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Digital technologies have profoundly changed childhood and adolescence. The internet and the means to access it, such as tablets and smartphones, along with social media platforms and messaging apps, have become integral to the lives of youth around the world. They have transformed their education and learning the way make and maintain friendship, how they spend their leisure time, and their engagement with wider society. UNICEF's State of the world's Children 2017 : Children in a Digital World report reveals that one in three internet users is younger 18 years and 71% of 15-24-year-olds are online, making them the most connected age group worldwide. However, the so-called digital divide is substantial: 346 million youth are not online, with African adolescents the most affected (60% are not connected compared with 4% in Europe). Young people who lack digital skills, live in remote regions, or speak a minority language are also being left behind in harnessing the opportunities.

Some children have never been online or have little access and are missing out on the benefits of connectivity.

Digital advances have their flip side too. Bullying is no longer left at the school gates; cyberbullying is a new method for bullies to hurt and humilite their victims with the click of a button. Words and images posted online that are designed to cause harm are also difficult to delete, increasing the risk of re-victimisation.

Concerns have also been raised about the time children spend using digital technology and its effect on their physical activity and mental health. Evidence suggests moderate use of digital technology can be beneficial to children's mental wellbeing, whereas excessive use can be detrimental. Children's social relationships seem to be enhanced by digital technology, especially since most of their social circle is now online. Evidence on physical activity is mixed. And better research is needed in this area.

Despite these issues, the popularity and use of digital technologies will continue to grow. However, an intergenerational gap exists in digital knowledge and literacy. Teachers and parents need training to teach digital skills and online safety to children. They are also crucial to helping young people assess reliable news and information sources and navigate the pressures social media, as highlighted in a report released on Jan 4 by England's Children's Commissioner. Schools are also an important forum for discussing cyberbullying, anti-bullying programmes need to include online harassment.

Children and adolescents must be the priority of national and global digital policies, not only to protect them from online harm but also to allow technology to help them fulfil their full potential.

It was raining when Rahel came back to Ayemenem. Slanting silver ropes slammed into loose earth, plowing it up like gunfire. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. In the undergrowth a rat snake rubbed itself against a glistening stone. Hopeful yellow bullfrogs cruised the scummy pond for mates. A drenched mongoose flashed across the leaf-strewn driveway.

The house itself looked empty. The doors and window were locked. The front verendah bare unfurnished. But the skyblue Plymouth with chrome tailfins was still parked outside, and inside, Baby Kochamma was still alive.

She was Rahel's baby grandaunt, her grandfather's younger sister. Her name was really Navomi, Navomi Ipe, but every body called her Baby. She became Baby Kochamma when she was old enough to be an aunt.

Rahel hadn't come to see her, though. Neither niece nor baby grandaunt labored under any illusions on that account. Rahel had come to see her brother, Estha. They were two-egg twins. "Dizygotic" doctors called them. Born from separate but simultaneously fertilized eggs. Estha-- Esthappen-- was the older by eighteen minutes.

They never did look much like each other, Estha and Rahel, and even when they were thin-armed children, flat-chasted, wormridden and Elvis presley-puffed, there was none of the usual " Who is who ?" and "Which is which?" from oversmilling relatives or the Syrian Orthodox bishops who frequently visited the Ayemenem House for donations.

The confusion lay in a deeper, more secret place.

It was raining when Rahel came back to Ayemenem. Slanting silver ropes slammed into loose earth, plowing it up like gunfire. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. In the undergrowth a rat snake rubbed itself against a glistening stone. Hopeful yellow bullfrogs cruised the scummy pond for mates. A drenched mongoose flashed across the leaf-strewn driveway.

The house itself looked empty. The doors and window were locked. The front verendah bare unfurnished. But the skyblue Plymouth with chrome tailfins was still parked outside, and inside, Baby Kochamma was still alive.

She was Rahel's baby grandaunt, her grandfather's younger sister. Her name was really Navomi, Navomi Ipe, but every body called her Baby. She became Baby Kochamma when she was old enough to be an aunt.

Rahel hadn't come to see her, though. Neither niece nor baby grandaunt labored under any illusions on that account. Rahel had come to see her brother, Estha. They were two-egg twins. "Dizygotic" doctors called them. Born from separate but simultaneously fertilized eggs. Estha-- Esthappen-- was the older by eighteen minutes.

They never did look much like each other, Estha and Rahel, and even when they were thin-armed children, flat-chasted, wormridden and Elvis presley-puffed, there was none of the usual " Who is who ?" and "Which is which?" from oversmilling relatives or the Syrian Orthodox bishops who frequently visited the Ayemenem House for donations.

The confusion lay in a deeper, more secret place.

It was raining when Rahel came back to Ayemenem. Slanting silver ropes slammed into loose earth, plowing it up like gunfire. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. In the undergrowth a rat snake rubbed itself against a glistening stone. Hopeful yellow bullfrogs cruised the scummy pond for mates. A drenched mongoose flashed across the leaf-strewn driveway.

The house itself looked empty. The doors and window were locked. The front verendah bare unfurnished. But the skyblue Plymouth with chrome tailfins was still parked outside, and inside, Baby Kochamma was still alive.

She was Rahel's baby grandaunt, her grandfather's younger sister. Her name was really Navomi, Navomi Ipe, but every body called her Baby. She became Baby Kochamma when she was old enough to be an aunt.

Rahel hadn't come to see her, though. Neither niece nor baby grandaunt labored under any illusions on that account. Rahel had come to see her brother, Estha. They were two-egg twins. "Dizygotic" doctors called them. Born from separate but simultaneously fertilized eggs. Estha-- Esthappen-- was the older by eighteen minutes.

They never did look much like each other, Estha and Rahel, and even when they were thin-armed children, flat-chasted, wormridden and Elvis presley-puffed, there was none of the usual " Who is who ?" and "Which is which?" from oversmilling relatives or the Syrian Orthodox bishops who frequently visited the Ayemenem House for donations.

The confusion lay in a deeper, more secret place.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

The small village of Somnathpur contains an extraordinary temple, built around AD 1268 by the Hoysalas of Karnataka-one of the most prolific temple builders. Belur and Helebidu are among their better-known works. While these suffered during the invasion of the 14th century, the Somnathpur temple stands more or less intact in near-original condition. This small temple captivates with the beauty and vitality of its detailed sculpture, covering almost every inch of the walls, pillars, and even ceilings. It has three Shikaras and stands on a star-shaped, raised platform with 24 edges. The outer walls have a profusion of detailed carvings: the entire surface run over by carved plaques of stone. There are vertical panels covered by exquisite figures of gods and goddesses, with many incarnations being depicted. There are nymphs too, some carrying an ear of maize, a symbol of plenty and prosperity. The elaborate ornamentation, very characteristic of the Hoysala sculptures, is a remarkable feature. A closer look at the series of friezes on the outer walls reveal intricately carved caparisoned elephants, charging horsemen, stylized flowers, warriors, musicians crocodiles and swans.

The temple was actually commissioned by Sona Dandanayaka or Somnath (who named the village after himself), the minister of the Hoysala king, Narsimha the third. The temple was built to house three forms of Vishnu. The inner centre of the temple was the kalyanamandapa. Leading from here are three corridors, each ending in a shrine, one for each form of Vishnu-Venugopala, Janardana and Prasanna Keshava, though only two remain in their original form.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

The small village of Somnathpur contains an extraordinary temple, built around AD 1268 by the Hoysalas of Karnataka-one of the most prolific temple builders. Belur and Helebidu are among their better-known works. While these suffered during the invasion of the 14th century, the Somnathpur temple stands more or less intact in near-original condition. This small temple captivates with the beauty and vitality of its detailed sculpture, covering almost every inch of the walls, pillars, and even ceilings. It has three Shikaras and stands on a star-shaped, raised platform with 24 edges. The outer walls have a profusion of detailed carvings: the entire surface run over by carved plaques of stone. There are vertical panels covered by exquisite figures of gods and goddesses, with many incarnations being depicted. There are nymphs too, some carrying an ear of maize, a symbol of plenty and prosperity. The elaborate ornamentation, very characteristic of the Hoysala sculptures, is a remarkable feature. A closer look at the series of friezes on the outer walls reveal intricately carved caparisoned elephants, charging horsemen, stylized flowers, warriors, musicians crocodiles and swans.

The temple was actually commissioned by Sona Dandanayaka or Somnath (who named the village after himself), the minister of the Hoysala king, Narsimha the third. The temple was built to house three forms of Vishnu. The inner centre of the temple was the kalyanamandapa. Leading from here are three corridors, each ending in a shrine, one for each form of Vishnu-Venugopala, Janardana and Prasanna Keshava, though only two remain in their original form.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

The small village of Somnathpur contains an extraordinary temple, built around AD 1268 by the Hoysalas of Karnataka-one of the most prolific temple builders. Belur and Helebidu are among their better-known works. While these suffered during the invasion of the 14th century, the Somnathpur temple stands more or less intact in near-original condition. This small temple captivates with the beauty and vitality of its detailed sculpture, covering almost every inch of the walls, pillars, and even ceilings. It has three Shikaras and stands on a star-shaped, raised platform with 24 edges. The outer walls have a profusion of detailed carvings: the entire surface run over by carved plaques of stone. There are vertical panels covered by exquisite figures of gods and goddesses, with many incarnations being depicted. There are nymphs too, some carrying an ear of maize, a symbol of plenty and prosperity. The elaborate ornamentation, very characteristic of the Hoysala sculptures, is a remarkable feature. A closer look at the series of friezes on the outer walls reveal intricately carved caparisoned elephants, charging horsemen, stylized flowers, warriors, musicians crocodiles and swans.

The temple was actually commissioned by Sona Dandanayaka or Somnath (who named the village after himself), the minister of the Hoysala king, Narsimha the third. The temple was built to house three forms of Vishnu. The inner centre of the temple was the kalyanamandapa. Leading from here are three corridors, each ending in a shrine, one for each form of Vishnu-Venugopala, Janardana and Prasanna Keshava, though only two remain in their original form.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

The small village of Somnathpur contains an extraordinary temple, built around AD 1268 by the Hoysalas of Karnataka-one of the most prolific temple builders. Belur and Helebidu are among their better-known works. While these suffered during the invasion of the 14th century, the Somnathpur temple stands more or less intact in near-original condition. This small temple captivates with the beauty and vitality of its detailed sculpture, covering almost every inch of the walls, pillars, and even ceilings. It has three Shikaras and stands on a star-shaped, raised platform with 24 edges. The outer walls have a profusion of detailed carvings: the entire surface run over by carved plaques of stone. There are vertical panels covered by exquisite figures of gods and goddesses, with many incarnations being depicted. There are nymphs too, some carrying an ear of maize, a symbol of plenty and prosperity. The elaborate ornamentation, very characteristic of the Hoysala sculptures, is a remarkable feature. A closer look at the series of friezes on the outer walls reveal intricately carved caparisoned elephants, charging horsemen, stylized flowers, warriors, musicians crocodiles and swans.

The temple was actually commissioned by Sona Dandanayaka or Somnath (who named the village after himself), the minister of the Hoysala king, Narsimha the third. The temple was built to house three forms of Vishnu. The inner centre of the temple was the kalyanamandapa. Leading from here are three corridors, each ending in a shrine, one for each form of Vishnu-Venugopala, Janardana and Prasanna Keshava, though only two remain in their original form.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

I had never seen a house on fire before. So, one evening when I heard fire engines with loud alarm bells rushing past my house, I quickly ran out and, a few streets away, joined a large crowed of people, but we could see the fire only from a distance because the police would not allow any one near the building on fire.

What a terrible scene I saw that day. Huge flames of fire were coming out of each floor, and black and thick smoke spread all around. Every now and then tongues of fire would shoot up almost sky-high, sending huge sparks of fire all around.

Three fire engines were busily engaged and the firemen in their dark uniforms were playing the hose on various parts of the building. Then the tall red ladders of the fire engine were stretched upwards and could see some firemen climbing up with hoses in their hands. On reaching almost the top of the ladder, they began to pour floods of water on the topmost part of the building. This continuous flooding brought the fire under control but the building was completely destroyed.

While fire is a blessing in many ways, it can also be a great danger to human life and property.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

I had never seen a house on fire before. So, one evening when I heard fire engines with loud alarm bells rushing past my house, I quickly ran out and, a few streets away, joined a large crowed of people, but we could see the fire only from a distance because the police would not allow any one near the building on fire.

What a terrible scene I saw that day. Huge flames of fire were coming out of each floor, and black and thick smoke spread all around. Every now and then tongues of fire would shoot up almost sky-high, sending huge sparks of fire all around.

Three fire engines were busily engaged and the firemen in their dark uniforms were playing the hose on various parts of the building. Then the tall red ladders of the fire engine were stretched upwards and could see some firemen climbing up with hoses in their hands. On reaching almost the top of the ladder, they began to pour floods of water on the topmost part of the building. This continuous flooding brought the fire under control but the building was completely destroyed.

While fire is a blessing in many ways, it can also be a great danger to human life and property.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

I had never seen a house on fire before. So, one evening when I heard fire engines with loud alarm bells rushing past my house, I quickly ran out and, a few streets away, joined a large crowed of people, but we could see the fire only from a distance because the police would not allow any one near the building on fire.

What a terrible scene I saw that day. Huge flames of fire were coming out of each floor, and black and thick smoke spread all around. Every now and then tongues of fire would shoot up almost sky-high, sending huge sparks of fire all around.

Three fire engines were busily engaged and the firemen in their dark uniforms were playing the hose on various parts of the building. Then the tall red ladders of the fire engine were stretched upwards and could see some firemen climbing up with hoses in their hands. On reaching almost the top of the ladder, they began to pour floods of water on the topmost part of the building. This continuous flooding brought the fire under control but the building was completely destroyed.

While fire is a blessing in many ways, it can also be a great danger to human life and property.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

I had never seen a house on fire before. So, one evening when I heard fire engines with loud alarm bells rushing past my house, I quickly ran out and, a few streets away, joined a large crowed of people, but we could see the fire only from a distance because the police would not allow any one near the building on fire.

What a terrible scene I saw that day. Huge flames of fire were coming out of each floor, and black and thick smoke spread all around. Every now and then tongues of fire would shoot up almost sky-high, sending huge sparks of fire all around.

Three fire engines were busily engaged and the firemen in their dark uniforms were playing the hose on various parts of the building. Then the tall red ladders of the fire engine were stretched upwards and could see some firemen climbing up with hoses in their hands. On reaching almost the top of the ladder, they began to pour floods of water on the topmost part of the building. This continuous flooding brought the fire under control but the building was completely destroyed.

While fire is a blessing in many ways, it can also be a great danger to human life and property.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

When I was a small child my grandparents would take me blackberry picking. It was usually late August when the blackberries had fully ripened. Grandad would drive us in his old van. Despite not being comfortable or particularly safe, Grandad's van had a character you would not find in a sleek new car, complete with the latest innovations and a silent engine. Being seven or eight at the time, I always enjoyed a trip as we bounced along to our destination.

My grandparents always chose the same spot. Wild blackberry bushes stretched along the roadside as far as the eye could see in both directions. The road overlooked a small pitch and putt course. On such sunny summer days it was always full. Golfers ambled sedately from hole to hole and the crack of metal striking ball was a constant accompaniment.

Several hours of picking berries ensued. Nana warned me not to eat any until they had all been washed, but turned a knowing blind eye while I gorged anyway. I also helped myself to the occasional unripe red berry as I had a particular taste for anything bitter. The fully immature green berries proved a step too far for even my palate and were merely unpleasant.

When at last we were finished the bright scenery had turned to lengthy shadows and the afternoon had elapsed into evening. Grandad hauled a big bag half full of berries back to the van. Juice bled slowly onto the ground. Nana would later make apple and blackberry tarts and fill several jars with jam. When I reached the van my stomach hurt from too much fruit. My hands stung from constant thorn pricks and were stained dark purple. I always enjoyed those days.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

When I was a small child my grandparents would take me blackberry picking. It was usually late August when the blackberries had fully ripened. Grandad would drive us in his old van. Despite not being comfortable or particularly safe, Grandad's van had a character you would not find in a sleek new car, complete with the latest innovations and a silent engine. Being seven or eight at the time, I always enjoyed a trip as we bounced along to our destination.

My grandparents always chose the same spot. Wild blackberry bushes stretched along the roadside as far as the eye could see in both directions. The road overlooked a small pitch and putt course. On such sunny summer days it was always full. Golfers ambled sedately from hole to hole and the crack of metal striking ball was a constant accompaniment.

Several hours of picking berries ensued. Nana warned me not to eat any until they had all been washed, but turned a knowing blind eye while I gorged anyway. I also helped myself to the occasional unripe red berry as I had a particular taste for anything bitter. The fully immature green berries proved a step too far for even my palate and were merely unpleasant.

When at last we were finished the bright scenery had turned to lengthy shadows and the afternoon had elapsed into evening. Grandad hauled a big bag half full of berries back to the van. Juice bled slowly onto the ground. Nana would later make apple and blackberry tarts and fill several jars with jam. When I reached the van my stomach hurt from too much fruit. My hands stung from constant thorn pricks and were stained dark purple. I always enjoyed those days.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

When I was a small child my grandparents would take me blackberry picking. It was usually late August when the blackberries had fully ripened. Grandad would drive us in his old van. Despite not being comfortable or particularly safe, Grandad's van had a character you would not find in a sleek new car, complete with the latest innovations and a silent engine. Being seven or eight at the time, I always enjoyed a trip as we bounced along to our destination.

My grandparents always chose the same spot. Wild blackberry bushes stretched along the roadside as far as the eye could see in both directions. The road overlooked a small pitch and putt course. On such sunny summer days it was always full. Golfers ambled sedately from hole to hole and the crack of metal striking ball was a constant accompaniment.

Several hours of picking berries ensued. Nana warned me not to eat any until they had all been washed, but turned a knowing blind eye while I gorged anyway. I also helped myself to the occasional unripe red berry as I had a particular taste for anything bitter. The fully immature green berries proved a step too far for even my palate and were merely unpleasant.

When at last we were finished the bright scenery had turned to lengthy shadows and the afternoon had elapsed into evening. Grandad hauled a big bag half full of berries back to the van. Juice bled slowly onto the ground. Nana would later make apple and blackberry tarts and fill several jars with jam. When I reached the van my stomach hurt from too much fruit. My hands stung from constant thorn pricks and were stained dark purple. I always enjoyed those days.

Read the given passage and answer the questions that follow:-

When I was a small child my grandparents would take me blackberry picking. It was usually late August when the blackberries had fully ripened. Grandad would drive us in his old van. Despite not being comfortable or particularly safe, Grandad's van had a character you would not find in a sleek new car, complete with the latest innovations and a silent engine. Being seven or eight at the time, I always enjoyed a trip as we bounced along to our destination.

My grandparents always chose the same spot. Wild blackberry bushes stretched along the roadside as far as the eye could see in both directions. The road overlooked a small pitch and putt course. On such sunny summer days it was always full. Golfers ambled sedately from hole to hole and the crack of metal striking ball was a constant accompaniment.

Several hours of picking berries ensued. Nana warned me not to eat any until they had all been washed, but turned a knowing blind eye while I gorged anyway. I also helped myself to the occasional unripe red berry as I had a particular taste for anything bitter. The fully immature green berries proved a step too far for even my palate and were merely unpleasant.

When at last we were finished the bright scenery had turned to lengthy shadows and the afternoon had elapsed into evening. Grandad hauled a big bag half full of berries back to the van. Juice bled slowly onto the ground. Nana would later make apple and blackberry tarts and fill several jars with jam. When I reached the van my stomach hurt from too much fruit. My hands stung from constant thorn pricks and were stained dark purple. I always enjoyed those days.

I know I'm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I ride my bike. I play ball. I have an Xbox. Stuff like that makes me ordinary. I guess. And I feel ordinary. Inside But I know ordinary kids don't make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. I know ordinary kids don't get stared at wherever they go.

If I found a magic lamp and I could have one wish, I would wish that I had a normal face that no one ever noticed at all. I would wish that I could walk down the street without people seeing me and then doing that look-away thing. Here's what I think: the only reason I'm not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way. But I'm kind of used to how I look by now. I know how to pretend.

I don't see the faces people make. We've all gotten pretty good at that sort of thing: me, Mom, Dad Via. Actually, I take that back: Via's not so good at it. She can get really annoyed when people do something rude. Like, for instance, one time in the playground some older kids made some noises. I don't even know what the noises were exactly because I didn't hear them myself, but Via heard and she just started yelling at the kids. That's the way she is. I'm not that way.

I know I'm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I ride my bike. I play ball. I have an Xbox. Stuff like that makes me ordinary. I guess. And I feel ordinary. Inside But I know ordinary kids don't make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. I know ordinary kids don't get stared at wherever they go.

If I found a magic lamp and I could have one wish, I would wish that I had a normal face that no one ever noticed at all. I would wish that I could walk down the street without people seeing me and then doing that look-away thing. Here's what I think: the only reason I'm not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way. But I'm kind of used to how I look by now. I know how to pretend.

I don't see the faces people make. We've all gotten pretty good at that sort of thing: me, Mom, Dad Via. Actually, I take that back: Via's not so good at it. She can get really annoyed when people do something rude. Like, for instance, one time in the playground some older kids made some noises. I don't even know what the noises were exactly because I didn't hear them myself, but Via heard and she just started yelling at the kids. That's the way she is. I'm not that way.

I know I'm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I ride my bike. I play ball. I have an Xbox. Stuff like that makes me ordinary. I guess. And I feel ordinary. Inside But I know ordinary kids don't make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. I know ordinary kids don't get stared at wherever they go.

If I found a magic lamp and I could have one wish, I would wish that I had a normal face that no one ever noticed at all. I would wish that I could walk down the street without people seeing me and then doing that look-away thing. Here's what I think: the only reason I'm not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way. But I'm kind of used to how I look by now. I know how to pretend.

I don't see the faces people make. We've all gotten pretty good at that sort of thing: me, Mom, Dad Via. Actually, I take that back: Via's not so good at it. She can get really annoyed when people do something rude. Like, for instance, one time in the playground some older kids made some noises. I don't even know what the noises were exactly because I didn't hear them myself, but Via heard and she just started yelling at the kids. That's the way she is. I'm not that way.

I know I'm not an ordinary ten-year-old kid. I mean sure, I do ordinary things. I eat ice cream. I ride my bike. I play ball. I have an Xbox. Stuff like that makes me ordinary. I guess. And I feel ordinary. Inside But I know ordinary kids don't make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. I know ordinary kids don't get stared at wherever they go.

If I found a magic lamp and I could have one wish, I would wish that I had a normal face that no one ever noticed at all. I would wish that I could walk down the street without people seeing me and then doing that look-away thing. Here's what I think: the only reason I'm not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way. But I'm kind of used to how I look by now. I know how to pretend.

I don't see the faces people make. We've all gotten pretty good at that sort of thing: me, Mom, Dad Via. Actually, I take that back: Via's not so good at it. She can get really annoyed when people do something rude. Like, for instance, one time in the playground some older kids made some noises. I don't even know what the noises were exactly because I didn't hear them myself, but Via heard and she just started yelling at the kids. That's the way she is. I'm not that way.

She ate a few mouthfuls of food and drank a cup of milk. But she lighted no fire, and when night came, no candle, but crept with her baby to bed.

What woke her? The wonder was that she had slept-she had not meant to. But she was young, very young. Perhaps the shrinking of the galvanized roof-yet hardly, since that was so usual. Something had set her heart beating wildly; but she lay quite still, only she put her arm over her baby. Then she had both round it, and she prayed, "Little baby, little baby, don't wake!"

The moon's rays shone on the front of the house, and she saw one of the open crackes, quite close to where she lay, darken with a shadow. Then a protesting growl reached her; and she could fancy she heard the man turn hastily. She plainly heard the thud of something striking the dog's ribs, and the long flying strides of the animal as it howled and ran. Still watching, she saw the shadow darken every crack along the wall. She knew by the sounds that the man was trying every standpoint that might help him to see in; but how much he saw she could not tell. She thought of many things she might do to deceive him into the idea that she was not alone. But the sound of her voice would wake baby, and she dreaded that as though it were the only danger that threatened her. So she prayed "Little baby, don't wake don't cry!"

She ate a few mouthfuls of food and drank a cup of milk. But she lighted no fire, and when night came, no candle, but crept with her baby to bed.

What woke her? The wonder was that she had slept-she had not meant to. But she was young, very young. Perhaps the shrinking of the galvanized roof-yet hardly, since that was so usual. Something had set her heart beating wildly; but she lay quite still, only she put her arm over her baby. Then she had both round it, and she prayed, "Little baby, little baby, don't wake!"

The moon's rays shone on the front of the house, and she saw one of the open crackes, quite close to where she lay, darken with a shadow. Then a protesting growl reached her; and she could fancy she heard the man turn hastily. She plainly heard the thud of something striking the dog's ribs, and the long flying strides of the animal as it howled and ran. Still watching, she saw the shadow darken every crack along the wall. She knew by the sounds that the man was trying every standpoint that might help him to see in; but how much he saw she could not tell. She thought of many things she might do to deceive him into the idea that she was not alone. But the sound of her voice would wake baby, and she dreaded that as though it were the only danger that threatened her. So she prayed "Little baby, don't wake don't cry!"

She ate a few mouthfuls of food and drank a cup of milk. But she lighted no fire, and when night came, no candle, but crept with her baby to bed.

What woke her? The wonder was that she had slept-she had not meant to. But she was young, very young. Perhaps the shrinking of the galvanized roof-yet hardly, since that was so usual. Something had set her heart beating wildly; but she lay quite still, only she put her arm over her baby. Then she had both round it, and she prayed, "Little baby, little baby, don't wake!"

The moon's rays shone on the front of the house, and she saw one of the open crackes, quite close to where she lay, darken with a shadow. Then a protesting growl reached her; and she could fancy she heard the man turn hastily. She plainly heard the thud of something striking the dog's ribs, and the long flying strides of the animal as it howled and ran. Still watching, she saw the shadow darken every crack along the wall. She knew by the sounds that the man was trying every standpoint that might help him to see in; but how much he saw she could not tell. She thought of many things she might do to deceive him into the idea that she was not alone. But the sound of her voice would wake baby, and she dreaded that as though it were the only danger that threatened her. So she prayed "Little baby, don't wake don't cry!"

She ate a few mouthfuls of food and drank a cup of milk. But she lighted no fire, and when night came, no candle, but crept with her baby to bed.

What woke her? The wonder was that she had slept-she had not meant to. But she was young, very young. Perhaps the shrinking of the galvanized roof-yet hardly, since that was so usual. Something had set her heart beating wildly; but she lay quite still, only she put her arm over her baby. Then she had both round it, and she prayed, "Little baby, little baby, don't wake!"

The moon's rays shone on the front of the house, and she saw one of the open crackes, quite close to where she lay, darken with a shadow. Then a protesting growl reached her; and she could fancy she heard the man turn hastily. She plainly heard the thud of something striking the dog's ribs, and the long flying strides of the animal as it howled and ran. Still watching, she saw the shadow darken every crack along the wall. She knew by the sounds that the man was trying every standpoint that might help him to see in; but how much he saw she could not tell. She thought of many things she might do to deceive him into the idea that she was not alone. But the sound of her voice would wake baby, and she dreaded that as though it were the only danger that threatened her. So she prayed "Little baby, don't wake don't cry!"

Knowledge has many forms and it is available at many places. It is acquired through education, information, intelligence and experience. It is available in academic institutions, with teachers, in libraries, in research papers, seminar proceedings and in various organizations and workplaces with workers, managers, in drawings, in process sheets and on the shop floors. Knowledge, though closely linked to education, comes equally from learning skills such as those possessed by our artists, craftsmen, hakims, vaidyas, philosophers and saints, as also our housewives. Knowledge plays a very important role in their performance and output too. Our heritage and history, the rituals, epics and traditions that form part our consciousness are also vast resources of knowledge as are our libraries and universities. There is an abundance of unorthodox, earthy wisdom in our villages. There are hidden treasures of knowledge in our environment, in the oceans, bioreserves and deserts, in the plant and animal life. Every state in our country has a unique core competence for a knowledge society.

Knowledge has many forms and it is available at many places. It is acquired through education, information, intelligence and experience. It is available in academic institutions, with teachers, in libraries, in research papers, seminar proceedings and in various organizations and workplaces with workers, managers, in drawings, in process sheets and on the shop floors. Knowledge, though closely linked to education, comes equally from learning skills such as those possessed by our artists, craftsmen, hakims, vaidyas, philosophers and saints, as also our housewives. Knowledge plays a very important role in their performance and output too. Our heritage and history, the rituals, epics and traditions that form part our consciousness are also vast resources of knowledge as are our libraries and universities. There is an abundance of unorthodox, earthy wisdom in our villages. There are hidden treasures of knowledge in our environment, in the oceans, bioreserves and deserts, in the plant and animal life. Every state in our country has a unique core competence for a knowledge society.

Knowledge has many forms and it is available at many places. It is acquired through education, information, intelligence and experience. It is available in academic institutions, with teachers, in libraries, in research papers, seminar proceedings and in various organizations and workplaces with workers, managers, in drawings, in process sheets and on the shop floors. Knowledge, though closely linked to education, comes equally from learning skills such as those possessed by our artists, craftsmen, hakims, vaidyas, philosophers and saints, as also our housewives. Knowledge plays a very important role in their performance and output too. Our heritage and history, the rituals, epics and traditions that form part our consciousness are also vast resources of knowledge as are our libraries and universities. There is an abundance of unorthodox, earthy wisdom in our villages. There are hidden treasures of knowledge in our environment, in the oceans, bioreserves and deserts, in the plant and animal life. Every state in our country has a unique core competence for a knowledge society.

Knowledge has many forms and it is available at many places. It is acquired through education, information, intelligence and experience. It is available in academic institutions, with teachers, in libraries, in research papers, seminar proceedings and in various organizations and workplaces with workers, managers, in drawings, in process sheets and on the shop floors. Knowledge, though closely linked to education, comes equally from learning skills such as those possessed by our artists, craftsmen, hakims, vaidyas, philosophers and saints, as also our housewives. Knowledge plays a very important role in their performance and output too. Our heritage and history, the rituals, epics and traditions that form part our consciousness are also vast resources of knowledge as are our libraries and universities. There is an abundance of unorthodox, earthy wisdom in our villages. There are hidden treasures of knowledge in our environment, in the oceans, bioreserves and deserts, in the plant and animal life. Every state in our country has a unique core competence for a knowledge society.

Knowledge has many forms and it is available at many places. It is acquired through education, information, intelligence and experience. It is available in academic institutions, with teachers, in libraries, in research papers, seminar proceedings and in various organizations and workplaces with workers, managers, in drawings, in process sheets and on the shop floors. Knowledge, though closely linked to education, comes equally from learning skills such as those possessed by our artists, craftsmen, hakims, vaidyas, philosophers and saints, as also our housewives. Knowledge plays a very important role in their performance and output too. Our heritage and history, the rituals, epics and traditions that form part our consciousness are also vast resources of knowledge as are our libraries and universities. There is an abundance of unorthodox, earthy wisdom in our villages. There are hidden treasures of knowledge in our environment, in the oceans, bioreserves and deserts, in the plant and animal life. Every state in our country has a unique core competence for a knowledge society.

Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers, who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launches, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics. To a young author, again, this seems to be as terrible on ordeal as passing down the files of Sioux or Comanche Indians, each one of whom is thirsting for your scalp. When you are a little older, you will find that criticism is not much more serious that the bye-play of clowns in a circus, when they beat around the ring the victim with bladders slung at the end of long poles. A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever, Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expediated his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.