https://chat.whatsapp.com/HJlXdMO5fsvGeR8BFapzOW
VERIFIED OFFICIAL FACEBOOK PROFILE
VERIFIED FACEBOOK PAGE MUSTAFA SHORTHAND INSTITUTE
VERIFIED OFFICIAL BLOG PAKISTAN SHORTHAND INSTITUTE
VERIFIED OFFICIAL YOUTUBE CHANNEL
VERIFIED GMAIL ACCOUNT FOR MESSAGES AND INFORMATION
sirisaacpitmanshothand@gmail.com
0303-4399996 0327-0577772
VERIFIED OFFICIAL LINKEDIN ACCOUNT
VERIFIED OFFICIAL INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT
VERIFIED OFFICIAL GMAIL ACCOUNT
700 Common Words Exercise No. 6 Longhand and Shorthand
May walked with long and quick steps as she went down the short road that led to the sea. Ever since she had spent a week with some relations who lived by the sea in the lovely summer month of June she had lived for the day when she could return. How she had loved the little fishing town and the beautiful blue sea during that week in June! How peaceful it had seemed to her after the cares of city life! The sea to the limits of the eye had been deep blue, and the water met the land with such a peaceful touch that one hardly heard its sound. The ships at rest a little way out seemed not to move, and the white sails of the little ones nearer to the land were still. And that was her memory of it all. Stillness and peace, blue and white. May remembered also the houses of the people who lived there. They were little houses so near together that they seemed in places almost to touch one another. Surely, a hand held out from one of those small upper windows could meet the hand held out from the window on the other side of that little road. Although it was not really a road, she thought. A road should be reasonably wide, and the houses should be set well back, and there should be room for motor-cars to pass along it. There should be room for people to pass each other without moving to one side or the other. No, she could not really call it a road, but it was certainly a place where people lived. Some of them, like her relations, had lived there all their lives. Some of them, like her relations, had lived there all their lives. Never had they heard the call of the cities of their own country, and still less had the voice of other countries overseas called to them. No, for them life had to end where it had begun, and throughout the years they lived in those little, very little houses, lived as people were no longer thought to live in this wonderful land of ours, with its wide streets and modern houses and health services and picture-houses. May had seen the little fishing town and had loved it. The call of the sea must be in my heart, she thought as she walked once again on the hard city streets where she worked. Of course, she told her friend all about it. Her friend worked in the same office and until then they had generally seen eye-to-eye about the details of life. That had been before May went to her relations at the sea for a week. She had returned quite changed. From then on her one thought had been to save enough money to take another week with them in the little house in the little fishing town by the sea. Of course, the place was about as far away as it could be from where she live, and it meant going without quite a few other things if May was to get the money together. But she had done it, and now in the depth of winter she walked down the road that led to the sea. She found that the blue sea of summer had changed, and the water was now almost without colour. No ships were at rest out there, and that was just as threw itself with fearful force upon the stones and headlands, and the sound of its breaking would have over-powered any other sound had there been any. But there were no other sounds, for the town itself was resting. Men could not fish in such weather as this, when the water threw itself up into the air as if trying to overcome the little town that made so much use of it, a town indeed that lived wholly upon what it took from those great waters. OH! May cried, as she held her body hard against the forces of Nature. Oh, how wonderful! How truly wonderful! Gone was the water-colour painting of the peaceful blue sea and the sweet little town, and in its place was this great oil painting, this masterpiece of the forces of water and land. She was watching the everlasting war between earth and water, that everlasting attempt of one to the master of the other, an attempt that she hoped would never meet with success. And she loved the sea and the land and the little town more than ever, and she would willingly have spent the rest of her life there, by the fearful and the peaceful sea.
