【现代大学英语精读2课文原文】大学英语精读2课文原文
现代大学英语精读Book2Unit10 Pompeii 课文原文
Pompeii1 Not very far from Naples, a strange city sleeps under the hot Italian sun. It is the city of Pompeii, and there is no other city quite like it in all the world. Nothing lives in Pompeii except crickets and beetles and lizards, yet every year thousands of people travel from distant countries to visit it.2 Pompeii is a dead city. No one has lived there for nearly two thousand years—not since the summer of the year AD 79, to be exact.3 Until that year Pompeii was a prosperous city of 25,000 people. Nearby was the bay of Naples, an arm of the blue Mediterranean. Rich men came down from wealthy Rome to build seaside villas. Farmlands surrounded Pompeii. Rising behind the city was the 4,000-foot Mount Vesuvius, a grass-covered slope where the shepherds of Pompeii took their goats to graze. Pompeii was a busy city and a happy one.4 It died suddenly, in a terrible rain of fire and ash. The tragedy struck on the 24th of August, AD 79. Mount Vesuvius, which had slept quietly for centuries, erupted with savage violence. Tons of hot ash fell on Pompeii, hiding it from sight. For three days the sun did not break through the clouds of volcanic ash that filled the sky. And when the eruption ended, Pompeii was buried deep. A city had perished.5 Centuries passed…Pompeii was forgotten. Then, seventeen hundred years later, it was discovered again. Beneath the protecting shroud of ash, the city lay intact. Everything was as it had been the day Vesuvius erupted. There were still loaves of bread in the ovens of the bakeries. In the wine shops, the wine jars were in place, and on one counter could be seen a stain where a customer had thrown down his glass and fled.6 To go to Pompeii today is to take a trip backward in time. The old city comes to life all around you. You can almost hear the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the narrow streets, the cries of children and the laughter of the shopkeepers. The sky is cloudlessly blue, with the summer sun high in the sky. The grassy slopes of great Vesuvius rise to the heavens behind the city, and sunlight shimmers on the waters of the bay a thousand yards from the city walls. Ships from every nation are in port and strange languages can be heard in the streets.7 Such was Pompeii on its last day. And so it is today, now that the volcanic ash has been cleared away. A good imagination is all you need to restore it to activity.8 At dawn on August 24, in the year AD 79, Pompeii’s 25,000 people awakened to another hot day in that hot summer. There was going to be a contest in the arena that night and the whole town was looking forward to the bloody fights of the gladiators. The children headed toward school, carrying slates and followed by their dogs, In the forum the town’s important men had gathered after breakfast to read the political signs that had been posted during the night. Elsewhere in the forum the wool merchants talked business. The banker was going over his account books. At the inn late-rising travelers from the East awakened and yawned and called for breakfast.9 The quiet morning moved slowly along. There was nothing very unusual about Pompeii. But tragedy was on its way. Beneath Vesuvius’ vine-covered slopes a mighty force was about to break loose. At one o’clo ck in the afternoon the critical point was reached. The mountain blew up, raining death on thousands. Down in Pompeii, for miles from the summit, a tremendous explosion was heard.10 “What was that?”People cried from one end of town to another. They stared at each other, puzzled, troubled. Were the gods fighting in heaven？11 “Look!” somebody shouted. “Look at Vesuvius!”12 Thousands of eyes turned upward. Thousands of arms pointed. A black cloud was rising from the shattered of the mountain. Higher and higher it rose. Like the trunk of a tree, it rose in the air, branching out as it climbed.13 Minutes passed. The sound of the explosion died away, but it still reverberated in everyone’s ears. The cloud over Vesuvius continued to ris e, black as night, higher and higher. A strange rain began to fall on Pompeii-a rain of stones. The stones were light. They were pumice stones, consisting mostly of air bubbles. These poured down as though there had been a sudden cloudburst. The pumice stones did little damage.14 “What is happening?” Pompeiians asked one another. They rushe d to the temples-the Temple of Jupiter, the Temple of Apollo, the Temple of Isis. Priests tried to calm the citizens. The sky was dark. An hour went by and darkness still shrouded everything. All was confusion. The people of Pompeii now knew that doom was at hand. Their fears were redoubled when atremendous rain of hot ash began to fall. The wooden of some of the houses began to catch fire as the ash reached them. Other buildings were collapsing under the weight of the pumice stones.15 In these first few hours, only the quick-witted managed to escape. A wealthy wool merchant called his family together and crammed jewelry and money into a sack. Lighting a torch, he led his little band out into the nightmare of the streets. Many hundreds of Pompeiians fled in those first few dark hours. Stumbling in the darkness, they made their way to the city gates, then out and down to the harbor. They boarded boats and got away, living to tell the tale of their city’s destruction. Other preferred to remain within the city, huddling inside the temples, or in the public baths or in the cells of their homes. They still hoped the nightmare would end.16 It was evening now. And a trouble was in store for Pompeii. The earth trembled and quaked! Roofs went crashing in ruin, burying hundreds who had hoped to survive the eruption. In the forum the tall columns toppled. The entire city seemed to shake in the grip of a giant fist.17 Three feet of pumice stones now covered the ground. Ash floated in the air. Poisonous gas came drifting from the crater, though people could still breathe. Roofs were collapsing everywhere. The cries of the injured and dying filled the air. Rushing throngs, blinded by the darkness and the smoke, rushed up one street and down the next, trampling the fallen in a crazy fruitless dash toward safety, Dozens of people plunged into dead-end streets and found themselves trapped by crashing buildings. They waited there, too frightened to run further, expecting the end.18 The poison gas thickened as the terrible night advanced. It was possible to protect oneself from the pumice stones but not from the gas, and Pompeiians died by the hundreds. Carbon monoxide gas prevents the body from absorbing oxygen. Victims of carbon monoxide poisoning get sleepier until they lose consciousness, never to regain it. All over Pompeii, people lay down n beds of pumice stones, overwhelmed by the gas, and death came quietly to them.19 All though the endless night, Pompeiians wandered about the streets or crouched in their ruined homes or clustered in the temples to pray. By morning few remained alive. Not once had Vesuvius stopped hurling pumice stones and ash into the air, and the streets of Pompeii were filling quickly. At midday on August 25, exactly twenty-four hours after the beginning ofthe first eruption, a second eruption occurred. A second cloud of ash rose above Vesuvius’summit. The wind blew ash as far as Rome. But most of the new ash descended on Pompeii. 20 The deadly shower of stones and ash went into its second day. But it no longer mattered to Pompeii whether the eruption continued another day or another year. For by midday on August 25, Pompeii was a city of the dead.。
现代大学英语精读2第二版课文翻译
UNIT1 又一学年——为了什么？约翰·切阿迪1.给你们讲讲我刚当老师时候的一次失败经历吧。
那是1940年的1月，我从研究生院毕业不久，在堪萨斯城大学开始第一学期的教学工作。
一个瘦高，长得就像顶上有毛的豆角架一样的男学生走进我的课堂，坐下，双臂交叉放在胸前，看着我，好像在说：“好吧，教我一些东西。
”两周后我们开始学习《哈姆雷特》。
三周后他双手叉腰走进我的办公室，“看，”他说，“我来这是学习当药剂师的。
我为什么必须读这个？”由于没有随身带着自己的书，他就指着桌子上放着的我的那本。
2.虽然我是位新老师，我本来可以告诉这个家伙许多事情的。
我本来可以指出，他考入的不是制药技工培训学校而是大学，而且他在毕业时，应该得到一张写有理学学士而不是“合格的磨药工”的学位证书。
这证书会证明他专修过药剂学，但它还能进一步证明他曾经接触过一些人类发展史上产生的思想。
换句话说，他上的不是技能培训学校而是大学，在大学里学生既要得到培训又要接受教育。
3.我本来可以把这些话都告诉他，但是很明显，他不会待很长时间，说了也没用。
4.但是，由于我当时很年轻而且责任感也很强，我尽量把我的意思这样表达出来：“在你的余生中，”我说，“平均每天24小时左右。
谈恋爱时，你会觉得它有点短；失恋时，你会觉得它有点长。
但平均每天24小时会保持不变。
在其余的大约8个小时的时间里，你会处于睡眠状态。
5.“然后在每个工作日8个小时左右的时间里，我希望你会忙于一些有用的事情。
假设你毕业于一所药科大学——或工程大学，法学院，或者其他什么大学——在那8个小时时间里，你将用到你的专业技能。
作为一个药剂师，你要确保氯化物没有和阿斯匹林混在一起；作为一个工程师，你要确保一切都在你的掌控之中；作为一个律师，你要保证你的当事人没有因为你的无能而被处以电刑。
这些都是有用的工作，它们涉及到的技能每个人都必须尊重，而且它们都能给你带来基本的满足。
无论你还干些什么，这些技能都很可能是你养家糊口的本领。
现代大学英语第二版精读2Unit...
又是一个新学年——为什么上大学约翰·齐阿迪1 让我来给你们讲讲我在刚开始教书生涯时所遭到的一次惨败。
那是1940年1月，我刚从研究生院毕业，在堪萨斯大学开始第一个学期的执教。
有这么一个学生，瘦高个，样子活像一根长着头发的豆架。
他走进课堂，坐了下来，双臂交叉抱在胸前，看了看我，就像在说：“好吧，那就教我点什么吧。
”两周后我们开始学习《哈姆雷特》。
又过了三周，他走进我的办公室，双手放在臀部（双手叉腰），“你知道，”他说，“我来这儿是为了当药剂师。
我干嘛要念这些玩意儿？”因为连书都没带，他就指着我桌上的那本书说。
2 尽管我刚当老师，但我也蛮可以告诉此兄好些道理。
我本可以指出，他来报名的地方不是一家药剂学校，而是一所大学。
学业完成时他将获得一纸文凭，上面写的将是理科学士学位，而不会写“合格的捣药技术员”。
这一纸文凭不仅会证明他专修过药剂学，还会证明他受到过人类文明思想的熏陶。
也就是说，他进的不是一家技校，而是一所大学。
在大学里，学生既要接受专业训练，又要接受人文教育。
3 我本可以给他讲这一大通道理，但显然他在大学待不了多久，不会把我的话当回事。
4 不过当时我年轻气盛，责任感很强。
于是我就试着这么和他说：“在你日后的生活中，你一天的时间大概平均算下来是二十四小时，恋爱的时候会短些，失恋的时候会长些，但平均数基本上保持不变。
这中间有八个小时左右，你在睡觉。
”5 “然后在大概八个小时的每个工作日里，你会——但愿你会——努力从事有益的工作。
假设你已经上完药剂师学校，或工程、法律学校，或随便其他什么学校，在那八小时内你将运用你的专业技能。
你要做的是确保别因自己技艺不精而把氰化物掺进阿司匹林，或让公牛跃过你修建的篱笆，或因为你的无能而把你的委托人送上电椅。
这些都是有用的职业。
这些工作都需要人人应该尊重的技能，也能给你带来基本的满足感。
不说别的，很可能你要靠它们来养家糊口（换取餐桌的食物，养活你的妻子，养育你的子女）。
最新现代大学英语精读2课文文本
Lesson OnePre-class Work Read the text a third time. Learn the new words and expressions listed below.Glossaryaccomplishment n. the act of finishing sth. completely and successfully; achievementacquire v. to gain; to get for oneself by one's own workarrogantly adv. behaving in a proud and self-important wayaspirin n. 阿司匹林（解热镇痛药）assume v. to take as a fact; to supposeavailable adj. able to be used or easily foundbachelor n. ～'s degree: the first university degreebeanpole n. (infml) a very tall and thin personbull n. a male cowcertify v. to state that sth. is true or correct, esp. after some kind of testcivilized adj. educated and refined; having an advanced cultureclient n. a person who pays for help or advice from a person or organizationcontinuity n. the state of being continuouscyanide n. 氰化物democratic adj. based on the idea that everyone should have equal rights and should be involved in making important decisions 民主的disaster n. a sudden event such as a flood, storm, or accident which causes great damage or suffering. Here: a complete failuredrugstore n. (AmE) a shop which sells medicine (and a variety of other things)enroll v. to officially arrange to join a school or universityexpertise n. skill in a particular fieldexpose v. to enable sb. to see or experience new things or learn about new beliefs, ideas, etc.faculty n. (AmE) all the teachers of a university or collegefragment n. a small piece of sth.generate v. to producegrind v. to crush into small pieces or powder by pressing between hard surfaceship n. the fleshy part of either side of the human body above the legshumanity n. the qualities of being humanimplicitly adv. in an implied way 含蓄地inevitable adj. certain to happen and impossible to avoidliteral adj. in the basic meaning of a wordmaintain v. to continue to have as beforeNeanderthal n. an early type of human being who lived in Europe during the Stone Agenevertheless adv. in spite of that; yetpeculiar adj. belonging only to a particular person; special; oddpenetrating adj. showing the ability to understand things clearly and deeplypest n. (infml) an annoying personpharmacy n. a shop where medicines are prepared and sold. Here: the study of preparing drugs or medicines philosophy n. the study of the nature and meaning of existence, reality, etc. 哲学pill n. a small solid piece of medicine that you swallow wholepreside v. to lead; to be in chargeprofessional adj. relating to the work that a person does for an occupation, esp. work that requires special trainingpursuit n. the act of trying to achieve sth. in a determined waypush-button adj. using computers or electronic equipment rather than traditional methodsqualified adj. having suitable knowledge or experience for a particular jobrear v. to care for a person or an animal until they are fully grownresources n. possessions in the form of wealth, property, skills, etc. that you have 资源savage n. an uncivilized human beingscroll n. Here: a certificate of an academic degreesemester n. one of the two periods into which the year is divided in American high schools and universities (=term in BrE) sensitive adj. able to understand or appreciate art, music or literatureshudder v. to shake uncontrollably for a momentspecialize v. to limit all or most of one's study to particular subjects 专修species n. (infml) a type; a sortspecimen n. Here: a person who is unusual in some way and has a quality of a particular kindspiritual adj. related to your spirit rather than to your body or mindstore v. to keepsuffice v. to be enoughProper Names : Aristotle 亚里士多德Bach 巴赫Chaucer 乔叟Dante 但丁Einstein 爱因斯坦Hamlet 哈姆雷特Homer 荷马La Rochefoucauld 拉罗什富科Shakespeare 莎士比亚Virgil 维吉尔Another School Year — What ForJohn CiardiRead the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes, dictionaries or the glossary yet.Let me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something." Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. "Look," he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff" And not having a book of his own to point to, he pointed to mine which was lying on the desk.New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things. I could have pointed out that he had enrolled, not in a drugstore-mechanics school, but in a college and that at the end of his course meant to reach for a scroll that read Bachelor of Science. It would not read: Qualified Pill-Grinding Technician. It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history. That is to say, he had not entered a technical training school but a university and in universities students enroll for both training and education.I could have told him all this, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't going to be around long enough for it to matter. Nevertheless, I was young and I had a high sense of duty and I tried to put it this way: "For the rest of your life," I said, "your days are going to average out to about twenty-four hours. They will be a little shorter when you are in love, and a little longer when you are out of love, but the average will tend to hold. For eight of these hours, more or less, you will be asleep." "Then for about eight hours of each working day you will, I hope, be usefully employed. Assume you have gone through pharmacy school —or engineering, or law school, or whatever —during those eight hours you will be using your professional skills. You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn't jump the fence, or that your client doesn't go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence. These are all useful pursuits. They involve skills every man must respect, and they can all bring you basic satisfactions. Along with everything else, they will probably be what puts food on your table, supports your wife, and rears your children. They will be your income, and may it always suffice.""But having finished the day's work, what do you do with those other eight hours Let's say you go home to your family. What sort of family are you raising Will the children ever be exposed to a reasonably penetrating idea at home Will you be presiding over a family that maintains some contact with the great democratic intellect Will there be a book in the house Willthere be a painting a reasonably sensitive man can look at without shuddering Will the kids ever get to hear Bach"That is about what I said, but this particular pest was not interested. "Look," he said, "you professors raise your kids your way; I'll take care of my own. Me, I'm out to make money.""I hope you make a lot of it," I told him, "because you're going to be badly stuck for something to do when you're not signing checks."Fourteen years later I am still teaching, and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man's development we call history —then you have no business being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the push-button Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them — without making contact.No one gets to be a human being unaided. There is not time enough in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know in order to be a civilized human.Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass the great stone halls of, say, M. I. T., and there cut into the stone are the names of the scientists. The chances are that few, if any, of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any of you who managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than did many of those great scholars of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew, because you can start from what the past learned for you.And as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so it is true of mankind's spiritual resources. Most of these resources, both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books are man's peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read Homer and your mind includes a piece of Homer's mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare — the list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift; it offers you a life you have not the time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not the time to travel in literal time. A civilized mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy.I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they hadn't read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become human if they hadn't read about it.I speak, I'm sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts college and for the faculties of the specialized schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include. The faculty, by its very existence, says implicitly: "We have been aided by many people, and by many books, in our attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that expertise."Lesson Twoalert adj. watchful and ready to meet dangerbirch n. 桦树bough n. a main branch of a treecabin n. a small roughly built housechase v. to drive away; to cause to leavecreek n. a long narrow streamcrouch v. to lower the body close to the ground by bending the knees and backcub n. a young meat-eating wild animal like bear, lion, tiger, wolf, etc.detain v. to keep sb. from leaving during a certain timedim v. to become less brightdoc n. (infml AmE) a doctordrift v. to be driven along by windflake n. a very small flat thin piece that breaks away easily from sth. else; snow ～: 雪花grasshopper n. 蚱蜢howl n. a long loud cry, esp. made by wolves as in pain, anger, etc.leap v. to jump high into the airlick v. to move the tongue across the surface of sth. in order to eat it or clean itmantle n. a loose outer sleeveless garment. Here it is used figuratively.meadow n. a field with wild grass and flowersmischievous adj. eager to have fun by playing harmless tricksmuzzle n. the nose and mouth of an animal such as a dog, a wolf or a horsenumb adj. unable to feel anything because of coldnesspace n. a single step in running or walkingpartner n. sb. who does the same activity with you 伙伴paw n. an animal's foot that has nails or clawspierce v. to make a hole in or through (sth.) using sth. with a sharp pointpine n. 松树poke v. to push or move sth. through a space or openingpuppy n. a young dog ("puppy-wool" here refers to the wool of the wolf cub)realize v. to understandrestless adj. unwilling or unable to stay quiet and stillrifle n. a type of gun fired from the shoulderrocket n. 火箭rooster n. (AmE) a cockrumble n. a deep continuous rolling soundshack n. a small and not very strong buildingshiver v. to shake, esp. from cold or fearslash v. to make a long deep cut with sth. sharp like a knifesmother v. to cover thicklysnarl n. a low angry sound while showing the teethsoaked adj. very wet with some liquidspear v. 用鱼叉刺spurt v. to come out quickly and suddenly in a thin, powerful streamsquat v. to sit with your knees bent under you, your bottom off the ground, and balancing on your feet 蹲；蹲坐squirrel n. a small animal with a long furry tail that climbs trees and eats nuts 松鼠stir v. to move slightlythicken v. to become thickerthrill v. to feel very happy and excitedtoll n. to take a ～: to have a very bad effect on sb. or sth.trapper n. a person who catches wild animals for their furunchained adj. without a chainwhimper v. to make low crying soundswiggle v. (infml) to move in small movements from side to side, or up and downwolf n. a wild animal that looks like a large dog and lives and hunts in groupswool n. the soft thick hair of sheep and some goats (Here it refers to the hair of the wolf.)Text A Maheegun My Brother Eric AclandThe year I found Maheegun, spring was late in coming. That day, I was spearing fish with my grandfather when I heard the faint crying and found the shivering wolf cub.As I bent down, he moved weakly toward me. I picked him up and put him inside my jacket. Little Maheegun gained strength after I got the first few drops of warm milk in him. He wiggled and soon he was full and warm.My grandfather finally agreed to let me keep him. That year, which was my 14th, was the happiest of my life.Not that we didn't have our troubles. Maheegun was the most mischievous wolf cub ever. He was curious too. Like looking into Grandma's sewing basket — which he upset, scattering thread and buttons all over the floor. At such times, she would chase him out with a broom and Maheegun would poke his head around the corner, waiting for things to quiet down.That summer Maheegun and I became hunting partners. We hunted the grasshoppers that leaped about like little rockets. And in the fall, after the first snow our games took us to the nearest meadows in search of field mice. By then, Maheegun was half grown. Gone was the puppy-wool coat. In its place was a handsome black mantle.The winter months that came soon after were the happiest I could remember. They belonged only to Maheegun and myself. Often we would make a fire in the bushes. Maheegun would lay his head between his front paws, with his eyes on me as I told him stories.It all served to fog my mind with pleasure so that I forgot my Grandpa's repeated warnings, and one night left Maheegun unchained. The following morning in sailed Mrs. Yesno, wild with anger, who demanded Maheegun be shot because he had killed her rooster. The next morning, my grandpa announced that we were going to take Maheegun to the north shack.By the time we reached the lake where the trapper's shack stood, Maheegun seemed to have become restless. Often he would sit with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and that as if to check the wind.The warmth of the stove soon brought sleep to me. But something caused me to wake up with a start. I sat up, and in the moon-flooded cabin was my grandfather standing beside me. "Come and see, son," whispered my grandfather.Outside the moon was full and the world looked all white with snow. He pointed to a rock that stood high at the edge of the lake. On the top was the clear outline of a great wolf sitting still, ears pointed, alert, listening."Maheegun," whispered my grandfather.Slowly the wolf raised his muzzle. "Oooo-oo-wow-wowoo-oooo!"The whole white world thrilled to that wild cry. Then after a while, from the distance came a softer call in reply. Maheegun stirred, with the deep rumble of pleasure in his throat. He slipped down the rock and headed out across the ice."He's gone," I said."Yes, he's gone to that young she-wolf." My grandfather slowly filled his pipe. "He will take her for life, hunt for her, protect her. This is the way the Creator planned life. No man can change it."I tried to tell myself it was all for the best, but it was hard to lose my brother.For the next two years I was as busy as a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. But once or twice when I heard wolf cries from distant hills, I would still wonder if Maheegun, in his battle for life, found time to remember me.It was not long after that I found the answer.Easter came early that year and during the holidays I went to visit my cousins.My uncle was to bring me home in his truck. But he was detained by some urgent business. So I decided to come back home on my own.A mile down the road I slipped into my snowshoes and turned into the bush. The strong sunshine had dimmed. I had not gone far before big flakes of snow began drifting down.The snow thickened fast. I could not locate the tall pine that stood on the north slope of Little Mountain. I circled to my right and stumbled into a snow-filled creek bed. By then the snow had made a blanket of white darkness, but I knew only too well there should have been no creek there.I tried to travel west but only to hit the creek again. I knew I had gone in a great circle and I was lost.There was only one thing to do. Camp for the night and hope that by morning the storm would have blown itself out. I quickly made a bed of boughs and started a fire with the bark of an old dead birch. The first night I was comfortable enough. But when the first gray light came I realized that I was in deep trouble. The storm was even worse. Everything had beensmothered by the fierce whiteness.The light of another day still saw no end to the storm. I began to get confused. I couldn't recall whether it had been storming for three or four days.Then came the clear dawn. A great white stillness had taken over and with it, biting cold. My supply of wood was almost gone. There must be more.Slashing off green branches with my knife, I cut my hand and blood spurted freely from my wound. It was some time before the bleeding stopped. I wrapped my hand with a piece of cloth I tore off from my shirt. After some time, my fingers grew cold and numb, so I took the bandage off and threw it away.How long I squatted over my dying fire I don't know. But then I saw the gray shadow between the trees. It was a timber wolf. He had followed the blood spots on the snow to the blood-soaked bandage."Yap... yap... yap... yoooo!" The howl seemed to freeze the world with fear.It was the food cry. He was calling, "Come, brothers, I have found meat." And I was the meat!Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, I thought, their teeth would pierce my bones.Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others."Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both — I don't know. Maheegun whimpered too.Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces —head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned it into life.The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed."You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two.""And Maheegun" I asked weakly. "He should be fine. He is with his own kind."Lesson Threeapproval n. official permissionbond n. a written document in which a government or company promises to pay back money that it has borrowed, often with interest 债券certainty n. the state of being certaincommit v. to do sth. wrong or illegalcontribution n. sth. you say or do in order to help make sth. successful 贡献convict v. to find sb. guilty of a crime, esp. in a court of lawn. a person who has been found guilty of a crime and sent to prisoncostly adj. having a high price; expensivecourt n. a place where legal matters are decided by a judge and jurycurrent adj. belonging to the present timedecade n. a period of 10 yearsdeter v. to discourage; to persuade sb. not to do sth., by making him realize it will be difficult or will have unpleasant resultsdismiss v. to ～a court case: to stop a court case before a result is reachedelite adj. considered to be the best of their kind 属于精英的，最好的estimate n. a calculation of a quantity or number 估计evidence n. the information used in a court of law to try to prove sth.execute v. to kill sb. as a lawful punishment for a serious crimefeasible adj. able to be carried out or donefeature n. a typical part or qualityillustrate v. to show sth. by giving related examplesimprison v. to put in prisoninmate n. one who is kept in a prisonmaximum adj. the largest number or amountnonetheless adv. in spite of that; yet; neverthelessnontraffic adj. not related to trafficobservation n. what one has noticedoffender n. sb. who is guilty of a crime; a criminaloffense n. an illegal action or a crimeper prep. for eachpersonnel n. all the people employed in a particular organizationprecisely adv. exactlyprior adj. happening beforeproperty n. belongings; possessionsprosecute v. to bring a criminal charge against sb. in a court of lawrate n. the speed at which sth. happens over a period of timereality n. the real situation; the real state of affairsreject v. to refuse to acceptSaudi Arabia 沙特阿拉伯severity n. the state of being severesocial adj. relating to societysolution n. a way of solving a problem or dealing with a difficult situationstatistics n. facts shown in numbersteenage adj. aged between 13 and 19theft n. the crime of stealingtough adj. determined and strictvictim n. a person who suffers as a result of other people's criminal actions, etc.violence n. the use of force to hurt other people physicallyvoter n. a person who has the legal right to vote, esp. in a political electionwitness n. a person who tells in a court of law what he saw or what he knows about a crimeProper Name Alcatraz 阿尔卡特拉兹（美国圣弗兰西斯科湾——即旧金山湾——的小岛，1933—1963年为一座联邦监狱所在地。
大学英语精读2课文翻译全（2）
Unit1 The DinnerParty关于男人是否比女人更勇敢的一场激烈争论以一种颇为出人意料的方式解决了。
晚宴莫娜·加德纳我最初听到这个故事是在印度，那儿的人们今天讲起它来仍好像确有其事似的——尽管任何一位博物学家都知道这不可能是真的。
后来有人告诉我，在第一次世界大战之前不久，一家杂志曾刊登过这个故事。
但登在杂志上的那篇故事以及写那篇故事的人，我却一直未能找到。
故事发生在印度。
某殖民地官员和他的夫人正举行盛大的晚宴。
筵席设在他们家宽敞的餐室里，室内大理石地板上没有铺地毯；屋顶明椽裸露；宽大的玻璃门外便是走廊。
跟他们一起就坐的客人有军官和他们的夫人，另外还有一位来访的美国博物学家。
席间，一位年轻的女士同一位少校展开了热烈的讨论。
年轻的女士认为，妇女已经有所进步，不再像过去那样一见到老鼠就吓得跳到椅子上；少校则不以为然。
他说：“一遇到危急情况，女人的反应便是尖叫。
而男人虽然也可能想叫，但比起女人来，自制力却略胜一筹。
这多出来的一点自制力正是真正起作用的东西。
”那个美国人没有参加这场争论，他只是注视着在座的其他客人。
在他这样观察时，他发现女主人的脸上显出一种奇异的表情。
她两眼盯着正前方，脸部肌肉在微微抽搐。
她向站在座椅后面的印度男仆做了个手势，对他耳语了几句。
男仆两眼睁得大大的，迅速地离开了餐室。
在座的客人中除了那位美国人以外谁也没注意到这一幕，也没有看到那个男仆把一碗牛奶放在紧靠门边的走廊上。
那个美国人突然醒悟过来。
在印度，碗中的牛奶只有一个意思——引蛇的诱饵。
他意识到餐室里一定有条眼镜蛇。
他抬头看了看屋顶上的椽子——那是最可能有蛇藏身的地方——但那上面空荡荡的。
室内的三个角落里也是空的，而在第四个角落里，仆人们正在等着上下一道菜。
现代大学英语精读2Unit3theriteofspring译文
现代大学英语精读2 Unit3the rite of spring春之祭说真的，我从来都不明白，我们到底为什么要有一个菜园子，为什么36年前，当我第一次在乡下买了房子以后，我会别的事情都不做，首先就挖一块菜地。
现在想想买一堆胡萝卜或者甜菜头，相对来说那么容易，而且又那么便宜，为什么还要自己去种呢？尤其是那些块根植物，自己种的和店里买的，根本就很难分辨。
这里肯定有人的本性在起作用。
人就喜欢脱离现实，毫无意义地瞎折腾。
再说，我又并非特别喜欢吃蔬菜，我宁可吃些油汪汪、香喷喷、一咬一口肉汁的东西，比如说热狗。
要说，如果能在窗外种热狗的话，那倒真的有了一种可以毫不犹豫为自己辩护的理由了。
可是，在现在这种情况下，我无法否认，每当4月来临，我就会发现自己走出家门，倚着院子外的篱笆，望着那块倒霉的地，十分理智地下定决心再也不去种它了。
然而，总有那么一天，当我早晨醒来的时候，一股香味似乎从窗外飘进来，就好像来自地球中心的泥土的清香味。
这时，太阳似乎也突然认真起来，它投射到地毯上的光似乎比往常要更加深黄。
那些鸟开始歇斯底里地鸣叫，心里和我一样，想着那些美味可口的虫子正从那融化的土中慢慢爬出来。
让我回去看那块地的并不只是快乐，而是矛盾和斗争。
每年碰到的问题是一样的：今年我们该使用什么方法？前几年，我们在一行行的蔬菜之间放上了36英寸宽的黑塑料薄膜。
效果极好，干旱的时候能够保湿，而且保证没有杂草。
但是黑塑料薄膜一看就是来自工厂的东西，一点浪漫的情调都没有。
所以我就逐步改用干草作覆盖料。
我们收割了不少干草，草一腐烂，的确能改善土壤的结构。
再说，看起来很舒服，而且又不花一分钱。
家里有个菜园子能是你感觉到我们这个小小星球的表面有多娇嫩、多丰饶、多容易被毁坏。
(完整版)现代大学英语精读2Unit3theriteofspring译文
现代大学英语精读2 Unit3 the rite of spring春之祭说真的，我从来都不明白，我们到底为什么要有一个菜园子，为什么36年前，当我第一次在乡下买了房子以后，我会别的事情都不做，首先就挖一块菜地。
现在想想买一堆胡萝卜或者甜菜头，相对来说那么容易，而且又那么便宜，为什么还要自己去种呢？尤其是那些块根植物，自己种的和店里买的，根本就很难分辨。
这里肯定有人的本性在起作用。
人就喜欢脱离现实，毫无意义地瞎折腾。
再说，我又并非特别喜欢吃蔬菜，我宁可吃些油汪汪、香喷喷、一咬一口肉汁的东西，比如说热狗。
要说，如果能在窗外种热狗的话，那倒真的有了一种可以毫不犹豫为自己辩护的理由了。
可是，在现在这种情况下，我无法否认，每当4月来临，我就会发现自己走出家门，倚着院子外的篱笆，望着那块倒霉的地，十分理智地下定决心再也不去种它了。
然而，总有那么一天，当我早晨醒来的时候，一股香味似乎从窗外飘进来，就好像来自地球中心的泥土的清香味。
这时，太阳似乎也突然认真起来，它投射到地毯上的光似乎比往常要更加深黄。
那些鸟开始歇斯底里地鸣叫，心里和我一样，想着那些美味可口的虫子正从那融化的土中慢慢爬出来。
让我回去看那块地的并不只是快乐，而是矛盾和斗争。
每年碰到的问题是一样的：今年我们该使用什么方法？前几年，我们在一行行的蔬菜之间放上了36英寸宽的黑塑料薄膜。
效果极好，干旱的时候能够保湿，而且保证没有杂草。
但是黑塑料薄膜一看就是来自工厂的东西，一点浪漫的情调都没有。
所以我就逐步改用干草作覆盖料。
我们收割了不少干草，草一腐烂，的确能改善土壤的结构。
再说，看起来很舒服，而且又不花一分钱。
家里有个菜园子能是你感觉到我们这个小小星球的表面有多娇嫩、多丰饶、多容易被毁坏。
在我们那块50英尺宽、70英尺长的土地上，肯定有十几种不同的土壤。
西红柿在某个地方长不好，但是在另一个地方却长得很好。
其他庄稼也一样。
我想，要是你在地里洒满化肥，这种差别就不会如此明显。
(完整word版)现代大学英语精读2unit1Anotherschoolyear——whatfor
现代大学英语精读2Unit 1 Another school year------what for?又是一个新学年——为什么上大学？约翰查尔迪首先，给大家讲讲我教书生涯刚开始的时候经历过的一次失败吧。
那是在1940年的一月，我当时研究生刚毕业，开始在堪萨斯市大学教书。
我的学生中有个瘦高个儿，活像个长着头发的扁豆架支杆。
他走进课堂，坐了下来，双手在胸前交叉着，看了看我，好像在说：好吧，教我些什么吧。
两个礼拜以后，我们开始讲《哈姆雷特》。
又过了三个礼拜，他来到我的办公室，双手叉腰。
“我告诉你，”他说，“我到这里来是为了当个药剂师。
我干嘛要读这些玩意？”说着他用手指了指桌子上我的那本书，因为他自己没有带书来。
我当时虽然是个初出茅庐的新教师，可我也能告诉这位一些理由。
我可以向他指出，他进的不是一所制药学校，而是一所大学。
修满大学课程他就能得到一份证书，上面写着“理学士”，而不是“合格的药剂师”。
这份证书说明他接受过制药的专门训练，同时还说明，他受到过人类文明思想的熏陶。
换言之，他上的不是一所职业技术学校，而是一所大学，学生上大学既要接受职业训练，也要接受人文教育。
我完全可以对他说这些话的，但是很明显，他不会在大学坚持太久，他懂不懂这些道理无关紧要。
尽管如此，我当时很年轻，有很强的责任心，所以就试着这么跟他解释：“你这一辈子，每天大概平均有二十四个小时。
热恋的时候，你会觉得一天的时间短一点，而失恋的时候，则会长一些。
但是平均起来，大致就是这个数。
这其中的八个小时，你基本上是在睡觉。
“每个工作日，你大约需要工作八小时，我希望你会用来做些有用的事情。
假设你修完了制药，或者土木工程、法律或是其他学科的课程，那么在这八小时里，你会使用你的专业技术：在配制阿司匹林的时候，确保里面不掺进氰化物；在搞工程设计的时候，确保牛不会跳进篱笆里；当律师时，就要确保你的委托人不会因为你的无能而坐上电椅。
这些都是非常有用的职业，都需要人们应该尊重的技能，这些技能都能帮助你满足你的基本需求。
现代大学英语(第二版)精读2课文译文
第一课又一学年——为了什么？约翰•切阿迪给你们讲讲我刚当老师时候的一次失败经历吧。
那是1940年的1月，我从研究生院毕业不久，在堪萨斯城大学开始第一学期的教学工作。
一个瘦高，长得就像顶上有毛的豆角架一样的男学生走进我的课堂，坐下，双臂交叉放在胸前，看着我，好像在说：“好吧，教我一些东丙。
”两周后我们开始学习《哈姆雷特》。
三周后他双手叉腰走进我的办公室，“看，”他说，“我来这是学习当药剂师的。
我为什么必须读这个？”由于没有随身带着日己的书，他就指着桌子上放着的我的那木。
虽然我是位新老师，我木来可以告诉这个家伙许多事情的。
我木来可以指出，他考入的4、是制药技工培训学校而是大学，而且他在毕业时，应该得到一张写有理学学士而不是“合格的磨药工”的学位证书。
这证书会证明他专修过药剂学，但它还能进一步证明他曾经接触过一些人类发展史上产生的思想。
换均话说，他上的不是技能培训学校而是大学，在火学里学生既要得到培训又要接受教冇。
我本来可以把这些话都告诉他，但是很明显，他不会待很长时间，说了也没用。
但是，由于我当时很年轻而且责任感也很强，我尽景把我的意思这样表达出来：“在你的余生中，”我说，“平均每天24小时左右。
谈恋爱时，你会觉得它有点短；失恋时，你会觉得它有点长。
但平均每天24小时会保持不变。
在其余的大约8个小时的时间里，你会处于睡眠状态。
“然后在每个工作日8个小时左右的时间里，我希望你会忙于一些有用的事情。
假设你毕业于一所药科大学——或工程大学，法学院，或者其他什么大学——在那8 个小时时间里，你将用到你的专业技能。
作为一个药剂师，你要确保氣化物没有和阿斯匹林混在一起；作为一个工程师，你要确保一切都在你的掌控之中；作为一个律师，你要保证你的当事人没有因为你的无能而被处以电刑。
这呰都是有用的T.作，它们涉及到的技能每个人都必须尊重，而且它们都能给你带来基木的满足。
无论你还干些什么，这些技能都很可能是你养家糊I」的木领。
现代大学英语第二版精读2 Unit 3 Translation The Rite of Spring
春之祭亚瑟•米勒说真的，我从来都不明白，我们到底为什么要有一个菜园子，为什么36年前，当我第一次在乡下买了房子以后，我会别的事情都不做，首先就挖一块菜地。
想想现在买一堆胡萝卜或者甜菜头，相对来说，那么容易，而且又那么便宜，为什么还要自己去种呢？尤其是那些块根植物，自己种的和店里买的，根本就很难分辨。
这里肯定有人的本性在起作用。
人就喜欢脱离现实，毫无意义地瞎折腾。
再说，我又并非特别喜欢吃蔬菜。
我宁可吃些油汪汪、香喷喷、一咬一口肉汁的东西，比如说热狗。
要说，如果能在窗外种热狗的话，那倒真的有了一种可以毫不犹豫为自己辩护的理由。
可是，在现在这种情况下，我无法否认，每当4月来临，我就会发现自己走出家门，倚着园子外的篱笆，望着那块倒霉的地，十分理智地下定决心再也不去种它了。
然而，总有那么一天，当我早晨醒来的时候，一股香味似乎从窗外飘进来，就好像来自地球中心的泥土的清香味。
这时，太阳似乎也突然认真起来，它投射到地毯上的光似乎比往常要更加深黄。
那些鸟开始歇斯底里地鸣叫，心里和我一样，想着那些美味可口的虫子正从那融化的土中慢慢爬出来。
让我回去看那块地的并不只是快乐，而是矛盾和斗争。
每年碰到的问题是一样的;今年我们该使用什么方法？前几年，我们在一行行的蔬菜之间放上了 36英寸宽的黑塑料薄膜。
效果极好。
干旱的时候能够保湿，而且保证没有杂草。
但是黑塑料薄膜一看就是来自工厂的东西，—点浪漫的情调都没有。
所以我就逐步改用干草作覆盖料。
我们收割了不少干草，草一腐烂，的确能改善土壤的结构。
再说，看起来很舒服，而且又不花一分钱。
家里有个菜园子能使你感觉到我们这个小小的星球的表面有多娇嫩，多丰饶，多容易被毁坏。
在我们那块50英尺宽、70英尺长的土地上，肯定有十几种不同的土壤。
西红柿在某个地方长不好，但是在另外一个地方却长得很好。
其他庄稼也一样。
我想，要是你在地里撒满化肥，这种差别就不会那么明显。
但是，我用化肥非常节省。
我只放一点在播了种子的地方，而不是漫撒在整片地上。
大学英语精读2课文翻译全
Unit1 那个美国人没有参加这场争论，他只是注视着在座的其他客人。
在他这样观察时，他发现女主人的脸上显出一种奇异的表情。
她两眼盯着正前方，脸部肌肉在微微抽搐。
她向站在座椅后面的印度男仆做了个手势，对他耳语了几句。
男仆两眼睁得大大的，迅速地离开了餐室。
在座的客人中除了那位美国人以外谁也没注意到这一幕，也没有看到那个男仆把一碗牛奶放在紧靠门边的走廊上。
那个美国人突然醒悟过来。
在印度，碗中的牛奶只有一个意思——引蛇的诱饵。
他意识到餐室里一定有条眼镜蛇。
他抬头看了看屋顶上的椽子——那是最可能有蛇藏身的地方——但那上面空荡荡的。
室内的三个角落里也是空的，而在第四个角落里，仆人们正在等着上下一道菜。
这样，剩下的就只有一个地方了——餐桌下面。
Unit2杰斐逊的勇气和理想主义是以知识为基础的。
他懂得的东西也许比同时代的任何人都要多。
在农业、考古学和医学方面他都是专家。
在人们普遍采用农作物轮作和土壤保持的做法之前一个世纪，他就这样做了。
他还发明了一种比当时任何一种都好的耕犁。
他影响了整个美国的建筑业，他还不断地制造出各种机械装置，使日常生活中需要做的许多工作变得更加容易。
在杰斐逊的众多才能中，有一种是最主要的：他首先是一位优秀的、不知疲倦的作家。
目前正在第一次出版的他的全集将超过五十卷。
他作为一个作家的才能很快便被发现了，所以，当1776年在费城要撰写《独立宣言》的时刻来到时，这一任务便落在了他肩上。
数以百万计的人们读到他写的下列词句都激动不已：“我们认为这些真理是不言而喻的：一切人生来就是平等的……”Unit3在我等着进大学期间，我在一份地方报纸上看到一则广告，说是在离我住处大约十英里的伦敦某郊区，有所学校要招聘一名教师。
我因为手头很拮据，同时也想做点有用的事，于是便提出了申请，但在提出申请的同时我也担心，自己一无学位，二无教学经验，得到这份工作的可能性是微乎其微的。
然而，三天之后，却来了一封信，叫我到克罗伊登去面试。
最新现代大学英语精读2课文文本
Lesson OnePre-class Work Read the text a third time. Learn the new words and expressions listed below.Glossaryaccomplishment n. the act of finishing sth. completely and successfully; achievementacquire v. to gain; to get for oneself by one's own workarrogantly adv. behaving in a proud and self-important wayaspirin n. 阿司匹林（解热镇痛药）assume v. to take as a fact; to supposeavailable adj. able to be used or easily foundbachelor n. ～'s degree: the first university degreebeanpole n. (infml) a very tall and thin personbull n. a male cowcertify v. to state that sth. is true or correct, esp. after some kind of testcivilized adj. educated and refined; having an advanced cultureclient n. a person who pays for help or advice from a person or organizationcontinuity n. the state of being continuouscyanide n. 氰化物democratic adj. based on the idea that everyone should have equal rights and should be involved in making important decisions 民主的disaster n. a sudden event such as a flood, storm, or accident which causes great damage or suffering. Here: a complete failuredrugstore n. (AmE) a shop which sells medicine (and a variety of other things)enroll v. to officially arrange to join a school or universityexpertise n. skill in a particular fieldexpose v. to enable sb. to see or experience new things or learn about new beliefs, ideas, etc.faculty n. (AmE) all the teachers of a university or collegefragment n. a small piece of sth.generate v. to producegrind v. to crush into small pieces or powder by pressing between hard surfaceship n. the fleshy part of either side of the human body above the legshumanity n. the qualities of being humanimplicitly adv. in an implied way 含蓄地inevitable adj. certain to happen and impossible to avoidliteral adj. in the basic meaning of a wordmaintain v. to continue to have as beforeNeanderthal n. an early type of human being who lived in Europe during the Stone Agenevertheless adv. in spite of that; yetpeculiar adj. belonging only to a particular person; special; oddpenetrating adj. showing the ability to understand things clearly and deeplypest n. (infml) an annoying personpharmacy n. a shop where medicines are prepared and sold. Here: the study of preparing drugs or medicines philosophy n. the study of the nature and meaning of existence, reality, etc. 哲学pill n. a small solid piece of medicine that you swallow wholepreside v. to lead; to be in chargeprofessional adj. relating to the work that a person does for an occupation, esp. work that requires special trainingpursuit n. the act of trying to achieve sth. in a determined waypush-button adj. using computers or electronic equipment rather than traditional methodsqualified adj. having suitable knowledge or experience for a particular jobrear v. to care for a person or an animal until they are fully grownresources n. possessions in the form of wealth, property, skills, etc. that you have 资源savage n. an uncivilized human beingscroll n. Here: a certificate of an academic degreesemester n. one of the two periods into which the year is divided in American high schools and universities (=term in BrE) sensitive adj. able to understand or appreciate art, music or literatureshudder v. to shake uncontrollably for a momentspecialize v. to limit all or most of one's study to particular subjects 专修species n. (infml) a type; a sortspecimen n. Here: a person who is unusual in some way and has a quality of a particular kindspiritual adj. related to your spirit rather than to your body or mindstore v. to keepsuffice v. to be enoughProper Names : Aristotle 亚里士多德Bach 巴赫Chaucer 乔叟Dante 但丁Einstein 爱因斯坦Hamlet 哈姆雷特Homer 荷马La Rochefoucauld 拉罗什富科Shakespeare 莎士比亚Virgil 维吉尔Another School Year — What ForJohn CiardiRead the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes, dictionaries or the glossary yet.Let me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something." Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. "Look," he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff" And not having a book of his own to point to, he pointed to mine which was lying on the desk.New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things. I could have pointed out that he had enrolled, not in a drugstore-mechanics school, but in a college and that at the end of his course meant to reach for a scroll that read Bachelor of Science. It would not read: Qualified Pill-Grinding Technician. It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history. That is to say, he had not entered a technical training school but a university and in universities students enroll for both training and education.I could have told him all this, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't going to be around long enough for it to matter. Nevertheless, I was young and I had a high sense of duty and I tried to put it this way: "For the rest of your life," I said, "your days are going to average out to about twenty-four hours. They will be a little shorter when you are in love, and a little longer when you are out of love, but the average will tend to hold. For eight of these hours, more or less, you will be asleep." "Then for about eight hours of each working day you will, I hope, be usefully employed. Assume you have gone through pharmacy school —or engineering, or law school, or whatever —during those eight hours you will be using your professional skills. You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn't jump the fence, or that your client doesn't go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence. These are all useful pursuits. They involve skills every man must respect, and they can all bring you basic satisfactions. Along with everything else, they will probably be what puts food on your table, supports your wife, and rears your children. They will be your income, and may it always suffice.""But having finished the day's work, what do you do with those other eight hours Let's say you go home to your family. What sort of family are you raising Will the children ever be exposed to a reasonably penetrating idea at home Will you be presiding over a family that maintains some contact with the great democratic intellect Will there be a book in the house Willthere be a painting a reasonably sensitive man can look at without shuddering Will the kids ever get to hear Bach"That is about what I said, but this particular pest was not interested. "Look," he said, "you professors raise your kids your way; I'll take care of my own. Me, I'm out to make money.""I hope you make a lot of it," I told him, "because you're going to be badly stuck for something to do when you're not signing checks."Fourteen years later I am still teaching, and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man's development we call history —then you have no business being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the push-button Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them — without making contact.No one gets to be a human being unaided. There is not time enough in a single lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know in order to be a civilized human.Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass the great stone halls of, say, M. I. T., and there cut into the stone are the names of the scientists. The chances are that few, if any, of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any of you who managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than did many of those great scholars of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew, because you can start from what the past learned for you.And as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so it is true of mankind's spiritual resources. Most of these resources, both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books are man's peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read Homer and your mind includes a piece of Homer's mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare — the list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift; it offers you a life you have not the time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not the time to travel in literal time. A civilized mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy.I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they hadn't read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become human if they hadn't read about it.I speak, I'm sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts college and for the faculties of the specialized schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include. The faculty, by its very existence, says implicitly: "We have been aided by many people, and by many books, in our attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that expertise."Lesson Twoalert adj. watchful and ready to meet dangerbirch n. 桦树bough n. a main branch of a treecabin n. a small roughly built housechase v. to drive away; to cause to leavecreek n. a long narrow streamcrouch v. to lower the body close to the ground by bending the knees and backcub n. a young meat-eating wild animal like bear, lion, tiger, wolf, etc.detain v. to keep sb. from leaving during a certain timedim v. to become less brightdoc n. (infml AmE) a doctordrift v. to be driven along by windflake n. a very small flat thin piece that breaks away easily from sth. else; snow ～: 雪花grasshopper n. 蚱蜢howl n. a long loud cry, esp. made by wolves as in pain, anger, etc.leap v. to jump high into the airlick v. to move the tongue across the surface of sth. in order to eat it or clean itmantle n. a loose outer sleeveless garment. Here it is used figuratively.meadow n. a field with wild grass and flowersmischievous adj. eager to have fun by playing harmless tricksmuzzle n. the nose and mouth of an animal such as a dog, a wolf or a horsenumb adj. unable to feel anything because of coldnesspace n. a single step in running or walkingpartner n. sb. who does the same activity with you 伙伴paw n. an animal's foot that has nails or clawspierce v. to make a hole in or through (sth.) using sth. with a sharp pointpine n. 松树poke v. to push or move sth. through a space or openingpuppy n. a young dog ("puppy-wool" here refers to the wool of the wolf cub)realize v. to understandrestless adj. unwilling or unable to stay quiet and stillrifle n. a type of gun fired from the shoulderrocket n. 火箭rooster n. (AmE) a cockrumble n. a deep continuous rolling soundshack n. a small and not very strong buildingshiver v. to shake, esp. from cold or fearslash v. to make a long deep cut with sth. sharp like a knifesmother v. to cover thicklysnarl n. a low angry sound while showing the teethsoaked adj. very wet with some liquidspear v. 用鱼叉刺spurt v. to come out quickly and suddenly in a thin, powerful streamsquat v. to sit with your knees bent under you, your bottom off the ground, and balancing on your feet 蹲；蹲坐squirrel n. a small animal with a long furry tail that climbs trees and eats nuts 松鼠stir v. to move slightlythicken v. to become thickerthrill v. to feel very happy and excitedtoll n. to take a ～: to have a very bad effect on sb. or sth.trapper n. a person who catches wild animals for their furunchained adj. without a chainwhimper v. to make low crying soundswiggle v. (infml) to move in small movements from side to side, or up and downwolf n. a wild animal that looks like a large dog and lives and hunts in groupswool n. the soft thick hair of sheep and some goats (Here it refers to the hair of the wolf.)Text A Maheegun My Brother Eric AclandThe year I found Maheegun, spring was late in coming. That day, I was spearing fish with my grandfather when I heard the faint crying and found the shivering wolf cub.As I bent down, he moved weakly toward me. I picked him up and put him inside my jacket. Little Maheegun gained strength after I got the first few drops of warm milk in him. He wiggled and soon he was full and warm.My grandfather finally agreed to let me keep him. That year, which was my 14th, was the happiest of my life.Not that we didn't have our troubles. Maheegun was the most mischievous wolf cub ever. He was curious too. Like looking into Grandma's sewing basket — which he upset, scattering thread and buttons all over the floor. At such times, she would chase him out with a broom and Maheegun would poke his head around the corner, waiting for things to quiet down.That summer Maheegun and I became hunting partners. We hunted the grasshoppers that leaped about like little rockets. And in the fall, after the first snow our games took us to the nearest meadows in search of field mice. By then, Maheegun was half grown. Gone was the puppy-wool coat. In its place was a handsome black mantle.The winter months that came soon after were the happiest I could remember. They belonged only to Maheegun and myself. Often we would make a fire in the bushes. Maheegun would lay his head between his front paws, with his eyes on me as I told him stories.It all served to fog my mind with pleasure so that I forgot my Grandpa's repeated warnings, and one night left Maheegun unchained. The following morning in sailed Mrs. Yesno, wild with anger, who demanded Maheegun be shot because he had killed her rooster. The next morning, my grandpa announced that we were going to take Maheegun to the north shack.By the time we reached the lake where the trapper's shack stood, Maheegun seemed to have become restless. Often he would sit with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and that as if to check the wind.The warmth of the stove soon brought sleep to me. But something caused me to wake up with a start. I sat up, and in the moon-flooded cabin was my grandfather standing beside me. "Come and see, son," whispered my grandfather.Outside the moon was full and the world looked all white with snow. He pointed to a rock that stood high at the edge of the lake. On the top was the clear outline of a great wolf sitting still, ears pointed, alert, listening."Maheegun," whispered my grandfather.Slowly the wolf raised his muzzle. "Oooo-oo-wow-wowoo-oooo!"The whole white world thrilled to that wild cry. Then after a while, from the distance came a softer call in reply. Maheegun stirred, with the deep rumble of pleasure in his throat. He slipped down the rock and headed out across the ice."He's gone," I said."Yes, he's gone to that young she-wolf." My grandfather slowly filled his pipe. "He will take her for life, hunt for her, protect her. This is the way the Creator planned life. No man can change it."I tried to tell myself it was all for the best, but it was hard to lose my brother.For the next two years I was as busy as a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. But once or twice when I heard wolf cries from distant hills, I would still wonder if Maheegun, in his battle for life, found time to remember me.It was not long after that I found the answer.Easter came early that year and during the holidays I went to visit my cousins.My uncle was to bring me home in his truck. But he was detained by some urgent business. So I decided to come back home on my own.A mile down the road I slipped into my snowshoes and turned into the bush. The strong sunshine had dimmed. I had not gone far before big flakes of snow began drifting down.The snow thickened fast. I could not locate the tall pine that stood on the north slope of Little Mountain. I circled to my right and stumbled into a snow-filled creek bed. By then the snow had made a blanket of white darkness, but I knew only too well there should have been no creek there.I tried to travel west but only to hit the creek again. I knew I had gone in a great circle and I was lost.There was only one thing to do. Camp for the night and hope that by morning the storm would have blown itself out. I quickly made a bed of boughs and started a fire with the bark of an old dead birch. The first night I was comfortable enough. But when the first gray light came I realized that I was in deep trouble. The storm was even worse. Everything had beensmothered by the fierce whiteness.The light of another day still saw no end to the storm. I began to get confused. I couldn't recall whether it had been storming for three or four days.Then came the clear dawn. A great white stillness had taken over and with it, biting cold. My supply of wood was almost gone. There must be more.Slashing off green branches with my knife, I cut my hand and blood spurted freely from my wound. It was some time before the bleeding stopped. I wrapped my hand with a piece of cloth I tore off from my shirt. After some time, my fingers grew cold and numb, so I took the bandage off and threw it away.How long I squatted over my dying fire I don't know. But then I saw the gray shadow between the trees. It was a timber wolf. He had followed the blood spots on the snow to the blood-soaked bandage."Yap... yap... yap... yoooo!" The howl seemed to freeze the world with fear.It was the food cry. He was calling, "Come, brothers, I have found meat." And I was the meat!Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, I thought, their teeth would pierce my bones.Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others."Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both — I don't know. Maheegun whimpered too.Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces —head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned it into life.The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed."You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two.""And Maheegun" I asked weakly. "He should be fine. He is with his own kind."Lesson Threeapproval n. official permissionbond n. a written document in which a government or company promises to pay back money that it has borrowed, often with interest 债券certainty n. the state of being certaincommit v. to do sth. wrong or illegalcontribution n. sth. you say or do in order to help make sth. successful 贡献convict v. to find sb. guilty of a crime, esp. in a court of lawn. a person who has been found guilty of a crime and sent to prisoncostly adj. having a high price; expensivecourt n. a place where legal matters are decided by a judge and jurycurrent adj. belonging to the present timedecade n. a period of 10 yearsdeter v. to discourage; to persuade sb. not to do sth., by making him realize it will be difficult or will have unpleasant resultsdismiss v. to ～a court case: to stop a court case before a result is reachedelite adj. considered to be the best of their kind 属于精英的，最好的estimate n. a calculation of a quantity or number 估计evidence n. the information used in a court of law to try to prove sth.execute v. to kill sb. as a lawful punishment for a serious crimefeasible adj. able to be carried out or donefeature n. a typical part or qualityillustrate v. to show sth. by giving related examplesimprison v. to put in prisoninmate n. one who is kept in a prisonmaximum adj. the largest number or amountnonetheless adv. in spite of that; yet; neverthelessnontraffic adj. not related to trafficobservation n. what one has noticedoffender n. sb. who is guilty of a crime; a criminaloffense n. an illegal action or a crimeper prep. for eachpersonnel n. all the people employed in a particular organizationprecisely adv. exactlyprior adj. happening beforeproperty n. belongings; possessionsprosecute v. to bring a criminal charge against sb. in a court of lawrate n. the speed at which sth. happens over a period of timereality n. the real situation; the real state of affairsreject v. to refuse to acceptSaudi Arabia 沙特阿拉伯severity n. the state of being severesocial adj. relating to societysolution n. a way of solving a problem or dealing with a difficult situationstatistics n. facts shown in numbersteenage adj. aged between 13 and 19theft n. the crime of stealingtough adj. determined and strictvictim n. a person who suffers as a result of other people's criminal actions, etc.violence n. the use of force to hurt other people physicallyvoter n. a person who has the legal right to vote, esp. in a political electionwitness n. a person who tells in a court of law what he saw or what he knows about a crimeProper Name Alcatraz 阿尔卡特拉兹（美国圣弗兰西斯科湾——即旧金山湾——的小岛，1933—1963年为一座联邦监狱所在地。
现代大学英语精读Book2Unit4 The Man in the Water 课文原文
The man in the water1 As disasters go, this one was terrible, but not unique, certainly not among the worst US air crashes on record2. There was the unusual element of the bridge, of course, and the fact that the plane hit it at a moment of high traffic. Then, too, there was the location of the event. Washington, the city of form and rules, turned chaotic by a blast of real winter and a single slap of metal on metal. The jets from Washington National Airport that normally fly around the presidential monuments like hungry gulls are, for the moment represented by the one that fell. And there was the aesthetic clash as well—blue-and-green Air Florida, the name of a flying garden, to be sure. Still, there was nothing very special in any of it, expect death, which while always special, does not necessarily bring the nation to tears or to attention. Why, then, the shock here?2 Perhaps because the nation saw in this disaster something more than a mechanical failure. Perhaps because people saw in it no failure at all, but rather something successful about themselves. Here, after all, were two forms of nature in collision, the elements and human character. Last Wednesday, the elements, indifferent as ever, brought down Flight 90. And on that same afternoon, human nature—groping and struggling—rose to the occasion.3 Of the four acknowledged heroes of the event, three are able to account for their behavior. Donald Usher and Eugene Windsor, a park police helicopter team, risked their lives every time they dipped their skids into the water to pick up survivors. On television, side by side, they described their courage as all in the line of duty. Lenny Skutnik, a 28-year-old employee of the Congressional Budget Office, said: ”It’s something I never thought I would do”—referring to his jumping into the water to drag an injur ed woman to shore. Skutnik added that “somebody had to go in the water,” delivering every hero’s line that is no less admirable for being repeated. In fact, nobody had to go into the water. That somebody actually did so is part of the reason this particular tragedy sticks in the mind.4 But the person most responsible for the emotional impact of the disaster is the one known at first simply as “the man in the water.” Balding, probably in his 50s, a huge mustache. He was seen clinging with five other survivors to the tail section of the airplane. This man was describedby Usher and Windsor as appearing alert and in control. Every time they lowered a lifeline and flotation ring to him, he passed it on to another of the passengers. “In a mass casualty, you’ll find people like him,” said Windsor. “But I’ve never seen one with that commitment.” When the helicopter came back for him, the man had gone under. His selflessness was one reason the story held national attention; his anonymity another. The fact that he went unidentified gave him a universal character. For a while he was Everyman, and thus proof (as if one needed it) that no man is ordinary.5 Still, he could never have imagined such a capacity in himself. Only minutes before his character was tested, he was sitting in the ordinary plane among the ordinary passengers, dutifully listening to the stewardess telling him to fasten his seat belt and saying something about the “no smoking sign.” So our man relaxed with the others, some of whom would owe their lives to him. Perhaps he started to read, or to doze, or to regret some harsh remark made in the office that morning. Then suddenly he knew that the trip would not be ordinary. Like every other person on that flight, he was desperate to live, which makes his final act so stunning.6 For at some moment in the water he must have realized that he would not live if he continued to hand over the rope and ring to others. He had to know it, no matter how gradual the effect of the cold. He felt he had no choice. When the helicopter took off with what was to be the last survivor, he watched everything in the world move away from him, and he let it happen.7 Yet there was something else about our man that kept our thoughts on him, and which keeps our thoughts on him still. He was there, in the essential, classic circumstance. Man in nature. The man in the water. For its part, nature cared nothing about the five passengers. Our man, on the other hand, cared totally. So age-old battle began again in the Potomac. For as long as that man could last, they went at each other, nature and man; the one making no distinctions of good and evil, acting on no principles, offering no lifelines; the other acting wholly on distinctions, principles and, perhaps, on faith.8 Since it was he who lost the fight, we ought to come again to the conclusion that people are powerless in the world. In reality, we believe the opposite, and it takes the act of the man inthe water to remind us of our true feelings in this matter. It is not to say that everyone would have acted as he did, or as Usher, Windsor and Skutnik. Yet whatever moved these men to challenge death on behalf of their fellows is not peculiar to them. Everyone feels the possibility in himself. That is the enduring wonder of the story. That is why we would not let go of it. If the man in the water gave a lifeline to the people gasping for survival, he was likewise giving a lifeline to those who watched him.9 The odd thing is that we do not even really believe that the man in the water lost his fight. “Everything in Nature contains all the powers of Nature.” said Emerson. Exactly. The man in the water had his own natural powers. He could not make ice storms, or freeze the water until it froze the blood. But he could hand life over to a stranger, and that is a power of nature too. The man in the water set himself against an immovable, impersonal enemy; he fought it with kindness and he held it to a standoff. He was the best we can do.。
现代大学英语精读2课文
Unit1Another School Year — What ForLet me tell you one of the earliest disasters in my career as a teacher. It was January of 1940 and I was fresh out of graduate school starting my first semester at the University of Kansas City. Part of the student body was a beanpole with hair on top who came into my class, sat down, folded his arms, and looked at me as if to say "All right, teach me something." Two weeks later we started Hamlet. Three weeks later he came into my office with his hands on his hips. "Look," he said, "I came here to be a pharmacist. Why do I have to read this stuff" And not having a book of his own to point to, he pointed to mine which was lying on the desk. New as I was to the faculty, I could have told this specimen a number of things. I could have pointed out that he had enrolled, not in a drugstore-mechanics school, but in a college and that at the end of his course meant to reach for a scroll that read Bachelor of Science. It would not read: Qualified Pill-Grinding Technician. It would certify that he had specialized in pharmacy, but it would further certify that he had been exposed to some of the ideas mankind has generated within its history. That is to say, he had not entered a technical training school but a university and in universities students enroll for both training and education.I could have told him all this, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't going to be around long enough for it to matter.Nevertheless, I was young and I had a high sense of duty and I tried to put it this way: "For the rest of your life," I said, "your days are going to average out to about twenty-four hours. They will be a little shorter when you are in love, and a little longer when you are out of love, but the average will tend to hold. For eight of these hours, more or less, you will be asleep." "Then for about eight hours of each working day you will, I hope, be usefully employed. Assume you have gone through pharmacy school — or engineering, or law school, or whatever — during those eight hours you will be using your professional skills. You will see to it that the cyanide stays out of the aspirin, that the bull doesn't jump the fence, or that your client doesn't go to the electric chair as a result of your incompetence. These are all useful pursuits. They involve skills every man must respect, and they can all bring you basic satisfactions. Along with everything else, they will probably be what puts food on your table, supports your wife, and rears your children. They will be your income, and may it always suffice.""But having finished the day's work, what do you do with those other eight hours Let's say you go home to your family. What sort of family are you raising Will the children ever be exposed to a reasonably penetrating idea at home Will you be presiding over a family that maintains some contact with the great democratic intellect Will there be a book in the house Will there be a painting a reasonably sensitive man can look at without shuddering Will the kids ever get to hear Bach"That is about what I said, but this particular pest was not interested. "Look," he said, "you professors raise your kids your way; I'll take care of my own. Me, I'm out to make money.""I hope you make a lot of it," I told him, "because you're going to be badly stuck for something to do when you're not signing checks."Fourteen years later I am still teaching, and I am here to tell you that the business of the college is not only to train you, but to put you in touch with what the best human minds have thought. If you have no time for Shakespeare, for a basic look at philosophy, for the continuity of the fine arts, for that lesson of man's development we call history —then you have nobusiness being in college. You are on your way to being that new species of mechanized savage, the push-button Neanderthal. Our colleges inevitably graduate a number of such life forms, but it cannot be said that they went to college; rather the college went through them — without making contact.No one gets to be a human being unaided. There is not time enough in a s ingle lifetime to invent for oneself everything one needs to know in order to be a civilized human.Assume, for example, that you want to be a physicist. You pass the great stone halls of, say, M. I. T., and there cut into the stone are the names of the scientists. The chances are that few, if any, of you will leave your names to be cut into those stones. Yet any of you who managed to stay awake through part of a high school course in physics, knows more about physics than did many of those great scholars of the past. You know more because they left you what they knew, because you can start from what the past learned for you.And as this is true of the techniques of mankind, so it is true of mankind's spiritual resources. Most of these resources, both technical and spiritual, are stored in books. Books are man's peculiar accomplishment. When you have read a book, you have added to your human experience. Read Homer and your mind includes a piece of Homer's mind. Through books you can acquire at least fragments of the mind and experience of Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare — the list is endless. For a great book is necessarily a gift; it offers you a life you have not the time to live yourself, and it takes you into a world you have not the time to travel in literal time. A civilized mind is, in essence, one that contains many such lives and many such worlds. If you are too much in a hurry, or too arrogantly proud of your own limitations, to accept as a gift to your humanity some pieces of the minds of Aristotle, or Chaucer, or Einstein, you are neither a developed human nor a useful citizen of a democracy.I think it was La Rochefoucauld who said that most people would never fall in love if they hadn't read about it. He might have said that no one would ever manage to become human if they hadn't read about it.I speak, I'm sure, for the faculty of the liberal arts college and for the faculties of the specialized schools as well, when I say that a university has no real existence and no real purpose except as it succeeds in putting you in touch, both as specialists and as humans, with those human minds your human mind needs to include. The faculty, by its very existence, says implicitly: "We have been aided by many people, and by many books, in our attempt to make ourselves some sort of storehouse of human experience. We are here to make available to you, as best we can, that expertise."Unit2Maheegun My BrotherThe year I found Maheegun, spring was late in coming. That day, I was spearing fish with my grandfather when I heard the faint crying and found the shivering wolf cub.As I bent down, he moved weakly toward me. I picked him up and put him inside my jacket. Little Maheegun gained strength after I got the first few drops of warm milk in him. He wiggled and soon he was full and warm.My grandfather finally agreed to let me keep him.That year, which was my 14th, was the happiest of my life.Not that we didn't have our troubles. Maheegun was the most mischievous wolf cub ever. Hewas curious too. Like looking into Grandma's sewing basket —which he upset, scattering thread and buttons all over the floor. At such times, she would chase him out with a broom and Maheegun would poke his head around the corner, waiting for things to quiet down.That summer Maheegun and I became hunting partners. We hunted the grasshoppers that leaped about like little rockets. And in the fall, after the first snow our games took us to the nearest meadows in search of field mice. By then, Maheegun was half grown. Gone was the puppy-wool coat. In its place was a handsome black mantle.The winter months that came soon after were the happiest I could remember. They belonged only to Maheegun and myself. Often we would make a fire in the bushes. Maheegun would lay his head between his front paws, with his eyes on me as I told him stories.It all served to fog my mind with pleasure so that I forgot my Grandpa's repeated warnings, and one night left Maheegun unchained. The following morning in sailed Mrs. Yesno, wild with anger, who demanded Maheegun be shot because he had killed her rooster. The next morning, my grandpa announced that we were going to take Maheegun to the north shack.By the time we reached the lake where the trapper's shack stood, Maheegun seemed to have become restless. Often he would sit with his nose to the sky, turning his head this way and that as if to check the wind.The warmth of the stove soon brought sleep to me. But something caused me to wake up with a start. I sat up, and in the moon-flooded cabin was my grandfather standing beside me. "Come and see, son," whispered my grandfather.Outside the moon was full and the world looked all white with snow. He pointed to a rock that stood high at the edge of the lake. On the top was the clear outline of a great wolf s itting still, ears pointed, alert, listening."Maheegun," whispered my grandfather.Slowly the wolf raised his muzzle. "Oooo-oo-wow-wowoo-oooo!"The whole white world thrilled to that wild cry. Then after a while, from the distance came a softer call in reply. Maheegun stirred, with the deep rumble of pleasure in his throat. He slipped down the rock and headed out across the ice."He's gone," I said."Yes, he's gone to that young she-wolf." My grandfather slowly filled his pipe. "He will take her for life, hunt for her, protect her. This is the way the Creator planned life. No man can change it."I tried to tell myself it was all for the best, but it was hard to lose my brother.For the next two years I was as busy as a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. But once or twice when I heard wolf cries from distant hills, I would still wonder if Maheegun, in his battle for life, found time to remember me.It was not long after that I found the answer.Easter came early that year and during the holidays I went to visit my cousins.My uncle was to bring me home in his truck. But he was detained by some urgent business. So I decided to come back home on my own.A mile down the road I slipped into my snowshoes and turned into the bush. The strong sunshine had dimmed. I had not gone far before big flakes of snow began drifting down.The snow thickened fast. I could not locate the tall pine that stood on the north slope of Little Mountain. I circled to my right and stumbled into a snow-filled creek bed. By then the snowhad made a blanket of white darkness, but I knew only too well there should have been no creek there.I tried to travel west but only to hit the creek again. I knew I had gone in a great circle and I was lost.There was only one thing to do. Camp for the night and hope that by morning the storm would have blown itself out. I quickly made a bed of boughs and started a fire with the bark of an old dead birch. The first night I was comfortable enough. But when the first gray light came I realized that I was in deep trouble. The storm was even worse. Everything had been smothered by the fierce whiteness.The light of another day still saw no end to the storm. I began to get confused. I couldn't recall whether it had been storming for three or four days.Then came the clear dawn. A great white stillness had taken over and with it, biting cold. My supply of wood was almost gone. There must be more.Slashing off green branches with my knife, I cut my hand and blood spurted freely from my wound. It was some time before the bleeding stopped. I wrapped my hand with a piece of cloth I tore off from my shirt. After some time, my fingers grew cold and numb, so I took the bandage off and threw it away.How long I squatted over my dying fire I don't know. But then I saw the gray shadow between the trees. It was a timber wolf. He had followed the blood spots on the snow to the blood-soaked bandage."Yap... yap... yap... yoooo!" The howl seemed to freeze the world with fear.It was the food cry. He was calling, "Come, brothers, I have found meat." And I was the meat! Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, I thought, their teeth would pierce my bones.Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others."Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both — I don't know. Maheegun whimpered too.Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces — head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned it into life.The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed."You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two." "And Maheegun" I asked weakly."He should be fine. He is with his own kind."Unit3More Crime and Less PunishmentIf you are looking for an explanation of why we don't get tough with criminals, you need only look at the numbers. Each year almost a third of the households in America are victims of violence or theft. This amounts to more than 41 million crimes, many more than we are able to punish. There are also too many criminals. The best estimates suggest that 36 million to 40 million people (16 to 18 percent of the U. S. population) have arrest records for nontraffic offenses. We already have 2. 4 million people under some form of correctional supervision, 412, 000 of them locked away in a prison cell. We don't have room for any more!The painful fact is that the more crime there is the less we are able to punish it. This is why the certainty and severity of punishment must go down when the crime rate goes up. Countries like Saudi Arabia can afford to give out harsh punishments precisely because they have so little crime. But can we afford to cut off the hands of those who committed more than 35 million property crimes each year Can we send them to prison Can we execute more than 22,000 murderersWe need to think about the relationship between punishment and crime in a new way. A decade of careful research has failed to provide clear and convincing evidence that the threat of punishment reduces crime. We think that punishment deters crime, but it just might be the other way around. It just might be that crime deters punishment: that there is so much crime that it simply cannot be punished.This is the situation we find ourselves in today. Just as the decline in the number of high-school graduates has made it easier to gain admission to the college of one's choice, the gradual increase in the criminal population has made it more difficult to get into prison. While elite colleges and universities still have high standards of admissions, some of the most "exclusive" prisons now require about five prior serious crimes before an inmate is accepted into their correctional program. Our current crop of prisoners is an elite group, on the whole much more serious offenders than those who were once imprisoned in Alcatraz.These features show that it makes little sense to blame the police, judges or correctional personnel for being soft on criminals. There is not much else they can do. The police can't find most criminals and those they do find are difficult and costly to convict. Those convicted can't all be sent to prison. The society demands that we do everything we can against crime. The practical reality is that there is very little the police, courts or prisons can do about the crime problem. The criminal justice system must then become as powerless as a parent who has charge of hundreds of teenage children and who is nonetheless expected to answer the TV message: "It's 10 o'clock! Do you know where your children are"A few statistics from the Justice Department's recent "Report to the Nation on Crime and Justice" illustrate my point. Of every 100 serious crimes committed in America, only 33 areactually reported to the police. Of the 33 reported, about six lead to arrest. Of the six arrested, only three are prosecuted and convicted. The others are rejected or dismissed due to evidence or witness problems or are sent elsewhere for medical treatment instead of punishment. Of the three convicted, only one is sent to prison. The other two are allowed to live in their community under supervision. Of the select few sent to prison, more than half receive a maximum sentence of five years. The average inmate, however, leaves prison in about two years. Most prisoners gain early release not because parole boards are too easy on crime, but because it is much cheaper to supervise a criminal in the community. And, of course, prison officials must make room for the new prisoners sent almost daily from the courts.We could, of course, get tough with the people we already have in prison and keep them locked up for longer periods of time. Yet when measured against the lower crime rates this would probably produce, longer prison sentences are not worth the cost to state and local governments. Besides, those states that have tried to gain voters' approval for bonds to build new prisons often discover that the public is unwilling to pay for prison construction.And if it were willing to pay, long prison sentences may not be effective in reducing crime. In 1981, 124,000 convicts were released from prison. If we had kept them in jail for an additional year, how many crimes would have been prevented While it is not possible to know the true amount of crime committed by people released from prison in any given year, we do know the extent to which those under parole are jailed again for major crime convictions. This number is a surprisingly low 6 percent (after three years it rises to only 11 percent). Even if released prisoners commit an average of two crimes each, this would amount to only 15,000 crimes prevented: a drop in the bucket when measured against the 41 million crimes committed each year.More time spent in prison is also more expensive. The best estimates are that it costs an average of $13,000 to keep a person in prison for one year. If we had a place to keep the 124,000 released prisoners, it would have cost us $1.6 billion to prevent 15,000 crimes. This works out to more than $100,000 per crime prevented. But there is more. With the average cost of prison construction running around $50,000 per bed, it would cost more than $6 billion to build the necessary cells. The first-year operating cost would be $150,000 per crime prevented, worth it if the victim were you or me, but much too expensive to be feasible as a national policy.Faced with the reality of the numbers, I will not be so foolish as to suggest a so lution to the crime problem. My contribution to the public debate begins and ends with this simple observation: getting tough with criminals is not the answer.Unit4The Nightingale and the Rose"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student, "but in all my garden there is no red rose."From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him and she looked out through the leaves and wondered."No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose my life is made wretched.""Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung o f him, and now I see him."The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be there. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely and my heart will break.""Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nightingale. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and opals."The musicians will play upon their stringed instruments," said the young Student, "and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her," and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept."Why is he weeping" asked a green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air."Why, indeed" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam."Why, indeed" whispered a Daisy to his neighbor, in a soft, low voice."He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale."For a red rose" they cried, "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. But the Nightingale understood the Student's sorrow, and sat silent in the Oak-tree.Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.In the centre of the grass-plot stood a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."But the Tree shook its head."My roses are white," it answered, "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head."My roses are yellow," it answered, "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms In the meadow. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head."My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.""One red rose is all that I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it""There is a way," answered the Tree, "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.""Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid.""If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stainit with your own heart's blood.You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.""Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. Yet love is better than life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man"So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.The young Student was still lying on the grass, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes. "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy, you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover."The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him. But the Oak-tree understood and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale. "Sing me one last song," he whispered. "I shall feel lonely when you are gone."So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar. When she had finished her song, the Student got up."She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away. "That cannot be denied. But has she got feeling I am afraid not. In fact, like most artists, she is all style without any sincerity." And he went to his room, and lay down on his bed, and after a time, he fell asleep.And when the Moon shone in the heaven, the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart so the rose's heart remained white.And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb. And the marvelous rose became crimson. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as ruby was the heart.But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and。
大学英语精读2课文原文
I first heard this tale in India, where it is told as if true — though any naturalist would know it couldn’t be. Later someone told me that the story appeared in a magazine shortly before the First World War. That magazine story, and the person who wrote it, I have never been able to track down.The country is India. A colonial official and his wife are giving a large dinner party. They are seated with their guests —officers and their wives, and a visiting American naturalist — in their spacious dining room, which has a bare marble floor, open rafters and wide glass doors opening onto a veranda.A spirited discussion springs up between a young girl who says that women have outgrown the jumping-on-a-chair-at-the-sight-of-a-mouse era and a major who says that they haven’t.“A woman’s reaction in any crisis,” the major says, “is to scream. And while a man may feel like it, he has that ounce more of control than a woman has. And that last ounce is what really counts.”The American does not join in the argument but watches the other guests. As he looks, he sees a strange expression come over the face of the hostess. She is staring straight ahead, her muscles contracting slightly. She motions to the native boy standing behind her chair and whispers something to h im. The boy’s eyes widen: he quickly leaves the room.Of the guests, none except the American notices this or sees the boy place a bowl of milk on the veranda just outside the open doors.The American comes to with a start. In India, milk in a bowl means only one thing — bait for a snake. He realizes there must be a cobra in the room. He looks up at the rafters — the likeliest place — but they are bare. Three corners of the room are empty, and in the fourth the servants are waiting to serve the next course. There is only one place left — under the table.His first impulse is to jump back and warn the others, but he knows the commotion would frighten the cobra into striking. He speaks quickly, the tone of his voice so commanding that it silences everyone.“I want to know just what control everyone at this table has. I will count threehundred —that’s five minutes — and not one of you is to move a muscle. Those who move will forfeit 50 rupees. Ready!”The 20 people sit like stone images while he counts. He is saying “... two hundred and eighty…” when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the cobra emerge and make for the bowl of milk. Screams ring out as he jumps to slam the veranda doors safely shut.“You were right, Major!” the host exclaims. “A man has just shown us an example of perfect self-control.”“Just a minute,” the American says, turning to his hostess. “Mrs. Wynnes, how did you know that cobra was in the room?”A faint smile lights up the woman’s face as she replies: “Because it was crawling acr oss my foot.”Unit 2Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States, may be less famous than George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, but most people remember at least one fact about him: he wrote the Declaration of Independence.Although Jefferson lived more than 200 years ago, there is much that we can learn from him today. Many of his ideas are especially interesting to modern youth. Here are some of the things he said and wrote:Go and see. Jefferson believed that a free man obtains knowledge from many sources besides books and that personal investigation is important. When still a young man, he was appointed to a committee to find out whether the South Branch of the James River was deep enough to be used by large boats. While the other members of the committee sat in the state capitol and studied papers on the subject, Jefferson got into a canoe and made on-the-spot observations.You can learn from everyone. By birth and by education Jefferson belonged to the highest social class. Yet, in a day when few noble persons ever spoke to those of humble origins except to give an order, Jefferson went out of his way to talk withgardeners, servants, and waiters. Jefferson once said to the French nobleman, Lafayette, “You must go into the people’s homes as I have done, look into their cooking pots and eat their bread. If you will only do this, you may find out why people are dissatisfied and understand the revolution that is threatening France.”Judge for yourself. Jefferson refused to accept other people’s opinions without careful thought. “Neither believe nor reject anything,”he wrote to his nephew, “because any other person has rejected or believed it. Heaven has given you a mind for judging truth and error. Use it.”Jefferson felt that the people “may safely be trusted to hear everything true and false, and to form a correct judgment. Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.”Do what you believe is right. In a free country there will always be conflicting ideas, and this is a source of strength. It is conflict and not unquestioning agreement that keeps freedom alive. Though Jefferson was for many years the object of strong criticism, he never answered his critics. He expressed his philosophy in letters to a friend, “There are two sides to every question. If you take one side with decision and act on it with effect, those who take the other side will of course resent your actions.”Trust the future; trust the young. Jefferson felt that the present should never be chained to customs which have lost their usefulness. “No society,”he said, “can make a perpetual constitution, or even a perpetual law. The earth belongs to the living generation.”He did not fear new ideas, nor did he fear the future.”How much pain,”he remarked, “has been caused by evils which have never happened! I expect the best, not the worst. I steer my ship with hope, leaving fear behind.”Jefferson’s courage and idealism were based on knowledge. He probably knew more than any other man of his age. He was an expert in agriculture, archeology, and medicine. He practiced crop rotation and soil conservation a century before these became standard practice, and he invented a plow superior to any other in existence. He influenced architecture throughout America, and he was constantly producing devices for making the tasks of ordinary life easier to perform.Of all Jefferson’s many talents, one is central. He was above all a good and tireless writer. His complete works, now being published for the first time, willfill more than fifty volumes. His talent as an author was soon discovered, and when the time came to write the Declaration of Independence at Philadelphia in 1776, the task of writing it was his. Millions have thrilled to his words: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal ...”When Jefferson died on July 4, 1826, the 50th anniversary of American independence, he left his countrymen a rich legacy of ideas and examples. American education owes a great debt to Thomas Jefferson, who believed that only a nation of educated people could remain free.Unit 3While I was waiting to enter university, I saw advertised in a local newspaper a teaching post at a school in a suburb of London about ten miles from where I lived. Being very short of money and wanting to do something useful, I applied, fearing as I did so, that without a degree and with no experience in teaching my chances of getting the job were slim.However, three days later a letter arrived, asking me to go to Croydon for an interview. It proved an awkward journey: a train to Croydon station; a ten-minute bus ride and then a walk of at least a quarter of a mile. As a result I arrived on a hot June morning too depressed to feel nervous.The school was a red brick house with big windows. The front garden was a gravel square; four evergreen shrubs stood at each corner, where they struggled to survive the dust and fumes from a busy main road.It was clearly the headmaster himself that opened the door. He was short and fat. He had a sandy-coloured moustache, a wrinkled forehead and hardly any hair.He looked at me with an air of surprised disapproval, as a colonel might look at a private whose bootlaces were undone. ‘Ah yes,’he grunted. ‘You’d better come inside.’The narrow, sunless hall smelled unpleasantly of stale cabbage; the walls were dirty with ink marks; it was all silent. His study, judging by the crumbs onthe carpet, was also his dining-room. ‘You’d better sit down,’he said, and proceeded to ask me a number of questions: what subjects I had taken in my General School Certificate; how old I was; what games I played; then fixing me suddenly with his bloodshot eyes, he asked me whether I thought games were a vital part of a boy’s education. I mumbled something about not attaching too much importance to them. He grunted. I had said the wrong thing. The headmaster and I obviously had very little in common.The school, he said, consisted of one class of twenty-four boys, ranging in age from seven to thirteen. I should have to teach all subjects except art, which he taught himself. Football and cricket were played in the Park, a mile away on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.The teaching set-up filled me with fear. I should have to divide the class into three groups and teach them in turn at three different levels; and I was dismayed at the thought of teaching algebra and geometry —two subjects at which I had been completely incompetent at school. Worse perhaps was the idea of Saturday afternoon cricket; most of my friends would be enjoying leisure at that time.I said shyly, ‘What would my salary be?’‘Twelve pounds a week plus lunch.’Before I could protest, he got to his feet. ‘Now’, he said, ‘you’d better meet my wife. She’s the one who really runs this school.’This was the last straw. I was very young: the prospect of working under a woman constituted the ultimate indignity.Unit 4My father was a close friend of Albert Einstein. As a shy young visitor to Einstein’s home, I was made to feel at ease when Einstein said, “I have something to show you.”He went to his desk and returned with a Yo-Yo. He tried to show me how it worked but he couldn’t make it roll back up the string. When my turn came, I displayed my few tricks and pointed out to him that the incorrectly looped string had thrown the toy off balance. Einstein nodded, properly impressed by my skill and knowledge. Later, I bought a new Yo-Yo and mailed it to the Professor as a Christmas present, and received a poem of thanks.As a boy and then as an adult, I never lost my wonder at the personality that was Einstein. He was the only person I knew who had come to terms with himself and the world around him. He knew what he wanted and he wanted only this: to understand within his limits as a human being the nature of the universe and the logic and simplicity in its functioning. He knew there were answers beyond his intellectual reach. But this did not frustrate him. He was content to go as far as he could.In the 23 years of our friendship, I never saw him show jealousy, vanity, bitterness, anger, resentment, or personal ambition. He seemed immune to these emotions. He was beyond any pretension. Although he corresponded with many of the world’s most important people, his stationery carried only a watermark —W —for Woolworth’s.To do his work he needed only a pencil and a pad of paper. Material things meant nothing to him. I never knew him to carry money because he never had any use for it. He believed in simplicity, so much so that he used only a safety razor and water to shave. When I suggested that he try shaving cream, he said, “The razor and water do the job.”“But Professor, why don’t you try the cream just once?”I argued. “It makes shaving smoother and less painful.”He shrugged. Finally, I presented him with a tube of shaving cream. The next morning when he came down to breakfast, he was beaming with the pleasure of a new, great discovery. “You know, that cream really works,”he announced. “It doesn’t pull the beard. It feels wonderful.”Thereafter, he used the shaving cream every morning until the tube was empty. Then he reverted to using plain water.Einstein was purely and exclusively a theorist. He didn’t have the slightest interest in the practical application of his ideas and theories. His E=mc2 is probably the most famous equation in history —yet Einstein wouldn’t walk down the street to see a reactor create atomic energy. He won the Nobel Prize for his Photoelectric Theory, a series of equations that he considered relatively minor in importance, but he didn’t have any curiosity in observing how his theory made TV possible.My brother once gave the Professor a toy, a bird that balanced on the edge of abowl of water and repeatedly dunked its head in the water. Einstein watched it in delight, trying to deduce the operating principle. But he couldn’t.The next morning he announced, “I had thought about that bird for a long time before I went to bed and it must work this way ...”He began a long explanation. Then he stopped, realizing a flaw in his reasoning. “No, I guess that’s not it,”he said. He pursued various theories for several days until I suggested we take the toy apart to see how it did work. His quick expression of disapproval told me he did not agree with this practical approach. He never did work out the solution.Another puzzle that Einstein could never understand was his own fame. He had developed theories that were profound and capable of exciting relatively few scientists. Yet his name was a household word across the civilized world. “I’ve had good ideas, and so have other men,”he once said. “But it’s been my good fortune that my ideas have been accepted.”He was bewildered by his fame: people wanted to meet him; strangers stared at him on the street; scientists, statesmen, students, and housewives wrote him letters. He never could understand why he received this attention, why he was singled out as something special.Unit 5The villain in the atmosphere is carbon dioxide.It does not seem to be a villain. It is not very poisonous and it is present in the atmosphere in so small a quantity —only 0.034 percent —that it does us no harm.What’s more, that small quantity of carbon dioxide in the air is essential to life. Plants absorb carbon dioxide and convert it into their own tissue, which serve as the basic food supply for all of animal life (including human beings, of course). In the process they liberate oxygen, which is also necessary for all animal life.But here is what this apparently harmless and certainly essential gas is doing to us:The sea level is rising very slowly from year to year. In all likelihood, it will continue to rise and do so at a greater rate in the course of the next hundred years. Where there are low-lying coastal areas (where a large fraction of the world’s population lives) the water will advance steadily, forcing people to retreat inland.Eventually the sea will reach two hundred feet above its present level, and will be splashing against the windows along the twentieth floors of Manhattan’s skyscrapers. Florida will disappear beneath the waves, as will much of the British Isles, the crowded Nile valley, and the low-lying areas of China, India, and Russia.Not only will many cities be drowned, but much of the most productive farming areas of the world will be lost. As the food supply drops, starvation will be widespread and the structure of society may collapse under the pressure.And all because of carbon dioxide. But how does that come about? What is the connection?It begins with sunlight, to which the various gases of the atmosphere (including carbon dioxide) are transparent. Sunlight, striking the top of the atmosphere, travels right through miles of it to warm the Earth’s surface. At night, the Earth cools by radiating heat into space in the form of infrared radiation.However, the atmosphere is not quite as transparent to infrared radiation as it is to visible light. Carbon dioxide in particular tends to block such radiation. Less heat is lost at night, for that reason, than would be lost if carbon dioxide were not present in the atmosphere. Without the small quantity of that gas present, the Earth would be distinctly cooler, perhaps uncomfortably cool.We can be thankful that carbon dioxide is keeping us comfortably warm, but the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is going up steadily and that is where the villainy comes in.In 1958, carbon dioxide made up only 0.0316 percent of the atmosphere. Each year since, the concentration has crept upward and it now stands at 0.0340 percent. It is estimated that by 2020 the concentration will be nearly twice what it is now.This means that in the coming decades, Earth’s average temperature will go up slightly. As a result, the polar ice caps will begin to melt.Something like 90 percent of the ice in the world is to be found in the huge Antarctica ice cap, and another 8 percent is in the Greenland ice cap. If these ice caps begin to melt, the sea level will rise, with the result that I have already described.But why is the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere steadily rising?To blame are two factors. First of all, in the last few centuries, first coal, then oil and natural gas, have been burned for energy at a rapidly increasing rate. The carbon contained in these fuels, which has been safely buried underground for many millions of years, is now being burned to carbon dioxide and poured into the atmosphere at a rate of many tons per day.To make matters worse, Earth’s forests have been disappearing, slowly at first, but in the last couple of centuries quite rapidly. Right now it is disappearing at the rate of sixty-four acres per minute.Whatever replaces the forest —grassland or farms or scrub —produces plants that do not consume carbon dioxide at an equal rate. Thus, not only is more carbon dioxide being added to the atmosphere through burning of fuel, but as the forests disappear, less carbon dioxide is being removed from the atmosphere by plants.But this gives us a new perspective on the matter. The carbon dioxide is not rising by itself. It is people who are burning the coal, oil, and gas. It is people who are cutting down the forests. It is people, then, who are the villains.What is to be done?First, we must save our forests, and even replant them.Second, we must have new sources of fuel that do not involve the production of carbon dioxide. Nuclear power is one of them, but if that is thought too dangerous, there are other alternatives. There is the energy of waves, tides, wind, and the Earth’s interior heat. Most of all, there is the direct use of solar energy.All of this will take time, work, and money, to be true, but nations spend more time, work, and money in order to support competing military machines that can only destroy us all. Should we object to spending less time, work, and money in order to save us all?。
现代大学英语精读2 UNIT3 THE RITE OF SPRING译文
现代大学英语精读2Unit3the rite of spring春之祭说真的，我从来都不明白，我们到底为什么要有一个菜园子，为什么36年前，当我第一次在乡下买了房子以后，我会别的事情都不做，首先就挖一块菜地。
现在想想买一堆胡萝卜或者甜菜头，相对来说那么容易，而且又那么便宜，为什么还要自己去种呢？尤其是那些块根植物，自己种的和店里买的，根本就很难分辨。
这里肯定有人的本性在起作用。
人就喜欢脱离现实，毫无意义地瞎折腾。
再说，我又并非特别喜欢吃蔬菜，我宁可吃些油汪汪、香喷喷、一咬一口肉汁的东西，比如说热狗。
要说，如果能在窗外种热狗的话，那倒真的有了一种可以毫不犹豫为自己辩护的理由了。
可是，在现在这种情况下，我无法否认，每当4月来临，我就会发现自己走出家门，倚着院子外的篱笆，望着那块倒霉的地，十分理智地下定决心再也不去种它了。
然而，总有那么一天，当我早晨醒来的时候，一股香味似乎从窗外飘进来，就好像来自地球中心的泥土的清香味。
这时，太阳似乎也突然认真起来，它投射到地毯上的光似乎比往常要更加深黄。
那些鸟开始歇斯底里地鸣叫，心里和我一样，想着那些美味可口的虫子正从那融化的土中慢慢爬出来。
让我回去看那块地的并不只是快乐，而是矛盾和斗争。
每年碰到的问题是一样的：今年我们该使用什么方法？前几年，我们在一行行的蔬菜之间放上了36英寸宽的黑塑料薄膜。
效果极好，干旱的时候能够保湿，而且保证没有杂草。
但是黑塑料薄膜一看就是来自工厂的东西，一点浪漫的情调都没有。
所以我就逐步改用干草作覆盖料。
我们收割了不少干草，草一腐烂，的确能改善土壤的结构。
再说，看起来很舒服，而且又不花一分钱。
家里有个菜园子能是你感觉到我们这个小小星球的表面有多娇嫩、多丰饶、多容易被毁坏。
在我们那块50英尺宽、70英尺长的土地上，肯定有十几种不同的土壤。
西红柿在某个地方长不好，但是在另一个地方却长得很好。
其他庄稼也一样。
我想，要是你在地里洒满化肥，这种差别就不会如此明显。
大学英语精读2课文原文
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【现代大学英语精读2课文原文】大学英语精读2课文原文Beneath my clenched fingers the alder was wriggling like a small, frightened snake. My father saw that I was about to drop it.“Hang on to it!"“The branch is squirming," I repeated. "And I hear something that sounds like a river!""Open your eyes," my father ordered.I was stunned, as though he'd awakened me while I was dreaming."What does it mean?" I asked my father."It means that underneath us, right here, there's a little freshwater spring. If we dig, we could drink from it. I've just taught you how to find a spring. It's something my own father taught me. It isn't something you learn in school. And it isn't useless: a man can get along without writing andarithmetic, but he can never get along without water."Much later, I discovered that my father was famous in the region because of what the people called his "gift": beforedigging a well they always consulted him; they would watch him prospecting the fields or the hills, eyes closed, hands clenched on the fork of an alder bough. Wherever my father stopped, they marked the ground; there they would dig; and there water would gush forth.Years passed; I went to other schools, saw other countries, I had children, I wrote some books and my poor father is lying in the earth where so many times he had found fresh water.One day someone began to make a film about my village and its inhabitants, from whom I've stolen so many of the stories that I tell. With the film crew we went to see a farmer to capture the image of a sad man: his children didn't want to receive the inheritance he'd spent his whole life preparing for them—the finest farm in the area. While the technicians were getting cameras and microphones ready the farmer put his arm around my shoulders, saying:"I knew your father well.""Ah! I know. Everybody in the village knows each other. No one feels like an outsider.""You know what's under your feet?""Hell?" I asked, laughing."Under your feet there's a well. Before I dug I called in specialists from the Department of Agriculture; they did research, they analyzed shovelfuls of dirt; and they made a report where they said there wasn't any water on my land. With the family, the animals, the crops, I need water. When I saw that those specialists hadn't found any. I thought of your father and I asked him to e over. He didn't want to; I think he was prettyfed up with me because I'd asked those specialists instead of him. But finally came; he went and cut off a little branch, then he walked around for a while with his eyes shut; he stopped, he listened to something we couldn't hear and then he said to me: "Dig right here, there's enough water to get your whole flock drunk and drown your specialist besides." We dug and found water. Fine water that's never heard of pollution.The film people were ready; they called to me to take my place."I'm gonna show you something," said the farmer, keeping me back." You wait right here."He disappeared into a shack which he must have used to store things, then came back with a branch which he held out to me."I never throw nothing away; I kept the alder branch your father cut to find my water. I don't understand, it hasn't dried out."Moved as I touched the branch, kept out of I don't know what sense of piety—and which really wasn't dry—I had the feeling that my father was watching me over my shoulder; I closed my eyes and, standing above the spring my father had discovered, I waited for the branch to writhe, I hoped the sound of gushing water would rise to my ears.The alder stayed motionless in my hands and the water beneath the earth refused to sing.Somewhere along the roads I'd taken since the village of my childhood I had forgotten my father's knowledge."Don't feel sorry," said the man, thinking no doubt of his farm and his childhood; "nowadays fathers can't pass on anything to the next generation."And he took the alder branch from my hands.桤木树枝在我紧握的手指下扭动，如受惊的蛇一般。
父亲看到我想扔掉它。
“抓紧。
”“树枝在蠕动，“我又说一次。
”我听到像河流的声音！”“睁开眼睛，”父亲命令道。
我吃了一惊，好像被他从睡梦中叫醒一样。
“这是怎么回事？”我问父亲。
“这意味着在我们脚下，就在这儿，有个小淡水泉。
挖的话，就可以喝到水了。
我这是在教你怎么找到泉水。
这是我父亲教我的。
这些东西你在学校是学不到的。
它不是没用的知识：人不用写作和算术都可以生存，但不能没有水。
后来，我发现父亲在这里有名的原因是具备人们所说的天赋：每次挖井之前总来咨询他，他们都会看到他勘察田地或山岗，双眼紧闭，双手紧握桤木树杈。