Is these 2 stories written in first or third person

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The Gospel According to Mark- Jorge Luis Borges (i'm thinking 3 person)These events took place at La Colorada ranch, in the southern part of the township of Junin, during the last days of March 1928. The protagonist was a medical student named Baltasar Espinosa. We may describe him, for now, as one of the common run of young men from Buenos Aires, with nothing more noteworthy about him than an almost unlimited kindness and a capacity for public speaking that had earned him several prizes at the English school0 in Ramos Mejia. He did not like arguing, and preferred having his listener rather than him­self in the right. Although he was fascinated by the probabilities of chance in any game he played, he was a bad player because it gave him no pleasure to win. His wide intelligence was undirected; at the age of thirty-three, he still had not quali­fied for graduation in the subject to which he was most drawn. His father, who was a freethinker0 (like all the gentlemen of his day), had introduced him to the lessons of Herbert Spencer0, but his mother, before leaving on a trip for Montevideo, once asked him to say the Lord's Prayer and make the sign of the cross every night. Through the years, he had never gone back on that promise.and A pair of tickets by amy tanThe minute our train leaves the Hong Kong border and enters shenzhen China. I feel different I can feel the skin on my forhead tingling my blood rushing through a new course my bones aching with a familar old pain. And I think My mother was right. I am becoming Chinese

BarbaraPA · Accepted Answer

Yes, Daniel, you are right. The words "our" and "I" show that it's first person.

Anonymous · Answer

so

The gospel one is third person

and amy tan's is first person

BarbaraPA · Answer

Yes

Anonymous · Answer

Do you know how the path is a symbol In Dead men's Path. I have read it several times I'm not getting it

Michael Obi's hopes were fulfilled much ear-lier than he had expected. He was appointed headmaster of Ndume Central School¹ in Janu-ary 1949. It had always been an unprogressive school, so the Mission authorities decided to send a young and energetic man to run it. Obi accepted this responsibility with enthusiasm. He had many wonderful ideas and this was an op-portunity to put them into practice. He had had sound secondary school education which desig-nated him a "pivotal teacher" in the official rec-ords and set him apart from the other headmas-ters in the mission field. He was outspoken in his condemnation of the narrow views of these older and often less-educated ones.

"We shall make a good job of it, shan't we?" he asked his young wife when they first heard the joyful news of his promotion.

"We shall do our best," she replied. "We shall have such beautiful gardens and everything will be just modern and delightful. . . ." In their two years of married life she had become completely infected by his passion for "modern methods" and his denigration of "these old and superannu-ated people in the teaching field who would be better employed as traders in the Onitsha² mar-ket." She began to see herself already as the admired wife of the young headmaster, the queen of the school.

The wives of the other teachers would envy her position. She would set the fashion in every-thing. . . . Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that there might not be other wives. Wavering between hope and fear, she asked her husband, looking anxiously at him.

"All our colleagues are young and unmar-ried," he said with enthusiasm, which for once she did not share. "Which is a good thing," he continued.

"Why?"

"Why? They will give all their time and en-ergy to the school."

Nancy was downcast. For a few minutes she became skeptical about the new school; but it was only for a few minutes. Her little personal misfortune could not blind her to her husband's happy prospects. She looked at him as he sat folded up in a chair. He was stoop-shouldered and looked frail. But he sometimes surprised people with sudden bursts of physical energy. In his present posture, however, all his bodily strength seemed to have retired behind his deep-set eyes, giving them an extraordinary power of penetration. He was only twenty-six, but looked thirty or more. On the whole, he was not unhandsome.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mike," said Nancy after a while, imitating the woman's mag-azine she read.

"I was thinking what a grand opportunity we've got at last to show these people how a school should be run."

Ndume School was backward in every sense of the word. Mr. Obi put his whole life into the work, and his wife hers too. He had two aims. A high standard of teaching was insisted upon, and the school compound was to be turned into a place of beauty. Nancy's dream-gardens came to life with the coming of the rains, and blossomed. Beautiful hibiscus and alla-manda hedges in brilliant red and yellow marked out the carefully tended school com-pound from the rank neighborhood bushes.

One evening as Obi was admiring his work he was scandalized to see an old woman from the village hobble right across the compound, through a marigold flower-bed and the hedges. On going up there he found faint signs of an al-most disused path from the village across the school compound to the bush on the other side.

"It amazes me," said Obi to one of his teach-ers who had been three years in the school, "that you people allowed the villagers to make use of this footpath. It is simply incredible." He shook his head.

"The path," said the teacher apologetically, "appears to be very important to them. Although it is hardly used, it connects the village shrine with their place of burial."

"And what has that got to do with the school?" asked the headmaster.

"Well, I don't know," replied the other with a shrug of the shoulders. "But I remember there was a big row³ some time ago when we at-tempted to close it."

"That was some time ago. But it will not be used now," said Obi as he walked away. "What will the iiovernment Education Officer think of this when he comes to inspect the school next week? The villagers might, for all I know, decide to use the schoolroom for a pagan ritual during the inspection."

Heavy sticks were planted closely across the path at the two places where it entered and left the school premises. These were further strengthened with barbed wire.

Three days later the village priest of Ani⁴called on the headmaster. He was an old man and walked with a slight stoop. He carried a stout walking-stick which he usually tapped on the floor, by way of emphasis, each time he made a new point in his argument.

"I have heard," he said after the usual ex change of cordialities, "that our ancestral foot-path has recently been closed. . . ."

"Yes," replied Mr. Obi. "We cannot allow people to make a highway of our school com-pound."

"Look here, my son," said the priest bringing down his walking-stick, "this path was here be-fore you were born and before your father was born. The whole life of this village depends on it. Our dead relatives depart by it and our ances-tors visit us by it. But most important, it is the path of children coming in to be born. . . ."

Mr. Obi listened with a satisfied smile on his face.

"The whole purpose of our school," he said finally, "is to eradicate just such beliefs as that. Dead men do not require footpaths. The whole idea is just fantastic. Our duty is to teach your children to laugh at such ideas."

"What you say may be true," replied the priest, "but we follow the practices of our fa-thers. If you reopen the path we shall have noth-ing to quarrel about. What I always say is: let the hawk perch and let the eagle perch." He rose to go.

"1 am sorry," said the young headmaster. "But the school compound cannot be a thor-oughfare. It is against our regulations. I would suggest your constructing another path, skirting our premises. We can even get our boys to help in building it. I don't suppose the ancestors will find the little detour too burdensome."

"I have no more words to say," said the old priest, already outside.

Two days later a young woman in the village died in childbed.⁵ A diviner⁶ was immediately consulted and he prescribed heavy sacrifices to propitiate ancestors insulted by the fence.

Obi woke up next morning among the ruins of his work. The beautiful hedges were torn up not just near the path but right round the school, the flowers trampled to death and one of the school buildings pulled down. . . . That day, the white Supervisor came to inspect the school and wrote a nasty report on the state of the premises but more seriously about the "tribal-war situation developing between the school and the village, arising in part from the mis-guided zeal of the new headmaster."

Is these 2 stories written in first or third person

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