking fiddling, eating syrupy biscuits for lunch, being
a holy-roller, singing Sweetly Sings the Donkey and pronouncing it dunkey, all
of which the state paid teachers to discourage.
Even so, not many of the children knew what a Current Event was. Little
Chuck Little, a hundred years old in his knowledge of cows and their habits, was
halfway through an Uncle Natchell story when Miss Gates stopped him:
“Charles, that is not a current event. That is an advertisement.”
Cecil Jacobs knew what one was, though. When his turn came, he went to the
front of the room and began, “Old Hitler—”
“Adolf Hitler, Cecil,” said Miss Gates. “One never begins with Old anybody.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said. “Old Adolf Hitler has been prosecutin‘ the—”
“Persecuting Cecil . . .”
“Nome, Miss Gates, it says here—well anyway, old Adolf Hitler has been
after the Jews and he’s puttin‘ ’em in prisons and he’s taking away all their
property and he won’t let any of ‘em out of the country and he’s washin’ all the
feeble-minded and—”
“Washing the feeble-minded?”
“Yes ma’am, Miss Gates, I reckon they don’t have sense enough to wash
themselves, I don’t reckon an idiot could keep hisself clean. Well anyway,
Hitler’s started a program to round up all the half-Jews too and he wants to
register ‘em in case they might wanta cause him any trouble and I think this is a
bad thing and that’s my current event.”
“Very good, Cecil,” said Miss Gates. Puffing, Cecil returned to his seat.
A hand went up in the back of the room. “How can he do that?”
“Who do what?” asked Miss Gates patiently.
“I mean how can Hitler just put a lot of folks in a pen like that, looks like the
govamint’d stop him,” said the owner of the hand.
“Hitler is the government,” said Miss Gates, and seizing an opportunity to
make education dynamic, she went to the blackboard. She printed
DEMOCRACY in large letters. “Democracy,” she said. “Does anybody have a
definition?”
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