English CBSE Class 11 NCERT Snapshot Chapter 1 The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse Line by Line Explanation and Meaning of Difficult Words
THE SUMMER OF THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE HORSE
Author – William Saroyan
ONE day back there in the good old days when I was nine and the world was full of every imaginable kind of magnificence, and life was still a delightful and mysterious dream, my cousin Mourad, who was considered crazy by everybody who knew him except me, came to my house at four in the morning and woke me up tapping on the window of my room.
|Magnificence||Brilliance, Greatness, Majesty|
|Delightful||Lovely, Enjoyable, Wonderful|
|To tap||To knock|
This story is being narrated by Aram. At that time he was 9 years old. He lived in a country named Armenia.
Many years ago when I was 9 years old, the world was full of every brilliant thing one could imagine. Life was enjoyable like a strange dream. My cousin Mourad came to my house at four in the morning. He knocked at the window of my room to wake me up. Everybody considered Mourad a passionate or a mad boy. I was the only person who did not consider him a mad.
Aram, he said.
I jumped out of bed and looked out of the window.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
He called out my name – Aram. I quickly came out of my bed and looked out of the window. I could not believe what I saw.
It wasn’t morning yet, but it was summer and with daybreak not many minutes around the corner of the world it was light enough for me to know I wasn’t dreaming.
|Daybreak||Dawn, Beginning of day|
|Around the corner||About to start|
The day had not started because the Sun had not risen. But its shine had started spreading in the sky. It was summer season. The dawn was about to happen in couple of minutes. There was enough light outside to confirm that I was not dreaming.
My cousin Mourad was sitting on a beautiful white horse.
I stuck my head out of the window and rubbed my eyes.
Yes, he said in Armenian. It’s a horse. You’re not dreaming. Make it quick if you want to ride.
|Stuck my head out of window||Pulled my head out of window|
|Armenian||Language of Armenia|
|Make it quick||To do something quickly, To hurry up|
I saw through the window that my cousin Mourad was sitting on a beautiful white horse. I pulled my head out of the window and rubbed my eyes. Probably Aram could not believe what he saw. It was an unexpected surprise for him. Mourad said to Aram in Armenian language that it was a horse and he was not seeing a dream. Mourad asked Aram to come out quickly if he wanted to ride on the horse.
I knew my cousin Mourad enjoyed being alive more than anybody else who had ever fallen into the world by mistake, but this was more than even I could believe.
I was aware that my cousin Mourad always enjoyed his life. His belief for enjoying life was stronger than that of anybody else in this world. But Mourad enjoying a horse ride was beyond my imagination.
In the first place, my earliest memories had been memories of horses and my first longings had been longings to ride.
|In the first place||From the beginning, Most important|
|Earliest memories||Old memories|
|First longings||Strongest desire, First desire|
Most importantly, even in my old dreams I had dreamt about horses. It was my strongest desire to ride a horse.
This was the wonderful part.
In the second place, we were poor.
This was the part that wouldn’t permit me to believe what I saw.
It was really wonderful to have the desire of riding a horse. The second part of my life was that we were poor. This second part did not allow me to believe what I saw. Aram wants to say that because they were poor it was beyond his imagination that they could every ride a horse.
We were poor. We had no money. Our whole tribe was poverty-stricken. Every branch of the Garoghlanian family was living in the most amazing and comical poverty in the world.
|Poverty stricken||Affected due to poverty|
|Garoghlanian||A tribe in Armenia|
We were poor and without any money. Every member of our society was affected by poverty. Everybody in Garoghlanian tribe was poor. We all were living with great degree of poverty.
Nobody could understand where we ever got money enough to keep us with food in our bellies, not even the old men of the family. Most important of all, though, we were famous for our honesty.
We never understood how we earned enough money. Even the old people of our families did not know this. But money was required to buy things to keep our stomach full. Author wants to say that means of earning were limited and not certain. Thus their income was also very low. But the most important aspect about us was that we were always honest. We were famous for being honest.
We had been famous for our honesty for something like eleven centuries, even when we had been the wealthiest family in what we liked to think was the world.
Since 1100 years we were famous for being honest. We were honest even when we were considered the richest family among the families living around us. We considered this small group of the families as the complete world for us.
We were proud first, honest next, and after that we believed in right and wrong. None of us would take advantage of anybody in the world, let alone steal.
We were proud of our culture. Then we were proud of being honest. It was only after these two aspects, we considered what was right or wrong. Nobody among us would ever take advantage of any other person in the world. We could never think of stealing anything.
Consequently, even though I could see the horse, so magnificent; even though I could smell it, so lovely; even though I could hear it breathing, so exciting; I couldn’t believe the horse had anything to do with my cousin Mourad or with me or with any of the other members of our family, asleep or awake, because I knew my cousin Mourad couldn’t have bought the horse, and if he couldn’t have bought it he must have stolen it, and I refused to believe he had stolen it.
|Consequently||As a result of , Therefore|
We were poor. Therefore I could not believe that the horse belonged to my cousin Mourad or to any other member of my family. Even in our dreams we could not have bought a horse. But I could see the horse, it was big. I could smell the horse, the smell was so lovely. I could hear breath of the horse, the sound was so exciting.
I was aware that my cousin Mourad could not have bought the horse. If he did not buy the horse, he had stolen it. I refused to believe this thought because we were honest.
No member of the Garoghlanian family could be a thief.
I stared first at my cousin and then at the horse. There was a pious stillness and humour in each of them which on the one hand delighted me and on the other frightened me.
|Stared||Gazed, Looked contsantly|
|Stillness||Quiet, No movement|
I believed that nobody from Garoghlanian tribe can be a thief. I first looked at my cousin and then at the horse. There was no movement which looked holy. It was also humouours because the horse was quiet and not moving. I was happy to see the horse and I was afraid also.
Mourad, I said, where did you steal this horse?
Leap out of the window, he said, if you want to ride.
It was true, then. He had stolen the horse. There was no question about it. He had come to invite me to ride or not, as I chose.
I asked Mourad from where did he steal the horse. He replied that if I wanted to ride the horse, I should jump out of the window. Now I understood that he had stolen the horse. There was no doubt about it. He had come to invite me to ride on the horse. It was my choice to accept the invitation or to reject it.
Well, it seemed to me stealing a horse for a ride was not the same thing as stealing something else, such as money. For all I knew, maybe it wasn’t stealing at all. If you were crazy about horses the way my cousin Mourad and I were, it wasn’t stealing. It wouldn’t become stealing until we offered to sell the horse, which of course, I knew we would never do.
|Seemed||Appeared, Formed an opinion|
I had an opinion that stealing a horse for taking a ride cannot be called stealing of money. I realised that probably it was not at all a theft. It cannot be called a theft if somebody is passionate about riding a horse. And we were passionate about it. It will be a theft only if we sell the horse. Certainly we were not going to sell the horse.
Aram is trying to justify to himself about action of Mourad. He knew it that the horse did not belong to them.
Let me put on some clothes, I said.
All right, he said, but hurry.
I leaped into my clothes.
I jumped down to the yard from the window and leaped up onto the horse behind my cousin Mourad.
I told Mourad to allow me to change my clothes. He asked me to hurry up. I quickly changed my clothes. I jumped down from the window to the courtyard. Then I jumped up to sit on the horse behind Mourad.
That year we lived at the edge of town, on Walnut Avenue. Behind our house was the country: vineyards, orchards, irrigation ditches, and country roads. In less than three minutes we were on Olive Avenue, and then the horse began to trot.
|Country||Rural area, Area without houses|
|Vineyard||Plantation area of creepers of grapes|
|Orchards||Plantation area of plants of fruits|
|Country roads||Roads of rural area|
During that year we were living at the edge of a village. This part of the village was called Walnut Avenue. Behind our house there was rural area without any house. It had vineyards, orchards, canal and rural roads. In less than three minutes we reached Olive Avenue. Now the horse started running.
The air was new and lovely to breathe. The feel of the horse running was wonderful. My cousin Mourad who was considered one of the craziest members of our family began to sing. I mean, he began to roar.
|Air was new||Air was fresh|
The air was fresh. I felt good to breathe fresh air. The experience of riding on a running horse was very good. My cousin was considered as the most passionate member of our family. He started singing. His voice was so bad that his singing was like a roar.
Every family has a crazy streak in it somewhere, and my cousin Mourad was considered the natural descendant of the crazy streak in our tribe.
|Crazy streak||Passionate character|
|Descendant||Posterity, Heir, Representative|
Every family has at-least one passionate character in the family. My cousin Mourad was a true representative of a passionate person.
Before him was our uncle Khosrove, an enormous man with a powerful head of black hair and the largest moustache in the San Joaquin Valley, a man so furious in temper, so irritable, so impatient that he stopped anyone from talking by roaring, It is no harm; pay no attention to it.
|Enormous||Huge, Very big|
|Irritable||One who get angry easily|
Before Mourad, our uncle Khosrove was the craziest person in our family. He was a person of huge built. He had a big head and black hair. His moustache was the largest in San Joaquin Valley. His behaviour was very bad. He would easily become angry. He was very impatient. He used to stop everyone from talking by saying ‘It is no harm; pay no attention to it’. Which means it is a small aspect so no one should bother about it.
That was all, no matter what anybody happened to be talking about. Once it was his own son Arak running eight blocks to the barber’s shop where his father was having his moustache trimmed to tell him their house was on fire.
Whatever anybody told him, Khosrove would give the same reply. Once he was getting his moustache trimmed from a barber. The shop was eight building away from his own house. His son Arak came running to the shop to tell him that their house had caught fire.
This man Khosrove sat up in the chair and roared, It is no harm; pay no attention to it. The barber said, But the boy says your house is on fire. So Khosrove roared, Enough, it is no harm, I say.
Khosrove sat up in the chair and shouted at his son ‘It is no harm; pay no attention to it’. The barber reminded Khosrove that the boy was telling that his own house had caught fire. He again shouted and told that it was not a problem.
My cousin Mourad was considered the natural descendant of this man, although Mourad’s father was Zorab, who was practical and nothing else. That’s how it was in our tribe.
My cousin Mourad was regarded as a natural representative of this man Khosrove. Though Mourad’s father Zorab was a practical person. Such was the speciality of our tribe.
A man could be the father of his son’s flesh, but that did not mean that he was also the father of his spirit. The distribution of the various kinds of spirit of our tribe had been from the beginning capricious and vagrant.
|Vagrant||Person who wanders, Moving,|
A person is certainly father of his son. But this does not mean that both will have similar feelings and intellect. A son can be different from his father. Every person of our community had different unpredictable temperament. And the temperament was never a constant even in a family, it changed a lot.
We rode and my cousin Mourad sang. For all anybody knew we were still in the old country where, at least according to some of our neighbours, we belonged. We let the horse run as long as it felt like running.
We were riding the horse and my cousin Mourad was singing. For everyone, who knew us, we were still in our village. At least our neighbours believed so. Aram wants to say that nobody in his neighbourhood had seen them riding the horse. They allowed the horse to run as long as it wanted to run.
At last my cousin Mourad said, Get down. I want to ride alone.
Will you let me ride alone? I asked.
That is up to the horse, my cousin said. Get down.
The horse will let me ride, I said.
Mourad asked me to get down from the horse because he want to ride alone. I asked him if he will allow me to ride alone. Mourad replied that horse would decide that. I said that horse would surly allow me to ride alone.
We shall see, he said. Don’t forget that I have a way with a horse.
Well, I said, any way you have with a horse, I have also.
For the sake of your safety, he said, let us hope so. Get down.
All right, I said, but remember you’ve got to let me try to ride alone.
|Have a way with a horse||To know how to ride a horse|
Mourad said we shall think about it later. He told me to remember that he knew how to ride a horse. I replied that I also knew to ride a horse. Mourad told me that for my own safety I should be sure about it. He again asked me to get down. I once again asked him to allow me to ride the horse alone.
I got down and my cousin Mourad kicked his heels into the horse and shouted, Vazire, run. The horse stood on its hind legs, snorted, and burst into a fury of speed that was the loveliest thing I had ever seen.
|Vazire||It is name of the horse|
|Hind legs||Rear legs, Back legs|
|Snorted||Produce a sound through nose|
|Fury of speed||High speed|
I got down from the horse. Mourad kicked horse with his heel and shouted – ‘Vazirre run’. For a moment the horse stood on its rear legs. It produced a sound through its nose. And suddenly started running at high speed. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
My cousin Mourad raced the horse across a field of dry grass to an irrigation ditch, crossed the ditch on the horse, and five minutes later returned, dripping wet.
Mourad ran his horse through the field that had dry grass. Then he ran it into the irrigation canal. After five minutes he returned. He was completely wet because of water of irrigation canal.
The sun was coming up.
Now it’s my turn to ride, I said.
My cousin Mourad got off the horse.
Ride, he said.
|Got off||Got down|
The Sun was now rising. I told that now it was my turn to ride the horse. Mourad got down from the horse and allowed me to ride alone.
I leaped to the back of the horse and for a moment knew the most awful fear imaginable. The horse did not move.
I jumped on the back of the horse. For a moment I felt very afraid beyond my imagination. The horse did not move at all.
Kick into his muscles, my cousin Mourad said. What are you waiting for? We’ve got to take him back before everybody in the world is up and about.
|Up and about||Awake and out of house|
Mourad asked me to kick the horse. He asked me why I was waiting. We have to take the horse back before people get up and come out of their houses. He did not want that people should see us with the horse.
I kicked into the muscles of the horse. Once again it reared and snorted. Then it began to run. I didn’t know what to do.
I kicked my heel into the body of the horse. Once again the horse rose on its rear legs and snorted. Then it started running. I did not know what to do next.
Instead of running across the field to the irrigation ditch the horse ran down the road to the vineyard of Dikran Halabian where it began to leap over vines. The horse leaped over seven vines before I fell. Then it continued running.
The horse did not run towards the irrigation canal. But it ran towards the vineyard of Dikran Halabian. It started jumping over the vines. The horse jumped over seven vines. Then I fell down. The horse continued to run.
My cousin Mourad came running down the road.
I’m not worried about you, he shouted. We’ve got to get that horse. You go this way and I’ll go this way. If you come upon him, be kindly. I’ll be near.
|Come upon||Find by chance|
Mourad came towards me running. He shouted that he was not worried about me. We need to catch the horse. He asked me to go the one way. He went to other way. He advised me if I find the horse I should be kind to it. He said that he will be nearby only.
I continued down the road and my cousin, Mourad went across the field toward the irrigation ditch.
It took him half an hour to find the horse and bring him back.
I continued to walk along the road. Mourad crossed the field to walk towards the irrigation canal. In about half an hour he found the horse and brought it back.
All right, he said, jump on. The whole world is awake now.
What will we do? I said.
Well, he said, we’ll either take him back or hide him until tomorrow morning.
He asked me to jump on the horse. Obviously he was also sitting on the horse. He told that now everybody in the village was awake. I asked him what we should do now. He replied that either we would take it back or hide somewhere till tomorrow morning.
He didn’t sound worried and I knew he’d hide him and not take him back. Not for a while, at any rate.
Where will we hide him? I said.
I know a place, he said.
How long ago did you steal this horse? I said.
|For a while||For a short time|
|At any rate||Certainly|
He did not look worried. I was sure that he would certainly not take the horse back to village even for a short time. He would hide it. He told me that he knew about a place to hide the horse. I asked him since how much time he had stolen the horse.
It suddenly dawned on me that he had been taking these early morning rides for some time and had come for me this morning only because he knew how much I longed to ride.
|Suddenly dawned on me||I suddenly understood|
|Longed||Had a strong desire|
I suddenly understood that he had been taking early morning rides on horse for some time. He had come to me this morning only. He knew that I had a strong desire to ride a horse.
Who said anything about stealing a horse? he said.
Anyhow, I said, how long ago did you begin riding every morning?
Not until this morning, he said.
Are you telling the truth? I said.
Mourad asked who had talked about stealing the horse. I asked since when he had been riding the horse every morning. He replied that it started from this morning. I asked if he was telling the truth.
Of course not, he said, but if we are found out, that’s what you’re to say. I don’t want both of us to be liars. All you know is that we started riding this morning.
All right, I said.
Mourad confirmed that he was not telling the truth. But if we are caught, we need to tell that we started riding from this morning only. None of us should be proved a liar. Please remember that we started riding from this morning. I agreed.
He walked the horse quietly to the barn of a deserted vineyard which at one time had been the pride of a farmer named Fetvajian. There were some oats and dry alfalfa in the barn.
We began walking home.
|Barn||A storage building for grains|
|Deserted vineyard||Empty vineyard|
Mourad quietly took the horse to the storage yard of an empty vineyard. This belonged to a person by the name of Fetvajian. Once upon a time he took pride in owning this vineyard. There were some oats and alfalfa in the barn. After putting the horse in the barn we started walking to our home.
It wasn’t easy, he said, to get the horse to behave so nicely. At first it wanted to run wild, but, as I’ve told you, I have a way with a horse. I can get it to want to do anything I want it to do. Horses understand me.
Mourad informed me that it was difficult to make the horse behave so nicely. Initially it wanted to behave wildly. But I know to ride a horse. So I can make it do whatever I want to. I have good understanding with horses.
How do you do it? I said.
I have an understanding with a horse, he said.
Yes, but what sort of an understanding? I said.
A simple and honest one, he said.
I asked him how he could do it. He replied that he has an understanding with a horse. I asked him what that understanding was. He replied that it was a simple and honest understanding.
Well, I said, I wish I knew how to reach an understanding like that with a horse.
You’re still a small boy, he said. When you get to be thirteen you’ll know how to do it.
I went home and ate a hearty breakfast.
I replied that I also wanted to have such a good understanding with a horse. Mourad replied that still I was a small boy. When I become thirteen year old, I will know how to do it. I reached my home. I ate a lot in my breakfast.
That afternoon my uncle Khosrove came to our house for coffee and cigarettes. He sat in the parlour, sipping and smoking and remembering the old country.
In the afternoon of that day, my uncle Khosrove came to our home. He wanted to have coffee and cigarettes. He sat in the sitting room of our house. He was taking coffee, smoking cigarettes and recalling the rural areas he had lived in.
Then another visitor arrived, a farmer named John Byro, an Assyrian who, out of loneliness, had learned to speak Armenian.
|Assyrian||A resident of Assyria|
One more guest came to our house. He was a farmer. His name was John Byro. He was from Assyria country. He used to live alone in Armenia. To avoid his loneliness he learned to speak Armenian language.
My mother brought the lonely visitor coffee and tobacco and he rolled a cigarette and sipped and smoked, and then at last, sighing sadly, he said, My white horse which was stolen last month is still gone — I cannot understand it.
My mother brought coffee and tobacco for that lonely guest. He made a cigarette from the tobacco. He took coffee and smoked cigarette. In a very sad voice he said that his white horse was stolen one month ago. He has not yet found it. He is not able to understand about the theft.
My uncle Khosrove became very irritated and shouted, It’s no harm. What is the loss of a horse? Haven’t we all lost the homeland? What is this crying over a horse?
My uncle Khosrove became very angry and shouted that it was no harm. Loss of a horse is nothing. We all have moved away from our home country. You should not feel sad for the loss of a horse.
That may be all right for you, a city dweller, to say, John Byro said, but what of my surrey? What good is a surrey without a horse?
John Byro replied that for a resident of city loss of horse does not mean anything. But I have a carriage. A carriage is useless without a horse.
Pay no attention to it, my uncle Khosrove roared.
I walked ten miles to get here, John Byro said.
You have legs, my uncle Khosrove shouted.
My left leg pains me, the farmer said.
Khosrove shouted to pay no attention to the theft. John Byro said that he had walked ten miles to come to the city. Khosrove replied in a loud voice that John Byro had legs so he should walk. The farmer said that he had pain in his left leg.
Pay no attention to it, my uncle Khosrove roared.
That horse cost me sixty dollars, the farmer said.
I spit on money, my uncle Khosrove said.
Khosrove shouted to pay no attention to the pain. The farmer said that he had paid sixty dollars to buy that horse. Khosrove said that he did not give any importance to the money.
He got up and stalked out of the house, slamming the screen door.
My mother explained.
He has a gentle heart, she said. It is simply that he is homesick and such a large man.
|Has a gentle heart||Is a kind person|
John Byro got up and angrily walked out of the house. He closed the door with a noise. My mother explained to my uncle that the farmer was a kind person. He is quite old and still lonely. So he is feeling bad about loss of horse.
The farmer went away and I ran over to my cousin Mourad’s house.
He was sitting under a peach tree, trying to repair the hurt wing of a young robin which could not fly. He was talking to the bird.
The farmer went from our house. I ran to the house of Mourad. He was sitting under a peach tree. He was trying to repair the damaged wing of a robin bird. It was not able to fly. While repairing the wing, he was talking to the bird.
What is it? he said.
The farmer, John Byro, I said. He visited our house. He wants his horse. You’ve had it a month. I want you to promise not to take it back until I learn to ride.
Mourad asked me what the matter was. I said that John Byro the farmer had visited our house. He is searching for his horse. You have the horse with you for a month. Please promise that you will return the horse only after I have learnt riding.
It will take you a year to learn to ride, my cousin Mourad said.
We could keep the horse a year, I said.
My cousin Mourad leaped to his feet.
Mourad told me that I would take one year to learn riding. I replied that we should return the horse after one year. Mourad jumped up and stood up.
What? he roared. Are you inviting a member of the Garoghlanian family to steal? The horse must go back to its true owner.
When? I said.
In six months at the latest, he said.
He was surprised by my reply and shouted at me. He said that I was advising a member of Garoghlanian family to steal. He further told that the horse must be returned to its owner. I asked him when this should be done. He replied that at least after six months we should return the horse.
He threw the bird into the air. The bird tried hard, almost fell twice, but at last flew away, high and straight.
Mourad threw the bird into the air. The bird tried a lot to fly. Twice it almost fell on the ground. But finally it flew away straight and high in the sky.
Early every morning for two weeks my cousin Mourad and I took the horse out of the barn of the deserted vineyard where we were hiding it and rode it, and every morning the horse, when it was my turn to ride alone, leaped over grape vines and small trees and threw me and ran away.
For next two weeks, every morning we took out the horse from the store of that empty vineyard. We rode the horse. Every morning I tried to ride it alone. On every such occasion, it jumped over grape vines, small trees. It threw me away from its back and ran away.
Nevertheless, I hoped in time to learn to ride the way my cousin Mourad rode.
One morning on the way to Fetvajian’s deserted vineyard we ran into the farmer John Byro who was on his way to town.
|Nevertheless||In spite of|
|Ran into||Met without any plan|
In spite of horse throwing me off again and again, I was hopeful of learning to ride the horse. I wanted to be as expert as my cousin Mourad was. One morning while we were going to the empty vineyard of Fetvajian we met the farmer John Byro. He was going to the town.
Let me do the talking, my cousin Mourad said. I have a way with farmers.
Good morning, John Byro, my cousin Mourad said to the farmer.
The farmer studied the horse eagerly.
Good morning, son of my friends, he said. What is the name of your horse?
Mourad said that he will talk to Fetvajian. Because he knows how to talk to farmers. Mourad said good morning to John Byro. The farmer carefully looked at the horse. He addresses Mourad as ‘son of my friend’. He asked name of the horse.
My Heart, my cousin Mourad said in Armenian.
A lovely name, John Byro said, for a lovely horse. I could swear it is the horse that was stolen from me many weeks ago. May I look into his mouth?
|Swear||To be sure, Affirm, Insist|
Mourad replied that name of the horse is ‘My Heart’. The farmer said he was sure that this horse is same as his horse. His horse was stolen about one month back. He requested permission to look into the mouth of the horse.
Of course, Mourad said.
The farmer looked into the mouth of the horse.
Tooth for tooth, he said. I would swear it is my horse if I didn’t know your parents. The fame of your family for honesty is well known to me.
Mourad answered that he could surly do so. The farmer looked into the mouth of the horse. He said that every tooth of this horse is similar to tooth of his horse. I am sure that it is my horse. But I know your parents. They are famous for their honesty.
Therefore he did not say that the boys had stolen his horse.
Yet the horse is the twin of my horse. A suspicious man would believe his eyes instead of his heart. Good day, my young friends.
Good day, John Byro, my cousin Mourad said.
|Twin||Exact copy, One of two born together|
But the horse is an exact copy of my horse. A person having a doubt will believe his eyes than follow his heart. They said good day to each other and we went away.
Early the following morning we took the horse to John Byro’s vineyard and put it in the barn. The dogs followed us around without making a sound.
Next early morning we took the horse to the vineyard of John Byro. We put the horse in the barn. The dogs were following us. But they were silent.
The dogs, I whispered to my cousin Mourad. I thought they would bark.
They would at somebody else, he said. I have a way with dogs.
My cousin Mourad put his arms around the horse, pressed his nose into the horse’s nose, patted it, and then we went away.
In a low voice I said to Mourad that dogs may bark. Mourad told me that he knew how to handle dogs. Mourad put his arms around the horse. Then he presses his face against the face of the horse. Their nose were close to each other. He patted the horse and we walked away.
That afternoon John Byro came to our house in his surrey and showed my mother the horse that had been stolen and returned.
In the afternoon of that day John Byro came to our house. He was driving his carriage. He told my mother that his stolen horse had been returned.
I do not know what to think, he said. The horse is stronger than ever. Better-tempered, too. I thank God.
John Byro said that he was not able to understand anything about the theft. The horse is stronger than it was before. Its behaviour has also become better. I am so thankful to God.
My uncle Khosrove, who was in the parlour, became irritated and shouted, Quiet, man, quiet. Your horse has been returned. Pay no attention to it.
My uncle Khosrove was in the sitting area of our house. He became angry and shouted at the farmer. He asked the farmer to keep quiet. Your horse has been returned. Pay no attention to it.