¿Cómo aprender inglés fácil y desde casa?

¿Cómo aprender inglés, fácilmente y de forma eficaz?

Adoptar la actitud correcta

Podrás progresar y alcanzar un nivel excepcional, pero siempre habrá cosas nuevas que aprender. Siempre tendrás que trabajar el inglés y mantenerlo. En realidad, nunca se detendrá. ¡Eso es lo que lo hace emocionante!

Establecer el objetivo correcto

Así que, para ser eficaz ahora, empieza por definir tu objetivo actual. ¿Qué nivel quiere alcanzar?

Uno de los objetivos más comunes es: Alcanzar un nivel de conversación fluido, y no tener miedo a hablar en inglés nunca más.

Es un gran ejemplo de objetivo para empezar. ¿Cuál es el tuyo?

Ten en cuenta que la segunda parte de este objetivo no está directamente relacionada con tu nivel. Se trata más bien del miedo inconsciente a cometer errores y pasar vergüenza.

Pasión, entusiasmo y práctica, el disparador para aprender inglés

Una de las mejores formas de progresar en inglés es viajar al extranjero. El viaje da el impulso para hacer del inglés una pasión. También descubrir autores fascinantes de habla inglesa. Esto te obliga a leer en ese idioma. Luego viajar, vivir y trabajar en Inglaterra. Eso ayuda a mejorar aún más. Pero el detonante puede ser la pasión que despierta ese primer viaje.

No te preocupes, la pasión, el entusiasmo y la práctica es posible sin necesidad de viajar y te explico cómo.

Las tres claves para progresar rápidamente en inglés

1) La primera clave es forzar a tu cerebro a pensar en inglés, y estar en contacto con el idioma que estás aprendiendo cada día, cada semana. Si estás en la fase de aprendizaje, y quieres progresar rápidamente, te recomiendo de 3 a 4 horas semanales en contacto con el inglés. No necesariamente 4 horas de trabajo duro, pero al menos algún contacto: una conversación, una película, un libro, etc. Conoce a gente inglesa, piensa en inglés, lee en inglés, canta en inglés, ve películas, descubre la cultura de los países de habla inglesa que más te interesan.

⇒ Letras de Canciones en Inglés - Lyrics

2) La segunda clave es seguir tus pasiones e intereses.

Apasionarse por el inglés, pero también por los temas que vas a seguir en inglés. Ver películas de los directores que te gustan, con tus actores favoritos. Lee a los autores que te gustan. Sigue blogs, periódicos, podcasts, foros, sobre tus intereses.

Sea cual sea tu interés, si lees, escuchas, escribes en foros sobre temas que te gustan, ¡será mucho más fácil!

3) La tercera clave es darse los medios para conseguirlo.

Empieza ahora, y date 3 o 4 meses para progresar. Puede parecer mucho tiempo, pero en realidad es rápido. Si lo haces, tu progreso será fenomenal. Sin embargo, no se trata de ir a por todas una semana y dejar de hacerlo la siguiente. Busca la mejora continua, trabajando un poco, pero regularmente, cada semana, durante un mínimo de 3 a 4 meses para empezar.
Lo ideal es que le cojas el tranquillo y luego se convierta en algo normal y continúes.
También puedes hacer un pequeño plan de clases personal, anotando las nociones que te gustaría aprender.

Cómo aprender inglés fácilmente - ¿Cómo se ponen en práctica estas tres claves para un aprendizaje eficaz del inglés?

Organizar el entorno para estar en contacto con el inglés todos los días de forma automática

La idea es que utilices la motivación del principio para establecer hábitos que se mantengan, incluso cuando la motivación del principio se haya apagado. Puedes poner el inglés en todas partes de tu vida, de modo que tu cerebro se bañe en el idioma automáticamente, y por tanto sin esfuerzo.

Por ejemplo, ¿sabías que puedes cambiar la configuración de tu cuenta de tus redes sociales para que se muestren en inglés? Es muy fácil, sólo tienes que seleccionarlo en los ajustes. Puedes hacer lo mismo con tu teléfono móvil o tablet, ordenador, videojuegos. Otra idea que pondrá el inglés en tus oídos: Pon una emisora de radio en inglés.

Al principio, esto te obligará a rebuscar en el diccionario para entenderlo todo, ¡pero merece la pena! No te desanimes, si al principio te parece pesado, pronto te acostumbrarás.

Piensa en inglés

Intenta también pensar y hablar contigo mismo en inglés. Todo lo que se te ocurra en tu vida diaria, intenta pensarlo en inglés. Esto puede parecer difícil al principio. Tu pensamiento será más básico en la nueva lengua, porque la domina menos que tu lengua materna. El lenguaje será menos preciso, menos evolucionado, menos matizado. Bueno, ¡qué pena! Hay que mantener el entusiasmo de un principiante, como un niño que descubre y se divierte.

Leer libros y cómics en inglés

¿Hay algún autor de habla inglesa que te guste especialmente? ¿Ken Follett? ¿Arthur Conan Doyle? ¿J.K. Rowling? ¡Léelo directamente en inglés! ⇒ Aquí encontrarás "libros en inglés" para comprar.

Visita también nuestro apartado de Cuentos en Inglés - Stories in English tenemos cientos de historias.

Piensa también en las librerías o bibliotecas. La mayoría tiene estanterías enteras de libros en inglés. Vale la pena.

No te olvides de leer cómics. La ventaja del cómic es que las imágenes facilitan la comprensión. Si eres un fanático, ¡adelante!

Lee y aprende sobre la cultura del país que te interesa. Descubre las costumbres, los hábitos, los deportes nacionales, las fiestas, etc. Es una forma esencial de abrirse a la cultura y entender la forma de pensar de quienes hablan la lengua que estás aprendiendo.

Películas y series en VO

La gran pregunta con las películas y series en VO es si hay que poner subtítulos, y si es así, en qué idioma.

Lo mejor es poner subtítulos para poder entender lo máximo posible. Si no puedes entender nada sin los subtítulos, ponlos. Al principio, siempre será más positivo que no hacer nada. Siempre puedes volver a ver la película o la serie, cambiando el idioma de los subtítulos, e incluso de nuevo sin subtítulos, si puedes hacerlo. Lo importante es hacerlo según tu nivel. Si no entiendes nada, será menos efectivo que si pones los subtítulos. También puede mirar canales de tv ingleses.

Podcasts

Los podcasts son imprescindibles para escuchar inglés todos los días. Hay muchos podcasts en inglés sobre todos los temas, política, historia, cultura, desarrollo personal, deportes, ¡incluso clases de inglés! Haz una búsqueda según tus pasiones y suscríbete. La mayoría de ellos son gratuitos.

Canales de Youtube en inglés

Hay muchos. Suscríbete a los que coinciden con tus intereses. 

Periódicos ingleses

Si le gustan ciertos periódicos, puede leer los artículos directamente en los sitios web de estos periódicos. Por ejemplo, el New York Times,  la revista Time, etc. Si tiene un lector electrónico Kindle (o de cualquier otra marca), puede recibir los artículos de los periódicos que te interesan, de forma gratuita, directamente en tu lector electrónico.

Cocinar

Otra idea original: leer recetas en inglés. Cocinar nuevos platos. Especialidades de otros lugares. Tenemos una sección con recetas de cocina

Haz un curso

¡Se puede tener éxito sin tomar una clase, sin embargo, es una verdadera ayuda! Te dará un marco de trabajo y te hará progresar más rápido. Ahorrarás tiempo, se orientará directamente sobre las nociones útiles para aprender, mantendrá tu motivación a largo plazo. En resumen, con un curso, es más fácil.

Los cursos están dirigidos a todos los niveles y a diferentes problemas de aprendizaje (acento, vocabulario, comprensión, etc.).

Pero sea cual sea el curso que elijas, asegúrate de que lo disfrutas y te entusiasma.

¿Hay que estudiar gramática?

La gramática es útil, hay que saber un mínimo para entender cómo funciona la lengua y saber utilizarla correctamente.

Habla con ingleses

Si puedes conocer a personas de habla inglesa, es genial.

Si no puedes conocer a personas de habla inglesa, busca a alguien que quiera aprender inglés contigo o que ya lo hable. Puedes hablar en inglés regularmente con esta persona y motivaros mutuamente para progresar.

Si tienes amigos en tu círculo que hablan varios idiomas, sal con ellos. Hazles preguntas, pídeles que hablen un poco de inglés contigo.

Planificar un viaje

Si puedes, planifica un viaje o dos durante el año Reino Unido. Te motivará y te ayudará a mejorar.

También hay organizaciones que ofrecen estancias con ingleses.

Supera tu miedo a hablar en inglés y mejora tu pronunciación. Concéntrate en ser entendido, antes de tener un acento perfecto.

¡No te avergüences! Puedes hablar inglés de verdad, sin dominar todo al 100%. Del mismo modo, tu acento no debe ser un obstáculo. Si esperas a pronunciar como un nativo antes de empezar a hablar, tardarás mucho más tiempo y te complicarás las cosas. Pronunciar como un nativo es un gran objetivo, pero no esperes a alcanzarlo para empezar a hablar.

🔆 También te puede interesar:

• Plural de los sustantivos en inglés
• Many more, a lot more y Much more. Usos en inglés
• ¿Qué son los phrasal verbs en inglés? Los más usados
• Cómo expresar opiniones en inglés
• Uso de whose en inglés - Pronombres relativos
• Who, which y that - Pronombres Relativos en inglés
• Was going to - El futuro en el pasado
• DO y MAKE en inglés ¿Cuáles son las diferencias?
• Cuándo usar Since, For, Ago: ¿Cuáles son las diferencias?
• The Gerund - El gerundio en inglés
• El Imperativo en Inglés - Imperative
• El comparativo y el superlativo en inglés
• Preguntas con WH-Questions 01 - What, where, why, who
• Preguntas con WH-Questions 02 - When, Which, Whose, How
• Cómo expresar cantidades en inglés
• Adjectives - Los Adjetivos en Inglés
• Uso de some / any acompañando nombres contables/incontables
• Modal verbs - Verbos modales en inglés
• El tiempo futuro en inglés
• Present Perfect Progressive - Presente perfecto progresivo
• Present perfect - El presente perfecto inglés
• Pretérito progresivo o continuo en inglés
• Simple past - El pretérito o pasado simple en inglés
• Presente continuo - Forma Afirmativa - English grammar
• Presente continuo - Forma Negativa
• Puntuación en inglés - All about punctuation in English
• Los verbos Auxiliares en inglés - Auxiliary Verbs
• Verbos irregulares en inglés, la lista que debes conocer
• Cómo decir la fecha en inglés - How to say the date in English
• Construir frases simples - To build a simple sentence
• Nombres contables e incontables en inglés
• Presente continuo - Forma Interrogativa
• Cómo Preguntar y decir el precio en inglés

Adblock test (Why?)

Dictates in English - Textos para dictados en Inglés - 09

Recursos educativos en inglés. Textos en inglés, idóneos para dictados y traducciones. Ideal para aprender inglés, practicar vocabulario, pronunciación y mucho más, de una manera divertida.

The Hare and the Tortoise

The Hare was once boasting of his speed before the other animals. ‘I have never yet been beaten,’ said he,‘when I put forth my full speed. I challenge any one here to race with me.’

The Tortoise said quietly, ‘I accept your challenge.’‘That is a good joke,’ said the Hare; ‘I could dance round you all the way.’

‘Keep your boasting till you’ve beaten,’ answered the Tortoise. ‘Shall we race?’

So a course was fixed and a start was made. The Hare darted almost out of sight at once, but soon stopped and, to show his contempt for the Tortoise, lay down to have a nap. The Tortoise plodded on and plodded on, and when the Hare awoke from his nap, he saw the Tortoise just near the winning-post and could not run up in time to save the race.

Then said the Tortoise: ‘Plodding wins the race.’

The Old Man and Death

An old labourer, bent double with age and toil, was gathering sticks in a forest. At last he grew so tired and hopeless that he threw down the bundle of sticks, and cried out: ‘I cannot bear this life any longer. Ah, I wish Death would only come and take me!’

As he spoke, Death, a grisly skeleton, appeared and said to him: ‘What wouldst thou, Mortal? I heard thee call me.’

‘Please, sir,’ replied the woodcutter, ‘would you kindly help me to lift this faggot of sticks on to my shoulder?’

We would often be sorry if our wishes were gratified.

The Hare With Many Friends

A Hare was very popular with the other beasts who all claimed to be her friends. But one day she heard the hounds approaching and hoped to escape them by the aid of her many Friends. So, she went to the horse, and asked him to carry her away from the hounds on his back. But he declined, stating that he had important work to do for his master. ‘He felt sure,’ he said, ‘that all her other friends would come to her assistance.’ She then applied to the bull, and hoped that he would repel the hounds with his horns. The bull replied: ‘I am very sorry, but I have an appointment with a lady; but I feel sure that our friend the goat will do what you want.’ The goat, however, feared that his back might do her some harm if he took her upon it. The ram, he felt sure, was the proper friend to apply to. So she went to the ram and told him the case. The ram replied: ‘Another time, my dear friend. I do not like to interfere on the present occasion, as hounds have been known to eat sheep as well as hares.’ The Hare then applied, as a last hope, to the calf, who regretted that he was unable to help her, as he did not like to take the responsibility upon himself, as so many older persons than himself had declined the task. By this time the hounds were quite near, and the Hare took to her heels and luckily escaped.

He that has many friends, has no friends.

The Lion in Love

A Lion once fell in love with a beautiful maiden and proposed marriage to her parents. The old people did not know what to say. They did not like to give their daughter to the Lion, yet they did not wish to enrage the King of Beasts. At last the father said: ‘We feel highly honoured by your Majesty’s proposal, but you see our daughter is a tender young thing, and we fear that in the vehemence of your affection you might possibly do her some injury. Might I venture to suggest that your Majesty should have your claws removed, and your teeth extracted, then we would gladly consider your proposal again.’ The Lion was so much in love that he had his claws trimmed and his big teeth taken out. But when he came again to the parents of the young girl they simply laughed in his face, and bade him do his worst.

Love can tame the wildest.

The Lion, the Fox, and the Beasts

The Lion once gave out that he was sick unto death and summoned the animals to come and hear his last Will and Testament. So the Goat came to the Lion’s cave, and stopped there listening for a long time. Then a Sheep went in, and before she came out a Calf came up to receive the last wishes of the Lord of the Beasts. But soon the Lion seemed to recover, and came to the mouth of his cave, and saw the Fox, who had been waiting outside for some time. ‘Why do you not come to pay your respects to me?’ said the Lion to the Fox.

‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon,’ said the Fox, ‘but I noticed the track of the animals that have already come to you; and while I see many hoof-marks going in, I see none coming out. Till the animals that have entered your cave come out again I prefer to remain in the open air.’

It is easier to get into the enemy’s toils than out again.

The Ass’s Brains

The Lion and the Fox went hunting together. The Lion, on the advice of the Fox, sent a message to the Ass, proposing to make an alliance between their two families. The Ass came to the place of meeting, overjoyed at the prospect of a royal alliance. But when he came there the Lion simply pounced on the Ass, and said to the Fox:‘Here is our dinner for to-day. Watch you here while I go and have a nap. Woe betide you if you touch my prey.’ The Lion went away and the Fox waited; but finding that his master did not return, ventured to take out the brains of the Ass and ate them up. When the Lion came back he soon noticed the absence of the brains, and asked the Fox in a terrible voice: ‘What have you done with the brains?’

‘Brains, your Majesty! it had none, or it would never have fallen into your trap.’

Wit has always an answer ready.

🔆 Otros textos para dictados en inglés

Adblock test (Why?)

[unable to retrieve full-text content]

The Thing's The Play - O. Henry - Classic Stories

Recursos Educativos en Inglés - Stories in English

Cuentos clásicos en inglés

The Thing's The Play - O. Henry

Being acquainted with a newspaper reporter who had a couple of free passes, I got to see the performance a few nights ago at one of the popular vaudeville houses.

One of the numbers was a violin solo by a striking-looking man not much past forty, but with very gray thick hair. Not being afflicted with a taste for music, I let the system of noises drift past my ears while I regarded the man.

"There was a story about that chap a month or two ago," said the reporter. "They gave me the assignment. It was to run a column and was to be on the extremely light and joking order. The old man seems to like the funny touch I give to local happenings. Oh, yes, I'm working on a farce comedy now. Well, I went down to the house and got all the details; but I certainly fell down on that job. I went back and turned in a comic write-up of an east side funeral instead. Why? Oh, I couldn't seem to get hold of it with my funny hooks, somehow. Maybe you could make a one-act tragedy out of it for a curtain-raiser. I'll give you the details."

After the performance my friend, the reporter, recited to me the facts over Wurzburger.

"I see no reason," said I, when he had concluded, "why that shouldn't make a rattling good funny story. Those three people couldn't have acted in a more absurd and preposterous manner if they had been real actors in a real theatre. I'm really afraid that all the stage is a world, anyhow, and all the players men and women. 'The thing's the play,' is the way I quote Mr. Shakespeare."

"Try it," said the reporter.

"I will," said I; and I did, to show him how he could have made a humorous column of it for his paper.

There stands a house near Abingdon Square. On the ground floor there has been for twenty-five years a little store where toys and notions and stationery are sold.

One night twenty years ago there was a wedding in the rooms above the store. The Widow Mayo owned the house and store. Her daughter Helen was married to Frank Barry. John Delaney was best man. Helen was eighteen, and her picture had been printed in a morning paper next to the headlines of a "Wholesale Female Murderess" story from Butte, Mont. But after your eye and intelligence had rejected the connection, you seized your magnifying glass and read beneath the portrait her description as one of a series of Prominent Beauties and Belles of the lower west side.

Frank Barry and John Delaney were "prominent" young beaux of the same side, and bosom friends, whom you expected to turn upon each other every time the curtain went up. One who pays his money for orchestra seats and fiction expects this. That is the first funny idea that has turned up in the story yet. Both had made a great race for Helen's hand. When Frank won, John shook his hand and congratulated him - honestly, he did.

After the ceremony Helen ran upstairs to put on her hat. She was getting married in a traveling dress. She and Frank were going to Old Point Comfort for a week. Downstairs the usual horde of gibbering cave-dwellers were waiting with their hands full of old Congress gaiters and paper bags of hominy.

Then there was a rattle of the fire-escape, and into her room jumps the mad and infatuated John Delaney, with a damp curl drooping upon his forehead, and made violent and reprehensible love to his lost one, entreating her to flee or fly with him to the Riviera, or the Bronx, or any old place where there are Italian skies and dolce far niente.

It would have carried Blaney off his feet to see Helen repulse him. With blazing and scornful eyes she fairly withered him by demanding whatever he meant by speaking to respectable people that way.

In a few moments she had him going. The manliness that had possessed him departed. He bowed low, and said something about "irresistible impulse" and "forever carry in his heart the memory of" - and she suggested that he catch the first fire-escape going down.

"I will away," said John Delaney, "to the furthermost parts of the earth. I cannot remain near you and know that you are another's. I will to Africa, and there amid other scenes strive to for -"

"For goodness sake, get out," said Helen. "Somebody might come in."

He knelt upon one knee, and she extended him one white hand that he might give it a farewell kiss.

Girls, was this choice boon of the great little god Cupid ever vouchsafed you - to have the fellow you want hard and fast, and have the one you don't want come with a damp curl on his forehead and kneel to you and babble of Africa and love which, in spite of everything, shall forever bloom, an amaranth, in his heart? To know your power, and to feel the sweet security of your own happy state; to send the unlucky one, broken-hearted, to foreign climes, while you congratulate yourself as he presses his last kiss upon your knuckles, that your nails are well manicured - say, girls, it's galluptious - don't ever let it get by you.

And then, of course - how did you guess it? - the door opened and in stalked the bridegroom, jealous of slow-tying bonnet strings.

The farewell kiss was imprinted upon Helen's hand, and out of the window and down the fire-escape sprang John Delaney, Africa bound.

A little slow music, if you please - faint violin, just a breath in the clarinet and a touch of the 'cello. Imagine the scene. Frank, white-hot, with the cry of a man wounded to death bursting from him. Helen, rushing and clinging to him, trying to explain. He catches her wrists and tears them from his shoulders - once, twice, thrice he sways her this way and that - the stage manager will show you how - and throws her from him to the floor a huddled, crushed, moaning thing. Never, he cries, will he look upon her face again, and rushes from the house through the staring groups of astonished guests.

And, now because it is the Thing instead of the Play, the audience must stroll out into the real lobby of the world and marry, die, grow gray, rich, poor, happy or sad during the intermission of twenty years which must precede the rising of the curtain again.

Mrs. Barry inherited the shop and the house. At thirty-eight she could have bested many an eighteen-year-old at a beauty show on points and general results. Only a few people remembered her wedding comedy, but she made of it no secret. She did not pack it in lavender or moth balls, nor did she sell it to a magazine.

One day a middle-aged money-making lawyer, who bought his legal cap and ink of her, asked her across the counter to marry him.

"I'm really much obliged to you," said Helen, cheerfully, "but I married another man twenty years ago. He was more a goose than a man, but I think I love him yet. I have never seen him since about half an hour after the ceremony. Was it copying ink that you wanted or just writing fluid?"

The lawyer bowed over the counter with old-time grace and left a respectful kiss on the back of her hand. Helen sighed. Parting salutes, however romantic, may be overdone. Here she was at thirty-eight, beautiful and admired; and all that she seemed to have got from her lovers were approaches and adieus. Worse still, in the last one she had lost a customer, too.

Business languished, and she hung out a Room to Let card. Two large rooms on the third floor were prepared for desirable tenants. Roomers came, and went regretfully, for the house of Mrs. Barry was the abode of neatness, comfort and taste.

One day came Ramonti, the violinist, and engaged the front room above. The discord and clatter uptown offended his nice ear; so a friend had sent him to this oasis in the desert of noise.

Ramonti, with his still youthful face, his dark eyebrows, his short, pointed, foreign, brown beard, his distinguished head of gray hair, and his artist's temperament - revealed in his light, gay and sympathetic manner - was a welcome tenant in the old house near Abingdon Square.

Helen lived on the floor above the store. The architecture of it was singular and quaint. The hall was large and almost square. Up one side of it, and then across the end of it ascended an open stairway to the floor above. This hall space she had furnished as a sitting room and office combined. There she kept her desk and wrote her business letters; and there she sat of evenings by a warm fire and a bright red light and sewed or read. Ramonti found the atmosphere so agreeable that he spent much time there, describing to Mrs. Barry the wonders of Paris, where he had studied with a particularly notorious and noisy fiddler.

Next comes lodger No. 2, a handsome, melancholy man in the early 40's, with a brown, mysterious beard, and strangely pleading, haunting eyes. He, too, found the society of Helen a desirable thing. With the eyes of Romeo and Othello's tongue, he charmed her with tales of distant climes and wooed her by respectful innuendo.

From the first Helen felt a marvelous and compelling thrill in the presence of this man. His voice somehow took her swiftly back to the days of her youth's romance. This feeling grew, and she gave way to it, and it led her to an instinctive belief that he had been a factor in that romance. And then with a woman's reasoning (oh, yes, they do, sometimes) she leaped over common syllogism and theory, and logic, and was sure that her husband had come back to her. For she saw in his eyes love, which no woman can mistake, and a thousand tons of regret and remorse, which aroused pity, which is perilously near to love requited, which is the sine qua non in the house that Jack built.

But she made no sign. A husband who steps around the corner for twenty years and then drops in again should not expect to find his slippers laid out too conveniently near nor a match ready lighted for his cigar. There must be expiation, explanation, and possibly execration. A little purgatory, and then, maybe, if he were properly humble, he might be trusted with a harp and crown. And so she made no sign that she knew or suspected.

And my friend, the reporter, could see nothing funny in this! Sent out on an assignment to write up a roaring, hilarious, brilliant joshing story of - but I will not knock a brother - let us go on with the story.

One evening Ramonti stopped in Helen's hall-office-reception-room and told his love with the tenderness and ardor of the enraptured artist. His words were a bright flame of the divine fire that glows in the heart of a man who is a dreamer and doer combined.

"But before you give me an answer," he went on, before she could accuse him of suddenness, "I must tell you that 'Ramonti' is the only name I have to offer you. My manager gave me that. I do not know who I am or where I came from. My first recollection is of opening my eyes in a hospital. I was a young man, and I had been there for weeks. My life before that is a blank to me. They told me that I was found lying in the street with a wound on my head and was brought there in an ambulance. They thought I must have fallen and struck my head upon the stones. There was nothing to show who I was. I have never been able to remember. After I was discharged from the hospital, I took up the violin. I have had success. Mrs. Barry - I do not know your name except that - I love you; the first time I saw you I realized that you were the one woman in the world for me - and" - oh, a lot of stuff like that.

Helen felt young again. First a wave of pride and a sweet little thrill of vanity went all over her; and then she looked Ramonti in the eyes, and a tremendous throb went through her heart. She hadn't expected that throb. It took her by surprise. The musician had become a big factor in her life, and she hadn't been aware of it.

"Mr. Ramonti," she said sorrowfully (this was not on the stage, remember; it was in the old home near Abingdon Square), "I'm awfully sorry, but I'm a married woman."

And then she told him the sad story of her life, as a heroine must do, sooner or later, either to a theatrical manager or to a reporter.

Ramonti took her hand, bowed low and kissed it, and went up to his room.

Helen sat down and looked mournfully at her hand. Well she might. Three suitors had kissed it, mounted their red roan steeds and ridden away.

In an hour entered the mysterious stranger with the haunting eyes. Helen was in the willow rocker, knitting a useless thing in cotton-wool. He ricocheted from the stairs and stopped for a chat. Sitting across the table from her, he also poured out his narrative of love. And then he said: "Helen, do you not remember me? I think I have seen it in your eyes. Can you forgive the past and remember the love that has lasted for twenty years? I wronged you deeply - I was afraid to come back to you - but my love overpowered my reason. Can you, will you, forgive me?"

Helen stood up. The mysterious stranger held one of her hands in a strong and trembling clasp.

There she stood, and I pity the stage that it has not acquired a scene like that and her emotions to portray.

For she stood with a divided heart. The fresh, unforgettable, virginal love for her bridegroom was hers; the treasured, sacred, honored memory of her first choice filled half her soul. She leaned to that pure feeling. Honor and faith and sweet, abiding romance bound her to it. But the other half of her heart and soul was filled with something else - a later, fuller, nearer influence. And so the old fought against the new.

And while she hesitated, from the room above came the soft, racking, petitionary music of a violin. The hag, music, bewitches some of the noblest. The daws may peck upon one's sleeve without injury, but whoever wears his heart upon his tympanum gets it not far from the neck.

This music and the musician caller her, and at her side honor and the old love held her back.

"Forgive me," he pleaded.

"Twenty years is a long time to remain away from the one you say you love," she declared, with a purgatorial touch.

"How could I tell?" he begged. "I will conceal nothing from you. That night when he left I followed him. I was mad with jealousy. On a dark street I struck him down. He did not rise. I examined him. His head had struck a stone. I did not intend to kill him. I was mad with love and jealousy. I hid near by and saw an ambulance take him away. Although you married him, Helen -"

"Who are you?" cried the woman, with wide-open eyes, snatching her hand away.

"Don't you remember me, Helen - the one who has always loved you best? I am John Delaney. If you can forgive -"

But she was gone, leaping, stumbling, hurrying, flying up the stairs toward the music and him who had forgotten, but who had known her for his in each of his two existences, and as she climbed up she sobbed, cried and sang: "Frank! Frank! Frank!"

Three mortals thus juggling with years as though they were billiard balls, and my friend, the reporter, couldn't see anything funny in it!

🔆 Otros cuentos:

Adblock test (Why?)

El tiempo futuro en inglés

El tiempo futuro no es un tiempo gramatical en inglés. Este tiempo no existe como tal en la lengua inglesa, pero se construye con diferentes palabras. Por ejemplo con WILL, que es la forma más común de expresar el futuro. También hay que ir a por el futuro inmediato. A veces incluso utilizamos el tiempo presente para hablar del futuro. Por ejemplo: What are you doing tomorrow?

Will

Construcción:

La palabra will es un modal. Es la palabra más común para hablar en tiempo futuro. Una frase en tiempo futuro con will se construye de la siguiente manera:

Sujeto + WILL + Base Verbal.

I will cook for lunch. Voy a cocinar para el almuerzo.

Después de WILL, como después de todos los modales, los verbos son INVARIABLES, y nunca se poneTO.

Forma negativa :

I will not cook for lunch.

I won’t cook for lunch. (forma contraída).

Forma interrogativa:

La voluntad toma el papel de auxiliar, por lo que no son necesarios los auxiliares hacer, tener o ser.

Will you cook for lunch?

¿Cuándo se usa?

Will se utiliza para hablar de un futuro casi seguro (por ejemplo: I will be 30 next year).
También se utiliza para enfatizar la expresión de la voluntad. Implica que la decisión se acaba de tomar. (Si la decisión es anterior al momento de hablar, no se suele usar).

Ejemplo: I will have an ice coffe. Tomaré un café con hielo.

Be going to + Verbo

I am going to write. - Voy a escribir.

I am going to run soon. - Voy a correr pronto.

También se utiliza para hacer predicciones basadas en pistas presentes. Por ejemplo: Be careful, you’re going to burnt! - ¡Ten cuidado, te vas a quemar!

Por último, se utiliza cuando la decisión se ha tomado antes del momento de hablar (a diferencia de la voluntad, que se utiliza para expresar una decisión que se acaba de tomar). Por ejemplo: I am going to take a coffee cup.

Por último, be going to + verbo puede utilizarse cuando se da una orden, o se utiliza una forma de autoridad.

Now you’re going to get in the bus and leave this village as soon as you can. Ahora vas a subir al autobús y dejar este pueblo tan pronto como puedas.

Ten en cuenta que en el lenguaje coloquial, going to se dice a veces gonna. Por ejemplo: You’re gonna go - o - you gonna go.

Otras formas de hablar en el futuro:

A veces se utiliza el presente para hablar en futuro.

Ejemplo: The train arrives today at 5pm. El barco llega hoy a las 17 horas.

Hablar de una acción que realmente está a punto de ocurrir.

Hello? Good morning Cris, I was just about to call you! - Hola? Buenos días Cris, ¡estaba a punto de llamarte! 

🔆 También te puede interesar:

• Cómo preguntar y expresar la posesión en inglés
• Cómo usar May y might - Verbos modales
• Conditionals in English - El condicional en Inglés
• Adjetivos y pronombres demostrativos en Inglés
• Pronombres Posesivos en inglés - Possessive Pronouns
• Adjetivos Posesivos en Inglés - Possessive adjectives
• ¿Cómo aprender inglés fácil y desde casa?
• Plural de los sustantivos en inglés
• Many more, a lot more y Much more. Usos en inglés
• ¿Qué son los phrasal verbs en inglés? Los más usados
• Cómo expresar opiniones en inglés
• Uso de whose en inglés - Pronombres relativos
• Who, which y that - Pronombres Relativos en inglés
• Was going to - El futuro en el pasado
• DO y MAKE en inglés ¿Cuáles son las diferencias?
• Cuándo usar Since, For, Ago: ¿Cuáles son las diferencias?
• The Gerund - El gerundio en inglés
• El Imperativo en Inglés - Imperative
• El comparativo y el superlativo en inglés
• Preguntas con WH-Questions 01 - What, where, why, who
• Preguntas con WH-Questions 02 - When, Which, Whose, How
• Cómo expresar cantidades en inglés
• Adjectives - Los Adjetivos en Inglés
• Uso de some / any acompañando nombres contables/incontables
• Modal verbs - Verbos modales en inglés
• El tiempo futuro en inglés
• Present Perfect Progressive - Presente perfecto progresivo
• Present perfect - El presente perfecto inglés
• Pretérito progresivo o continuo en inglés
• Simple past - El pretérito o pasado simple en inglés
• Presente continuo - Forma Afirmativa - English grammar
• Presente continuo - Forma Negativa
• Puntuación en inglés - All about punctuation in English
• Los verbos Auxiliares en inglés - Auxiliary Verbs
• Verbos irregulares en inglés, la lista que debes conocer
• Cómo decir la fecha en inglés - How to say the date in English
• Construir frases simples - To build a simple sentence
• Nombres contables e incontables en inglés
• Presente continuo - Forma Interrogativa
• Cómo Preguntar y decir el precio en inglés

Adblock test (Why?)

Sredni Vashtar - Saki - Classic Stories

Recursos Educativos en Inglés - Stories in English

Cuentos clásicos en inglés

Sredni Vashtar - Saki

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor was silky and effete, and counted for little, but his opinion was endorsed by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, in perpetual antagonism to the foregoing, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the mastering pressure of wearisome necessary things - such as illnesses and coddling restrictions and drawn-out dullness. Without his imagination, which was rampant under the spur of loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.

Mrs. De Ropp would never, in her honestest moments, have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though she might have been dimly aware that thwarting him 'for his good' was a duty which she did not find particularly irksome. Conradin hated her with a desperate sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained an added relish from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian, and from the realm of his imagination she was locked out - an unclean thing, which should find no entrance.

In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, or a reminder that medicines were due, he found little attraction. The few fruit-trees that it contained were set jealously apart from his plucking, as though they were rare specimens of their kind blooming in an arid waste; it would probably have been difficult to find a market-gardener who would have offered ten shillings for their entire yearly produce. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a dismal shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed of respectable proportions, and within its walls Conradin found a haven, something that took on the varying aspects of a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with a legion of familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch, divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret, which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for a long-secreted hoard of small silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the lithe, sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept scrupulously from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed his cousin. And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite in the House of Rimmon. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped with mystic and elaborate ceremonial before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid some special stress on the fierce impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which, as far as Conradin could observe, went to great lengths in the contrary direction. And on great festivals powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch, an important feature of the offering being that the nutmeg had to be stolen. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache. If the malady had lasted for another day the supply of nutmeg would have given out.
The Houdan hen was never drawn into the cult of Sredni Vashtar. Conradin had long ago settled that she was an Anabaptist. He did not pretend to have the remotest knowledge as to what an Anabaptist was, but he privately hoped that it was dashing and not very respectable. Mrs. De Ropp was the ground plan on which he based and detested all respectability.

After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian. "It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers," she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow, which she was ready to rebuke with a flow of excellent precepts and reasoning. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him; also because the making of it "gave trouble," a deadly offence in the middle-class feminine eye.

"I thought you liked toast," she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.

"Sometimes," said Conradin.

In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont to chant his praises, tonight be asked a boon.

"Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar."

The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.

And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany went up: "Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar."
Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.

"What are you keeping in that locked hutch?" she asked. "I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away."

Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and forthwith marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen beyond the corner of the shrubbery, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well on her face, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly the hymn of his threatened idol:

Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.

And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the paean of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a little plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.
"Tea is ready," said the sour-faced maid; "where is the mistress?"

"She went down to the shed some time ago," said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork out of the sideboard drawer and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus of wondering ejaculations from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried embassies for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling tread of those who bore a heavy burden into the house.

"Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!" exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.

🔆 Otros cuentos:

Adblock test (Why?)

The Mouse - Saki - Classic Stories

Recursos Educativos en Inglés - Stories in English

Cuentos clásicos en inglés

The Mouse - Saki

Theodoric Voler had been brought up, from infancy to the confines of middle age, by a fond mother whose chief solicitude had been to keep him screened from what she called the coarser realities of life. When she died she left Theodoric alone in a world that was as real as ever, and a good deal coarser than he considered it had any need to be. To a man of his temperament and upbringing even a simple railway journey was crammed with petty annoyances and minor discords, and as he settled himself down in a second-class compartment one September morning he was conscious of ruffled feelings and general mental discomposure.

He had been staying at a country vicarage, the inmates of which had been certainly neither brutal nor bacchanalian, but their supervision of the domestic establishment had been of that lax order which invites disaster. The pony carriage that was to take him to the station had never been properly ordered, and when the moment for his departure drew near, the handyman who should have produced the required article was nowhere to be found. In this emergency Theodoric, to his mute but very intense disgust, found himself obliged to collaborate with the vicar's daughter in the task of harnessing the pony, which necessitated groping about in an ill-lighted outbuilding called a stable, and smelling very like one - except in patches where it smelled of mice. Without being actually afraid of mice, Theodoric classed them among the coarser incidents of life, and considered that Providence, with a little exercise of moral courage, might long ago have recognised that they were not indispensable, and have withdrawn them from circulation.

As the train glided out of the station Theodoric's nervous imagination accused himself of exhaling a weak odour of stable yard, and possibly of displaying a mouldy straw or two on his unusually well-brushed garments. Fortunately the only other occupation of the compartment, a lady of about the same age as himself, seemed inclined for slumber rather than scrutiny; the train was not due to stop till the terminus was reached, in about an hour's time, and the carriage was of the old-fashioned sort that held no communication with a corridor, therefore no further travelling companions were likely to intrude on Theodoric's semiprivacy. And yet the train had scarcely attained its normal speed before he became reluctantly but vividly aware that he was not alone with the slumbering lady; he was not even alone in his own clothes.
A warm, creeping movement over his flesh betrayed the unwelcome and highly resented presence, unseen but poignant, of a strayed mouse, that had evidently dashed into its present retreat during the episode of the pony harnessing. Furtive stamps and shakes and wildly directed pinches failed to dislodge the intruder, whose motto, indeed, seemed to be Excelsior; and the lawful occupant of the clothes lay back against the cushions and endeavoured rapidly to evolve some means for putting an end to the dual ownership. It was unthinkable that he should continue for the space of a whole hour in the horrible position of a Rowton House for vagrant mice (already his imagination had at least doubled the numbers of the alien invasion). On the other hand, nothing less drastic than partial disrobing would ease him of his tormentor, and to undress in the presence of a lady, even for so laudable a purpose, was an idea that made his ear tips tingle in a blush of abject shame. He had never been able to bring himself even to the mild exposure of open-work socks in the presence of the fair sex. And yet - the lady in this case was to all appearances soundly and securely asleep; the mouse, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to crowd a wanderjahr into a few strenuous minutes. If there is any truth in the theory of transmigration, this particular mouse must certainly have been in a former state a member of the Alpine Club. Sometimes in its eagerness it lost its footing and slipped for half an inch or so; and then, in fright, or more probably temper, it bit. Theodoric was goaded into the most audacious undertaking of his life. Crimsoning to the hue of a beetroot and keeping an agonised watch on his slumbering fellow traveller, he swiftly and noiselessly secured the ends of his railway rug to the racks on either side of the carriage, so that a substantial curtain hung athwart the compartment. In the narrow dressing room that he had thus improvised he proceeded with violent haste to extricate himself partially and the mouse entirely from the surrounding casings of tweed and half-wool.

As the unravelled mouse gave a wild leap to the floor, the rug, slipping its fastening at either end, also came down with a heart-curdling flop, and almost simultaneously the awakened sleeper opened her eyes. With a movement almost quicker than the mouse's, Theodoric pounced on the rug and hauled its ample folds chin-high over his dismantled person as he collapsed into the farther corner of the carriage. The blood raced and beat in the veins of his neck and forehead, while he waited dumbly for the communication cord to be pulled. The lady, however, contented herself with a silent stare at her strangely muffled companion. How much had she seen, Theodoric queried to himself; and in any case what on earth must she think of his present posture?
"I think I have caught a chill," he ventured desperately.

"Really, I'm sorry," she replied. "I was just going to ask you if you would open this window."

"I fancy it's malaria," he added, his teeth chattering slightly, as much from fright as from a desire to support his theory.

"I've got some brandy in my holdall, if you'll kindly reach it down for me," said his companion.

"Not for worlds - I mean, I never take anything for it," he assured her earnestly.

"I suppose you caught it in the tropics?"

Theodoric, whose acquaintance with the tropics was limited to an annual present of a chest of tea from an uncle in Ceylon, felt that even the malaria was slipping from him. Would it be possible, he wondered to disclose the real state of affairs to her in small instalments?

"Are you afraid of mice?" he ventured, growing, if possible, more scarlet in the face.

"Not unless they came in quantities. Why do you ask?"

"I had one crawling inside my clothes just now," said Theodoric in a voice that hardly seemed his own. "It was a most awkward situation."

"It must have been, if you wear your clothes at all tight," she observed. "But mice have strange ideas of comfort."

"I had to get rid of it while you were asleep," he continued. Then, with a gulp, he added, "It was getting rid of it that brought me to - to this."

"Surely leaving off one small mouse wouldn't bring on a chill," she exclaimed, with a levity that Theodoric accounted abominable.

Evidently she had detected something of his predicament, and was enjoying his confusion. All the blood in his body seemed to have mobilised in one concentrated blush, and an agony of abasement, worse than a myriad mice, crept up and down over his soul. And then, as reflection began to assert itself, sheer terror took the place of humiliation. With every minute that passed the train was rushing nearer to the crowded and bustling terminus, where dozens of prying eyes would be exchanged for the one paralysing pair that watched him from the farther corner of the carriage. There was one slender, despairing chance, which the next few minutes must decide. His fellow traveller might relapse into a blessed slumber. But as the minutes throbbed by that chance ebbed away. The furtive glance which Theodoric stole at her from time to time disclosed only an unwinking wakefulness.
"I think we must be getting near now," she presently observed.

Theodoric had already noted with growing terror the recurring stacks of small, ugly dwellings that heralded the journey's end. The words acted as a signal. Like a hunted beast breaking cover and dashing madly toward some other haven of momentary safety he threw aside his rug, and struggled frantically into his dishevelled garments. He was conscious of dull suburban stations racing past the window, of a choking, hammering sensation in his throat and heart, and of an icy silence in that corner toward which he dared not look. Then as he sank back in his seat, clothed and almost delirious, the train slowed down to a final crawl, and the woman spoke.
"Would you be so kind," she asked, "as to get me a porter to put me into a cab? It's a shame to trouble you when you're feeling unwell, but being blind makes one so helpless at a railway station."

🔆 Otros cuentos:

Adblock test (Why?)