De Paul University Formatchanges on A Word File and How to Use Tools of Font Hello, I need make some changes on the word file attached. There are two files

De Paul University Formatchanges on A Word File and How to Use Tools of Font Hello, I need make some changes on the word file attached. There are two files attached, one for the instructions and the other one for the text the you will work on. Please follow the instructions point by point. Word Test (25 pts)
Save the document as your last name and Word Test. (1 pt) Make the following changes. Do these
items in order – specifically, do #1 first.
1. Take the document given to you, and use the tool that removes text formatting from the entire
document. (1pt)
2. Remove the page color from the document and restore the font to show as black font on white
pages. (1pt)
3. Take the web address that is at the top of the document, and make it a hyperlink. (1 pt)
4. Insert the Trademark symbol after the title of the book, Anne of Green Gables. (1 pt)
5. Change the properties of the document so that the author reads: Lucy Maud Montgomery. (Remove
my name entirely.) Insert a quick part that displays this in the header of every page. (2pts)
6. Find a paragraph where the name Marilla is the very first word in the paragraph. Use the drop cap
function to display the M in Marilla’s name, but put the letter in the margin. Use the Castellar font,
and have the letter drop 4 lines. (2pts)
7. Find the words White Sands in the document, and replace it with the same words, but apply the
color of blue to the font and underline. There are 3 instances. (1 pt)
8. Find the paragraph that begins: “Why, because it sounds so nice” and apply the 2 column
formatting to that paragraph. (1 pt)
9. Back at the the top of the document, insert a page break after the hyperlink you created earlier.
Make sure the page break allows for formatting between sections. Vertically center the text on the
first page only, and apply a 3D page border, with a line that is 1 ½ width, to the cover page only. (3
pts)
10. Insert the file path (document info) into the footer . (1 pt)
11. At the bottom of your test document, there is a picture, and some details of a table. Use the Word
table tool to create the table shown, on the very last page of the document. Use the Word table
tools to calculate the total displayed in the image. Follow the instructions given in the image. (4 pts)
12. Take the very last page of the document, and use a break and format so that the very last page of
the document prints as landscape, and the rest of the document prints as portrait. (2pts)
13. From the top of the document, add the page numbers to the document in the bottom right corner of
each page. Format this so the page number doesn’t appear on the cover page, and the first full page
of the text starts at 1. This may remove headers and footers from cover page, but the cover page
ONLY – that’s ok. (2 pt)
14. Find the sentence: ‘My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.’ And make only that sentence
the Intense Emphasis style. (1 pt)
15. Use the highlight tool to highlight these words in the document: Lake of Shining Waters . Highlight
with the Turquoise color. (1 pt)
Chapter Five: Anne’s History
Anne of Green Gables
http://www.feedbooks.com/book/2776/anne -of-green-gables
“Do you know,” said Anne confidentially, “I’ve made up my mind to enjoy this drive. It’s been my experience that you can near ly always enjoy things if you
make up your mind firmly that you will. Of course, you must make it up FIRMLY. I am not going to thin k about going back to the asylum while we’re having our
drive. I’m just going to think about the drive. Oh, look, there’s one little early wild rose out! Isn’t it lovely? Don’t you think it must be glad to be a rose?
Wouldn’t it be nice if roses could talk? I’m sure they could tell us such lovely things. And isn’t pink the most bewitching color in the world? I love it, but I
can’t wear it. Redheaded people can’t wear pink, not even in imagination. Did you ever know of anybody whose hair was red whe n she was young, but got to be
another color when she grew up?”
“No, I don’t know as I ever did,” said Marilla mercilessly, “and I shouldn’t think it likely to happen in your case either.”
Anne sighed.
“Well, that is another hope gone. ‘My life is a perfect grav eyard of buried hopes.’ That’s a sentence I read in a book once, and I say it over to comfort myself
whenever I’m disappointed in anything.”
“I don’t see where the comforting comes in myself,” said Marilla.
“Why, because it sounds so nice and romantic, ju st as if I were a heroine in a book, you know. I am so fond of romantic things, and a graveyard full of buried
hopes is about as romantic a thing as one can imagine isn’t it? I’m rather glad I have one. Are we going across the Lake of S hining Waters today?”
“We’re not going over Barry’s pond, if that’s what you mean by your Lake of Shining Waters. We’re going by the shore road.”
“Shore road sounds nice,” said Anne dreamily. “Is it as nice as it sounds? Just when you said ‘shore road’ I saw it in a pict ure in my mind, as quick as that!
And White Sands is a pretty name, too; but I don’t like it as well as Avonlea. Avonlea is a lovely name. It just sounds like music. How far is it to White Sands?”
“It’s five miles; and as you’re evidently bent on talking you might as well talk to some purpose by telling me what you know about yourself.”
“Oh, what I KNOW about myself isn’t really worth telling,” said Anne eagerly. “If you’ll only let me tell you what I IMAGINE about myself you’ll think it ever so
much more interesting.” “No, I don’t want any of your imaginings. Just you stick to bald facts. Begin at the beginning. Where were you bo rn and how old are
you?”
“I was eleven last March,” said Anne, resigning herself to bald facts with a little sigh. “And I was born in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia. My father’s name was
Walter Shirley, and he was a teacher in the Bolingbroke High School. My mother’s name was Bertha Shirley. Aren’t Walter and B ertha lovely names? I’m so glad
my parents had nice names. It would be a real dis grace to have a father named—well, say Jedediah, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter what a person’s name is as long as he behaves himself,” said Marilla, feeling herself called upon to inculcate a good and useful
moral.
“Well, I don’t know.” Anne looked thoughtful. “I read in a book once that a rose by any othe r name would smell as sweet, but I’ve never been able to believe it.
I don’t believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage. I suppose my father could have been a good man even if he had been
called Jedediah; but I’m sure it would have been a cross. Well, my mother was a teacher in the High school, too, but when she married father she gave up
teaching, of course. A husband was enough responsibility. Mrs. Thomas said that they were a pair of babies and as poor as chu rch mice. T hey went to live in a
weeny-teeny little yellow house in 35 Bolingbroke. I’ve never seen that house, but I’ve imagined it thousands of times. I think it must have had honeysuckle
over the parlor window and lilacs in the front yard and lilies of the valley just inside the gate. Yes, and muslin curtains in all the windows. Muslin curtains
give a house such an air. I was born in that house. Mrs. Thomas said I was the homeliest baby she ever saw, I was so scrawny and tiny and nothing but eyes,
but that mother t hought I was perfectly beautiful. I should think a mother would be a better judge than a poor woman who came in to scrub, wou ldn’t you? I’m
glad she was satisfied with me anyhow, I would feel so sad if I thought I was a disappointment to her —because she didn’t live very long after that, you see.
She died of fever when I was just three months old. I do wish she’d lived long enough for me to remember calling her mother. I think it would be so sweet to
say ‘mother,’ don’t you? And father died four days afterwa rds from fever too. That left me an orphan and folks were at their wits’ end, so Mrs. Thomas said,
what to do with me. You see, nobody wanted me even then. It seems to be my fate. Father and mother had both come from places far away and it was well
known t hey hadn’t any relatives living. Finally Mrs. Thomas said she’d take me, though she was poor and had a drunken husband. She b rought me up by hand.
Do you know if there is anything in being brought up by hand that ought to make people who are brought up tha t way better than other people? Because
whenever I was naughty Mrs. Thomas would ask me how I could be such a bad girl when she had brought me up by hand —reproachful-like.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas moved away from Bolingbroke to Marysville, and I lived with th em until I was eight years old. I helped look after the Thomas children —
there were four of them younger than me —and I can tell you they took a lot of looking after. Then Mr. Thomas was killed falling under a train and his mother
offered to take Mrs. Thomas and the children, but she didn’t want me. Mrs. Thomas was at HER wits’ end, so she said, what to do with me. Then Mrs. Hammon d
from up the river came down and said she’d take me, seeing I was handy with children, and I went up the river to live with he r in a little clearing among the
stumps. It was a very lonesome place. I’m sure I could never have lived there if I hadn’t had an imagination. Mr. Hammond wor ked a little sawmill up there, and
Mrs. 36 Hammond had eight children. She had twins three times. I l ike babies in moderation, but twins three times in succession is TOO MUCH. I told Mrs.
Hammond so firmly, when the last pair came. I used to get so dreadfully tired carrying them about.
“I lived up river with Mrs. Hammond over two years, and then Mr. Hamm ond died and Mrs. Hammond broke up housekeeping. She divided her children among her
relatives and went to the States. I had to go to the asylum at Hopeton, because nobody would take me. They didn’t want me at the asylum, either; they said
they were over-crowded as it was. But they had to take me and I was there four months until Mrs. Spencer came.”
Anne finished up with another sigh, of relief this time. Evidently she did not like talking about her experiences in a world that had not wanted her.
“Did you ever go to school?” demanded Marilla, turning the sorrel mare down the shore road.
“Not a great deal. I went a little the last year I stayed with Mrs. Thomas. When I went up river we were so far from a school that I couldn’t walk it in winter
and there was a vacation in summer, so I could only go in the spring and fall. But of course I went while I was at the asylum. I can read pretty well and I know
ever so many pieces of poetry off by heart —’The Battle of Hohenlinden’ and ‘Edinburgh after Flodden,’ and ‘ Bingen of the Rhine,’ and most of the ‘Lady of the
Lake’ and most of ‘The Seasons’ by James Thompson. Don’t you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down yo ur back? There is a piece in the
Fifth Reader —’The Downfall of Poland’—that is just full of thrills. Of course, I wasn’t in the Fifth Reader —I was only in the Fourth—but the big girls used to
lend me theirs to read.”
“Were those women—Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Hammond—good to you?” asked Marilla, looking at Anne out of the corner of her ey e.
“O-o-o-h,” faltered Anne. Her sensitive little face suddenly flushed scarlet and embarrassment sat on her brow. “Oh, they MEANT to b e—I know they meant to
be just as good and kind as possible. And when people mean to be good to you, you don’t mind very much when they’re not quite —always. They had a good deal
to worry them, you know. It’s very trying to 37 have a drunken husband, you see; and it must be very trying to have twins thr ee times in succession, don’t you
think? But I feel sure they meant to be good to me.”
Marilla asked no more questions. Anne gave herself up to a silent rapture over the shore road and Marilla guided the sorrel a bstractedly while she pondered
deeply. Pity was suddenly stirring in her heart for the child. What a starved, unloved life she had had —a life of drudgery and poverty and neglect; for Marilla
was shrewd enough to read between the lines of Anne’s history and divine the truth. No wonder she had been so delighted at th e prospect of a real home. It
was a pity she had to be sent back. What if she, Marilla, should indulge Matthew’s unaccountable whim and let her stay? He was set on it; and the child
seemed a nice, teachable little thing.
“She’s got too much to say,” thought Marilla, “but she might be trained out of that. And th ere’s nothing rude or slangy in what she does say. She’s ladylike. It’s
likely her people were nice folks.”
The shore road was “woodsy and wild and lonesome.” On the right hand, scrub firs, their spirits quite unbroken by long years of tussle with the gulf winds,
grew thickly. On the left were the steep red sandstone cliffs, so near the track in places that a mare of less steadiness tha n the sorrel might have tried the
nerves of the people behind her. Down at the base of the cliffs were heaps of surf -worn rocks or little sandy coves inlaid with pebbles as with ocean jewels;
beyond lay the sea, shimmering and blue, and over it soared the gulls, their pinions flashing silvery in the sunlight.
“Isn’t the sea wonderful?” said Anne, rousing from a long, wide -eyed silence. “Once, when I lived in Marysville, Mr. Thomas hired an express wagon and took us
all to spend the day at the shore ten miles away. I enjoyed every moment of that day, even if I had to look after the childre n all the time. I lived it over in
happy dreams for years. But this shore is nicer than the Marysville shore. Aren’t those gulls splendid? Would you like to be a gu ll? I think I would —that is, if I
couldn’t be a human girl. Don’t you think it would be nice to wake up at sunrise and swoop down o ver the water and away out over that lovely blue all day; and
then at night to fly back to one’s nest? Oh, I can 38 just imagine myself doing it. What big house is that just ahead, please ?”
“That’s the White Sands Hotel. Mr. Kirke runs it, but the season hasn’t begun yet. There are heaps of Americans come there for the summer. They think this
shore is just about right.”
“I was afraid it might be Mrs. Spencer’s place,” said Anne mournfully. “I don’t want to get there. Somehow, it will seem like the end
of everything.”

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