tailieunhanh - The Man Who Laughs VICTOR HUGO PART 1 BOOK 3 CHAPTER 4

The Man Who Laughs VICTOR HUGO PART 1 BOOK 3 CHAPTER 4 Đây là một tác phẩm anh ngữ nổi tiếng với những từ vựng nâng cao chuyên ngành văn chương. Nhằm giúp các bạn yêu thich tiếng anh luyện tập và củng cố thêm kỹ năng đọc tiếng anh . | The Man Who Laughs VICTOR HUGO PART 1 BOOK 3 CHAPTER 4 Another Form of Desert It was Weymouth which he had just entered. Weymouth then was not the respectable and fine Weymouth of to-day. Ancient Weymouth did not present like the present one an irreproachable rectangular quay with an inn and a statue in honour of George III. This resulted from the fact that George III. had not yet been born. For the same reason they had not yet designed on the slope of the green hill towards the east fashioned flat on the soil by cutting away the turf and leaving the bare chalk to the view the white horse an acre long bearing the king upon his back and always turning in honour of George III. his tail to the city. These honours however were deserved. George III. having lost in his old age the intellect he had never possessed in his youth was not responsible for the calamities of his reign. He was an innocent. Why not erect statues to him Weymouth a hundred and eighty years ago was about as symmetrical as a game of spillikins in confusion. In legends it is said that Astaroth travelled over the world carrying on her back a wallet which contained everything even good women in their houses. A pell-mell of sheds thrown from her devil s bag would give an idea of that irregular Weymouth--the good women in the sheds included. The Music Hall remains as a specimen of those buildings. A confusion of wooden dens carved and eaten by worms which carve in another fashion --shapeless overhanging buildings some with pillars leaning one against the other for support against the sea wind and leaving between them awkward spaces of narrow and winding channels lanes and passages often flooded by the equinoctial tides a heap of old grandmother houses crowded round a grandfather church--such was Weymouth a sort of old Norman village thrown up on the coast of England. The traveller who entered the tavern now replaced by the hotel instead of paying royally his twenty-five francs for a fried sole and a bottle