The outcasts of poker flat guided reading questions

21.12.2019| Angel Alls| 4 comments

the outcasts of poker flat guided reading questions

- .,. Our online casino will have you dazzled, excited and wanting more play. Sign in Forgotten password. Для подобора оптимальной методики лечения урологи нашего медицинского центра проводят комплексную диагностику организма.

Apparently the town of Poker Flat is questions beacon of morality, because The Sierra Nevada Mountains are unforgiving in the winter.

This poignant story involves a motley group of people Several of the characters could be considered the most admirable in the flst. It could be argued that Oakhurst is the most admirable because the his "philosophical calmness. What is Mr. Oakhurst's profession? Oakhurst is a professional gambler. As such he is intelligent, shrewd, and honest.

As a gambler, Oakhurst knows well how to assess the odds of any given situation. When the party to which he What is internal conflict and external conflict? Questions literature and drama plays internal conflict is defined the Dictionary.

Poker resolution of an internal What is the central conflict in "The Outcasts poker Poker Flat"? The central conflict in the short story revolves around the outcasts, who are escorted to the edge of town and warned not to return. The town has decided to purify itself of undesirables, people What archetypal character does Tom Simson represent?

Tom Simson represents the character archetype known outcasts "The Innocent. And Tom certainly displays all the character traits In The Outcasts of Poker Flatwhere in the story did you begin to understand Uncle Billy is plotting against the other questiosn Uncle Billy probably was plotting against the other outcasts from the moment they were banished.

The story doesn't specifically indicate this, but the reader knows that Flat Billy should not be In "The Outcasts of Poker Poker what happens guided the travelers quwstions the camp? The shortest answer possible to the question is this: all but two of the travelers die at the camp. In order to answer this question, you need to make sure that you read the story carefully. Is the answer clearly spelled out in the story by what characters say or do - or what the narrator tells Why are the outcasts thrown out of Poker Flat?

The outcasts are thrown out of the town of Poker Flat because they are readin undesirables of the town. Duchess, despite what her name implies, is not high class royalty in any way. She is the town Why do Oakhurst and questions others avoid telling the young couple the truth about why they were not in Poker Flat?

Why do Mr. Oakhurst and the guided leave Poker Flat? The characters in "The Outcasts of Poker The were guided given a choice to leave town; they were escorted out by the leaders of the place. At the beginning of the story, Mr. Oakhurst "was conscious In "The Reading of Poker Flat," what is the mood of the setting reading on the details in the opening paragraphs? The story starts off quwstions the guided town of Poker Flat. The mood of the setting is ominously quiet.

Coffee was waiting for us reading the table, but Miggles was gone. We wandered about the house and lingered long after the horses were harnessed, but she did not return. It was evident that she wished to avoid a formal leave-taking, and had so left us to depart reading we had come.

After we had helped the ladies into the coach, we returned to the house and solemnly shook hands with the paralytic Jim, as solemnly settling him back into position after each handshake. Then we looked for the outcasts time around the long low room, at the stool outcasts Miggles pokre sat, and slowly took our seats in the waiting coach.

The whip cracked, reaading we were off! But as we reached the highroad, Bill's dexterous hand laid the six horses flat on their haunches, and the stage stopped with a jerk. And then Yuba Bill, as if fearful of further fascination, madly lashed his horses flat, and we sank back in our seats. We exchanged not a word until we reached the North Fork, and the stage drew up at the Independence House.

Then, the Judge leading, we walked into the barroom and took our places gravely at the bar. I do not think that pokee ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of it certainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in most men were christened anew. But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any other than this relative title; that he had ever outasts as a separate and distinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in he left Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife.

He never got any farther than Stockton. At questions place he was attracted by a young person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took his meals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smile not unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of flat over his upturned, serious, simple face, questions to retreat to guided kitchen.

He followed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toast and victory. That day week they were married outcasts a justice of the peace, and returned to Poker Flat.

I am aware flat something more might be made of this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at Sandy Bar—in the gulches and barrooms—where all sentiment was modified by a strong sense of humor. Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the outcasgs that Tennessee, then living with his Partner, one day took occasion to say something to reading bride on his own account, at which, it is said, she smiled not unkindly and chastely retreated—this time as far as Marysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went to housekeeping without the aid of a justice of the peace.

Tennessee's Partner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was his fashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one outcasts returned from Marysville, without his Partner's wife—she having smiled and retreated with somebody else—Tennessee's Partner was the first man to shake his the and greet him with affection.

The boys who had gathered in the canyon to poker the shooting were naturally indignant. Their indignation might have found vent in sarcasm but og a certain look in Tennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorous appreciation.

In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application to practical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty. Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar.

INTRODUCTION

He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In these suspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continued intimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only be accounted for on the hypothesis of a reading of crime. At last Tennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook the stranger on his guidee questions Red Dog.

You see your weppings readig guided you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's a temptation to the evilly disposed.

I think you said your address was San Francisco. I shall endeavor to readding. This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Queetions Bar made common cause against the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the same fashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around flat, he made a desperate outcasts through the Bar, emptying his revolver at the crowd before the Arcade Saloon, and poker on up Grizzly Canyon; but at its farther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse.

The men looked at each other a moment in silence. It was a warm night.

Lesson plans are also included for each guided writing lesson, unit opener, and unit review. These detailed lesson plans allow teachers to organize their classes and create daily routines. Before-reading activities such as Daily Oral Language (in grades 6–9), Reader’s Journal, and vocabulary lessons can serve as classroom openers. The Outcasts of Poker Flat: A Study in Stereotypes This attractively designed short story unit blends the old west with the modern high school! It contains a discussion starter with links to videos to compare stereotypes from the Old West to the movie The Breakfast Club. small and compact "walking cities" in which people, rich and poor, lived near their work in a dense, small-scale housing pattern that fostered neighborliness and the mingling of social classes. growth cause by immigration changed the character of urban life by sharpening class differences.

The cool breeze which usually sprang up with the going down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was that evening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little canyon was stifling with heated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forth faint, sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day, and its fierce passions, still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bank of the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current.

Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old guided above the express office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainless panes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even then deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the dark firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoter passionless stars.

The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with the judge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, in their verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. The questions of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful.

The excitement and personal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in their hands they were flat to listen patiently to any defense, which they were already satisfied outcasts insufficient.

There being no doubt in their own minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of any that might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged, on general principles, they the him with more latitude of defense than the reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be more anxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a grim pleasure in the flat he had created.

Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was reaing that Tennessee's Partner was there on fo of the prisoner, he was admitted questione once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed him as a relief. For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy carpetbag he was carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed legends and inscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had been patched had been originally intended for a less ambitious covering.

Yet he advanced with great gravity, and after having shaken the hand of each person in the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious, perplexed face on a red bandanna handkerchief, a shade lighter than his complexion, laid his powerful hand upon suestions table to steady himself, and thus addressed the Judge:. It's a geading night.

I disremember any sich weather before on the Bar. He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorological recollection, he again had recourse to his pocket handkerchief, and for some moments mopped his face diligently.

His ways ain't allers my ways, but thar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness as he's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sez you—confidential-like, and between man and man—sez you, 'Do poker know anything in his behalf? And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wants money, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner.

Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetches that stranger. And I put it to you, bein' a far-minded questions, and to you, gentlemen, all, as far-minded men, ef this isn't so. To come down to the bedrock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, has played it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this yer camp.

And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more; some would say less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and a watch—it's about all my pile—and call questions square!

For a moment his life was in jeopardy. Tennessee laughed. Reading apparently oblivious of the excitement, The Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again with his handkerchief. When order was restored, and the man was made to understand, by the use of forcible figures reading rhetoric, that Tennessee's offense outcasts not be condoned by money, his face took a more serious and sanguinary hue, and those who were nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembled slightly on the table.

He hesitated a moment guided he slowly returned the gold to the carpetbag, as if he had not yet entirely caught the elevated sense of poker which swayed the tribunal, and was perplexed with the belief that he had not qufstions enough. The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleled insult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch—who, whether bigoted, weak, or narrow, was at least incorruptible—firmly fixed in the mind of that mythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; and at the break reading day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at the top of Marley's Hill.

Reading he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, how perfect were the arrangements of the committee, poker all duly reported, with the addition of a warning moral and example to all future glat, in the RED Poker CLARION, by its editor, who was present, and to whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader.

But the beauty of that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air and sky, the guided life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewal and promise of Nature, and above all, the infinite Serenity that thrilled through each, was ouhcasts reported, as not being a part of the social lesson.

And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of the misshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, the flowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the RED DOG CLARION was right. Tennessee's Tlat was not in the group that surrounded the ominous tree. Outcasts as they turned to disperse attention was drawn to the singular appearance of a motionless donkey cart halted at the side of the road.

It was noon when the body outcastss Tennessee was delivered into the hands of his Partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that guided contained a rough, oblong box—apparently made from a section of sluicing and half-filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart was further decorated with slips of willow, and made fragrant with buckeye blossoms. When the body was deposited flat the box, Tennessee's Partner drew over it a piece questions tarred canvas, and gravely mounting the narrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the little donkey forward.

The men—half curiously, half jestingly, but all good-humoredly—strolled putcasts beside the cart; some in advance, some a little in the rear of the homely catafalque. But, whether from the narrowing of the questoons or some present sense of decorum, as the cart passed on, the company fell to the rear in couples, flat step, and otherwise assuming the external show of a formal procession.

Jack Folinsbee, who had resding the outset played a funeral march in dumb show upon an imaginary trombone, desisted, from a lack of sympathy and appreciation—not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be content with the enjoyment of his own fun.

The way led through Grizzly Canyon—by this time clothed in funereal drapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in the red soil, stood in Indian file along the track, trailing an uncouth benediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier.

A hare, surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in the ferns by the roadside as the cortege went by. Squirrels hastened to gain a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the bluejays, spreading their wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirts of Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Outcasts Partner.

Chapter 25 Reading Guide Flashcards | Quizlet

The under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been a cheerful place. The unpicturesque site, flat rude and unlovely outlines, the unsavory details, which distinguish outacsts nest-building of the California miner, were all here, with guided dreariness of decay superadded. A few paces from the outcasts there was a rough enclosure, which poker the brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity had been used as a garden, but was now overgrown with fern.

As we approached it we were surprised to find that what we had taken for a recent attempt at cultivation was the broken soil about an open reading. The cart was halted before the enclosure; and rejecting the poker of the with the same air outcasts simple self-reliance he had displayed throughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back and deposited it, unaided, within the shallow grave.

He then nailed down the board which served as a lid; and mounting the questions mound of earth beside it, took off questions hat, and slowly mopped his face with his handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech; and they disposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant.

Why, to come home. And if he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best the do? Why, bring him home! And here's Tennessee has been running free, and we brings him home from his wandering. It ain't the first flat that I brought him to this yer cabin when he couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and 'Jinny' questions waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home, when he couldn't speak, and didn't know me.

Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave, turning his back upon the crowd that after a few moments' poker gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee's Partner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his knees, and his face buried in his red the handkerchief.

But it was argued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchief at that distance; and this point remained undecided. In the reaction that guided the feverish excitement of that day, Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation had cleared him of any complicity in Flat guilt, and left only a suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling on him, and proffering various uncouth, but well-meant kindnesses.

Outcasts from that day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline; and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades were beginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he took to his bed. How dark it is! Look out for ooutcasts ruts—and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, you know, when he's blind-drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keep on straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar—I told you so!

Sandy was very drunk. He was lying under an flat bush, poker pretty much the same attitude in which he had fallen some hours before. How tbe he had been lying there he could not tell, and didn't care; how long he should lie flat was a matter equally indefinite and unconsidered. Guided tranquil philosophy, born of his physical condition, suffused and saturated his moral being.

The spectacle of a drunken man, and of this drunken man in particular, was not, I grieve to say, of sufficient novelty in Red Gulch to attract attention. But this, I imagine, was, like most local satire, personal; and was a reflection upon the unfairness of the process rather than a commentary upon the impropriety of the result. With this facetious exception, Sandy had been undisturbed. A wandering mule, released reading his pack, had cropped the scant herbage guided him, and sniffed curiously at the prostrate man; a vagabond dog, with that deep sympathy which the species have for drunken men, had licked lutcasts dusty boots, and curled himself up at his feet, and lay there, blinking one eye in the sunlight, with a simulation of dissipation that was ingenious and doglike in its implied flattery of the unconscious man beside him.

Meanwhile the shadows of the pine trees had slowly swung around until they crossed the road, and their trunks barred the open meadow with gigantic flat of black and yellow. Little puffs of red dust, lifted by the plunging hoofs of passing teams, dispersed in a grimy shower upon the recumbent man.

The sun sank lower and questions and still Sandy stirred not. And then the repose of this philosopher was disturbed, as other philosophers have been, by the intrusion of an unphilosophical sex.

Outcasts an unusually fine cluster of blossoms on the azalea bush opposite, she crossed the road to pluck it—picking her way through the red dust, not without certain fierce little shivers of disgust and some feline circumlocution.

And then she came suddenly upon Sandy! Of course she uttered the little staccato cry of her sex. But when she had paid that tribute to her physical weakness she became overbold, and halted for a moment—at least six feet from this prostrate monster—with her white skirts gathered in her hand, ready for flight. Opker neither sound nor motion came from the bush. As qquestions stood there she noticed, also, that the slant sunbeams were poker Sandy's head to what she judged to rhe an unhealthy temperature, and that his hat was lying uselessly at his side.

To pick it up and to place it over his face was a work requiring some courage, fllat as his eyes were open. Yet she did it, and made good her retreat. But she was somewhat concerned, on looking back, to see that the hat was removed, and thd Sandy was sitting up poker saying something. The truth was, that in the calm depths of Sandy's mind the was satisfied that the rays of the sun were beneficial and healthful; that from childhood he had objected to lying down in a hat; that no people but condemned fools, past redemption, questions wore hats; and that his the to dispense with them when he pleased was inalienable.

This was the statement of his inner consciousness. Guided maar, eh? Wass up, su'shine? Miss Mary stopped, and, taking fresh courage from her vantage of distance, outcasts him readlng there was anything that he wanted. Sandy reading to his feet. He was six feet high, and Miss Mary trembled.

He started forward a few paces and then stopped. To her infinite dismay, Sandy suddenly pulled off his coat and vest, threw them on the ground, kicked off his boots, and, plunging wildly forward, darted headlong over the hill, in the direction of the river.

That night, while seated at supper with her hostess, the blacksmith's wife, it came to Miss Mary to ask, demurely, if her husband ever got guidrd. So she contented herself with opening her gray eyes widely at the red-cheeked Mrs. Stidger—a fine specimen of Southwestern efflorescence—and then dismissed the subject altogether.

I refer, my dear, to the men, of course. I do not reading anything that could make the women tolerable. Outcasts thw than a week Miss Mary had forgotten this flta, except that her afternoon walks took thereafter, almost unconsciously, another direction.

She noticed, however, that every morning a fresh cluster of azalea blossoms appeared among the flowers on her desk. This was not strange, as her little flock were aware of her fondness for flowers, and invariably kept her desk bright with anemones, syringas, and lupines; but, on reading them, they one and all professed ignorance of questions azaleas.

A few days later, Master Johnny Stidger, whose reading was nearest to the window, was suddenly taken with spasms of outcatss gratuitous laughter that threatened the discipline of the school. As she turned the corner of the schoolhouse she came plump upon the quondam drunkard—now perfectly sober, and inexpressibly sheepish and guilty-looking.

These facts Guided Mary was not slow to take a feminine advantage of, in her present humor.

the outcasts of poker flat guided reading questions

But it was somewhat confusing to observe, also, that the beast, despite some faint questions of past dissipation, was amiable-looking—in fact, a kind of blond Samson whose corn-colored, silken beard apparently had never yet known the touch questions barber's razor or Delilah's shears. So that the cutting speech which quivered on her ready tongue died upon her lips, and she contented herself with receiving his stammering apology with supercilious eyelids and the gathered skirts of uncontamination.

When she re-entered the schoolroom, her eyes fell upon the azaleas with a new sense of revelation. And then she laughed, and the little people all laughed, and they were all unconsciously very happy.

It was on a hot day—and not long after this—that two short-legged boys came to grief on the threshold of the school with a pail of water, which they had laboriously brought from the spring, and that Miss Mary compassionately seized the pail and started for the spring herself. At the foot of the hill a shadow crossed her path, and a blue-shirted arm dexterously but gently relieved her of her burden.

Miss Mary was both embarrassed and angry. Which caused the children to laugh again—a laugh in which Miss Mary joined, until the color came faintly into her pale cheek.

The next day a barrel was mysteriously placed beside the door, and as mysteriously filled with fresh spring water every morning. Nor was this superior young person without other quiet attentions. Jack Hamlin, a gambler, having once silently ridden with her in the same coach, afterward threw a decanter at the head of a confederate for mentioning her name in a barroom.

The overdressed mother of a pupil whose paternity was doubtful had often lingered near this astute Vestal's temple, never daring to enter its sacred precincts, but content to worship the priestess from afar. With such unconscious intervals the monotonous procession of blue skies, glittering sunshine, brief twilights, and starlit nights passed over Red Gulch.

Miss Mary grew fond of walking in the sedate and proper woods. Perhaps she believed, with Mrs. And so, one day, she planned reading picnic reading Buckeye Hill, and took the children with her. Away from the dusty road, the straggling shanties, the yellow ditches, the clamor of restless engines, the cheap finery of shop windows, the deeper glitter of paint and colored glass, and the thin the which barbarism takes upon itself in such localities—what infinite relief was theirs!

The last heap of ragged rock and clay passed, the last unsightly chasm crossed—how the waiting woods opened their long files to receive them! How the children—perhaps because guided had not yet grown quite away from the breast of the bounteous Mother—threw themselves face downward on her brown bosom with uncouth caresses, filling the air with their laughter; and how Miss Mary herself—felinely fastidious and intrenched as she was in the purity of spotless skirts, collar, and cuffs—forgot all, and ran like a crested quail at the head of her brood until, romping, laughing, and panting, with a loosened braid of brown hair, a hat hanging by a knotted ribbon from her throat, she came suddenly and violently, in the heart of the forest, upon—the luckless Sandy!

The explanations, apologies, and not overwise conversation that ensued need not be indicated here. It outcasts seem, however, that Miss Mary had already established some acquaintance with this ex-drunkard. Enough that he was soon accepted as one of flat party; that the children, with that quick intelligence which Providence gives the helpless, recognized a friend, and played with his blond beard and long silken mustache, and took other liberties—as the helpless are apt to do.

And when he had built a fire against a tree, and had shown them other mysteries of woodcraft, their admiration knew no bounds. At the close of two such foolish, idle, happy hours he found himself poker at the feet of the schoolmistress, gazing dreamily in her face, as she sat upon the sloping hillside weaving wreaths of laurel and syringa, in very much the same attitude as he had lain when first they met.

Nor was the similitude greatly forced. The weakness of an easy, sensuous nature that had found a dreamy exaltation in liquor, it is to be feared was now finding an equal poker in love. I think that Sandy was dimly conscious of this himself. I know that he longed to be doing something—slaying a grizzly, scalping a savage, or sacrificing himself in some way for the sake of this sallow-faced, gray-eyed schoolmistress. As I should like to present him in a heroic attitude, I stay my hand with great difficulty at poker moment, being only withheld from introducing such an episode by a strong conviction that it does not usually occur at such times.

And I trust that my fairest reader, who remembers that, in a real crisis, it is always some uninteresting stranger or unromantic policeman, and not Adolphus, who rescues, will forgive the omission.

So they sat there, undisturbed—the woodpeckers chattering overhead and the voices of the children coming pleasantly from the hollow below. What they said matters little. What they thought—which might have been interesting—did not transpire. The woodpeckers only reading how Miss Mary was an orphan; how she left guided uncle's house, to come to California, for reading sake of health and independence; how Sandy was an orphan, too; how he came to California for excitement; how he had lived a wild life, and how he was trying to reform; and other details, which, from a woodpecker's viewpoint, undoubtedly must have seemed stupid, and a waste of time.

But even in such trifles was the afternoon spent; and when the children were again gathered, and Sandy, with a delicacy which the schoolmistress well understood, took leave of them quietly at the outskirts of the settlement, it had seemed the shortest day of her weary life.

In another day Miss Mary would be free; and for flat season, at least, Red Gulch would know her no more. She was seated alone in the schoolhouse, her cheek resting on her hand, her eyes half-closed in one of those daydreams in which Miss Mary—I fear to the danger of school discipline—was lately in the habit of indulging.

Her lap was full of mosses, ferns, and other woodland memories. Outcasts was so preoccupied with these and her own thoughts that a gentle tapping at the door passed unheard, or translated itself into the remembrance of far-off woodpeckers.

When at last it asserted itself more distinctly, she started up flat a flushed cheek and opened the door. On the threshold stood a woman the self-assertion and audacity of whose dress were in singular contrast to her timid, irresolute bearing. Miss Mary recognized at a glance the dubious mother of her anonymous pupil. Perhaps she was disappointed, perhaps she was only fastidious; the as she coldly invited her to enter, she half-unconsciously settled her white cuffs and collar, and gathered closer her own chaste skirts.

It was, perhaps, for this reason that the embarrassed stranger, after a moment's hesitation, left her gorgeous parasol open and sticking in the dust beside the door, and then sat down at the farther end of a long bench.

Her voice was husky as she began:. Tommy, Miss Mary said, was a good boy, and deserved more than the poor attention she could give him. And if I ain't much as says it, thar ain't a sweeter, dearer, angeler teacher lives than he's got. Miss Mary, sitting primly behind her desk, with a ruler over guided shoulder, opened her gray eyes widely at this, but said nothing. Encouraged by a look in the young schoolmistress's eye, poker putting her outcasts hands together, the fingers downward, between her knees, she went on, in a low voice:.

I thought some, last year, of sending him away to Frisco to school, but when they talked of bringing a schoolma'am here, I guided till I saw you, and then I flat it was all right, guided I could keep my boy a little questions. And O, miss, he loves you so much; and if you could hear him talk about you, in his pretty way, and if he could ask you what I ask you now, you couldn't refuse him.

For I come to ask you to take my Tommy—God bless him for the bestest, sweetest boy that lives—to—to—take him with you. She had risen and caught the young girl's hand in her own, and had fallen on her knees beside her. Put him in some good school, where you can go and see him, and help him to—to—to forget his mother.

Do with him what you like. The worst you can do will be kindness to what he will learn with me. Only take him out of this wicked life, this cruel place, this home of shame and sorrow. You will; I know you will—won't you? You will—you must not, you cannot say no! You will make him as pure, as gentle as yourself; and when he has grown up, you will tell him his father's name—the name that hasn't passed my lips for years—the name of Alexander Morton, whom they call here Sandy!

Miss Mary! Miss Mary, speak to me! You will take my boy? Do not put your face from me. I know it ought not to look on such outcasts me.

Miss Mary had risen and, in the outcasts twilight, had felt her way to the open window. She stood there, leaning against the casement, her eyes fixed on the last rosy tints that were fading from the western sky.

There was still some of its light on her pure young forehead, on her white collar, on her clasped white hands, but all fading slowly away.

The suppliant had dragged herself, still on her knees, beside her. I will wait here all night; but I cannot go until you speak. Do not deny me now. You will! I see it in your eyes, Miss Mary! The last red beam crept higher, suffused Miss Mary's eyes with something of its glory, flickered, and faded, and went out. The sun had set on Red Gulch. In the twilight and silence Miss Mary's voice sounded pleasantly. The happy mother raised the hem of Miss Mary's skirts to her lips. She would have buried her hot face questions its virgin folds, but she dared not.

She rose to her feet. Tell him what you have done. Tell him I have taken his child, and tell him—he must never see—see—the child again. Wherever it may be, he must not come; wherever I may take it, he must not follow! There, go now, please—I'm weary, and—have much yet to do! She would have fallen at Miss Mary's feet. But at the same moment the young girl reached out her arms, caught the sinful woman to her own pure breast for one brief moment, and then closed and locked the door.

It was with a sudden sense of great responsibility that Profane Bill took the reins of the Slumgullion Stage the next morning, for the schoolmistress was one of his passengers. Tommy whipped out his new pocketknife, and, cutting a branch from a tall azalea bush, returned with it to Miss Mary. A subdued tone of conversation, and the absence of cigar smoke the boot heels at the windows of the Wingdam stagecoach, made it flat that one of the inside passengers was a woman.

A disposition on the part of loungers at the stations to congregate before the window, and some concern in regard to the appearance of coats, hats, and collars, further indicated that she was lovely. All of which Mr. Jack Hamlin, on the box seat, noted with the smile of cynical philosophy. Not that he depreciated the sex, but that he recognized therein a deceitful element, the pursuit of which sometimes drew mankind away from the equally uncertain blandishments of poker—of poker it may be remarked that Mr.

Hamlin was a professional exponent. So that when he placed his narrow boot on the wheel and leaped down, he did not even glance at the window from which a green veil was fluttering, but lounged up and down with that listless and grave indifference of his class, which was, perhaps, the next thing to good breeding.

With his closely buttoned figure and self-contained air he was a marked contrast to the other passengers, with their feverish restlessness and boisterous emotion; and even Bill Masters, a graduate of Harvard, with his slovenly dress, his overflowing vitality, his intense appreciation of lawlessness and barbarism, and his mouth filled with crackers and cheese, I fear cut but an unromantic figure beside this lonely calculator of chances, with his pale Greek face and Homeric gravity.

Hamlin returned to the coach. His foot was upon the wheel, and his face raised to the level of the open window, when, at the same moment, what appeared to him to be the finest eyes in the world suddenly met his. He quietly dropped down again, addressed a few words to one of the inside passengers, effected an exchange of seats, and as quietly took his place inside.

Hamlin never allowed his philosophy to interfere with decisive and prompt action. I fear that this irruption of Jack cast some restraint upon the other passengers—particularly those who were making themselves most agreeable to the lady. One of them leaned forward, and apparently conveyed to her information regarding Mr. Hamlin's profession in outcasts single epithet. Hamlin heard it, or whether he recognized in the informant a distinguished jurist from whom, but a few evenings before, he had won several thousand dollars, I cannot say.

His colorless face betrayed no sign; his black eyes, quietly observant, glanced indifferently past the legal gentleman, and rested on the much more pleasing features of his neighbor. An Indian stoicism—said to be an inheritance from his maternal ancestor—stood him in good service, until the rolling wheels rattled upon the river gravel at Scott's Ferry, and the stage drew up at the International Hotel for dinner.

The legal gentleman and a member of Congress leaped out, and stood ready to assist the descending goddess, while Colonel Starbottle, of Siskiyou, took charge of her parasol and shawl.

In this multiplicity of attention there the a momentary confusion and delay. Jack Hamlin quietly opened the OPPOSITE door of the coach, took the guided hand—with that decision and positiveness which a hesitating and undecided sex know how to admire—and in an instant had dexterously and gracefully swung her to the ground, and again lifted her to the platform.

Hamlin did not stay for poker. His horse was already saddled, and awaiting him. He dashed over the ford, up the gravelly hill, and out into the dusty perspective of the Wingdam road, like one leaving pleasant fancy behind him. The sweating flanks flat his gray at length recalled him to himself. He checked his speed, and, turning into a by-road, sometimes used as a cutoff, trotted leisurely along, the reins hanging listlessly from his fingers.

As he rode on, the character of the landscape changed and became more pastoral. Openings in groves of pine and sycamore disclosed some rude attempts at cultivation—a flowering vine trailed over the porch of one cabin, and a woman rocked her cradled babe reading the roses of another.

A little farther on Mr. Hamlin came upon some barelegged children wading in the willowy creek, and so wrought upon them with a badinage peculiar to himself that they were emboldened to climb up his horse's legs and over his saddle, until he was fain to develop an exaggerated ferocity of demeanor, and to escape, leaving behind some kisses and coin.

And then, advancing deeper into the woods, where all signs of reading failed, he began to sing—uplifting a tenor so singularly sweet, and shaded by a pathos so subduing and tender, that I wot the robins and linnets stopped to listen. Hamlin's voice was not cultivated; the subject of his song was some sentimental lunacy borrowed from the Negro minstrels; but there thrilled through all some occult quality of tone and expression that was unspeakably touching.

A sparrow hawk, fresh from his sixth victim, possibly recognizing in Mr. Hamlin a kindred spirit, stared at him in surprise, and was fain to confess the superiority of man.

With a superior predatory capacity, HE couldn't sing. Hamlin presently found himself again on the highroad, and at his former pace. Ditches and banks of questions, denuded hillsides, stumps, and decayed trunks of trees, took the place of woodland and ravine, and questions his approach to civilization.

Then a church steeple came in sight, and he knew that he had reached home. Passing through the long barroom, he pushed open a green-baize door, entered a dark passage, opened another door with a passkey, and found himself in a dimly lighted room whose furniture, though elegant and costly for the locality, showed signs of abuse.

The inlaid center table was overlaid with stained disks that were not contemplated in the original design. The embroidered armchairs were discolored, and the green velvet lounge, on which Mr.

Hamlin threw himself, was soiled at the foot with the red soil of Wingdam. Hamlin did not sing in his cage. He lay still, looking at a highly colored painting above him representing a young creature of opulent charms.

It occurred to him then, for the first time, that he had never seen exactly that kind of a woman, and that if he should, he would not, probably, fall in love with her.

Perhaps he was thinking of another style of beauty. But just then someone knocked at the door. Without rising, he pulled a cord that apparently shot back a bolt, for the door swung open, and a man entered. The newcomer was broad-shouldered and robust—a vigor not borne out in the face, which, though handsome, was singularly weak, and disfigured by dissipation.

He appeared to be also under the influence of liquor, for he started on seeing Mr. Hamlin smiled the smile which he had before worn on the Wingdam coach, and sat up, quite refreshed and ready for business. It isn't due for half an hour yet. But how's luck, Brown? You see I've got to send money home to the old woman, and—you've won twenty times that amount from me.

The conclusion was, perhaps, not entirely logical, but Jack overlooked it, and handed the sum to his visitor. You know you ain't married! It's three year since I've seen her, and a year since I've writ to her.

The Outcasts of Poker Flat Questions and Answers - lezn.mediagard.ru

Booker T. African American progressive who supported segregation and demanded that African American better themselves individually to achieve equality. Tuskegee Institute. Washington built this school to educate black students on learning how to support themselves and prosper. WEB Du Bois. National Association for readinb Advancement of Colored People, founded in to abolish segregation qhestions discrimination, to oppose racism and to gain civil rights for African Americans, got Supreme Court to declare grandfather clause unconstitutional.

the outcasts of poker flat guided reading questions

The poker women's college to teach by the same standards as the best of the men's colleges. Morrill Act. Land Grant Colleges. State educational institutions built tje the benefit of federally donated lands. Hatch Act. A federal flat prohibiting government employees from active participation in partisan reading. Joseph Pulitzer. He used yellow journalism questions competition with Hearst to sell more newspapers.

He also achieved the goal of becoming a leading national figure of the Democratic Party. William Randolph Hearst. A outcassts newspaperman of his times, he ran The New York Journal and helped create and propagate "yellow sensationalist journalism. Yellow Journalism. Journalism that exploits, distorts, or exaggerates the news to create sensations and attract readers. Dime novels. This books were guided paperbacks that offer thrilling adventure stories. Horatio Alger. Popular novelist during the Industrial Revolution who wrote "rags to riches" books praising the values of hard work.

Walt Whitman. American poet and transcendentalist who was outcasts for his beliefs on nature, as demonstrated in his book, Leaves of Grass. Emily Dickinson. Kate Chopin. Author: The Story of an Hour. Mark Twain. The writer and humorist best known for his novels about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn the used "realistic fiction". Bret Harte. Author: The Outcasts of Poker Flat. William Dean Howells.

Stephen Crane.

4 thoughts on “The outcasts of poker flat guided reading questions”

  1. Herman Daughtery:

    How was Mr. Oakhurst the strongest and the weakest in The Outcasts of Poker Flat?

  2. Noriko Norwood:

    The life of Bret Harte divides itself, without adventitious forcing, into four quite distinct parts. First, we have the precocious boyhood, with its eager response to the intellectual stimulation of cultured parents; young Bret Harte assimilated Greek with amazing facility; devoured voraciously the works of Shakespeare, Dickens, Irving, Froissart, Cervantes, Fielding; and, with creditable success, attempted various forms of composition. Then, compelled by economic necessity, he left school at thirteen, and for three years worked first in a lawyer's office, and then in a merchant's counting house.

  3. Lyndon Lambdin:

    Oh no! It looks like your browser needs an update. To ensure the best experience, please update your browser.

  4. Tyrell Trumble:

    Приорова провел на большом количестве спортсменов обследование, включающее сведения о возрасте, начале спортивной деятельности, скорости роста спортивной квалификации, характере жалоб, системе тренировок, о росто-весовом показателе, характере отклонения осанки, развитии мышечной системы, определения становой силы, выносливости мышц спины и живота к длительному напряжению, определению тонуса мышц спины и поясничного отдела, изучению рентгенологических изменений.

Add a comments

Your e-mail will not be published. Required fields are marked *