中学必读经典英文短篇小说《A BUSH DANCE 》
《A worn path》的文体学分析
《A worn path》是美国著名女作家尤多拉·韦尔蒂（Eudora Welty）的作品。
在美国文学界，尤多拉·韦尔蒂被人们誉为短篇小说大师，人们常把她和俄罗斯作家契诃夫相提并论。
她曾凭借本文荣获了欧·亨利奖，此外她还获得过美国文学界的重要奖项普利策奖、美国图书评论家奖、美国图书奖、美国文学艺术金质奖章等美国文学界的重要荣誉。
小说主要讲述的是一个叫菲尼克斯（Phoenix）的黑人老奶奶，在圣诞节那天，从家里经过艰难的跋涉到城里为久病的小孙子拿药的故事，在入城的路上，她遇到了重重阻碍，包括凶猛的猎狗、遍布荆棘的灌木丛等，其中着重对她行路的过程进行了描述。
文体学研究的对象主要是语言特色。
本文试从语言特色（包括词汇、句法和语篇）层面来对这部名篇进行文体分析。
一、词汇的层面从词汇的层面来分析，这篇小说作为曾荣获过欧·亨利奖的经典之作，用词十分考究。
英语语言具有大量的词汇，从正式到不正式，从书面到口头，选词是一项重要工作，词汇的选择和使用能体现出作者的价值观和写作技巧，因为作者的每一个选词都是为作者的思想表达而服务的。
这篇小说使用了大量带有鲜活的自然色彩的词语，如pinewoods、pine needles、oaks、bush、cotton field和creek等。
小说故事的发生地是美国西南部的密西西比，这些词的使用与美国南部的自然环境相符合，使读者仿佛置身美国密西西比河流域，周围满是各种植物。
这其中cotton field（棉花田）一词，又与主人公的黑人身份和美国南北战争的历史有千丝万缕的联系。
此外，作者选用的一些形容词也别有深意。
比如frozen（冻裂的）、dark（黑暗的）、grave（庄严的/坟墓）、 still（停滞的）、dark striped dress（黑色的条纹）等，这些词写出了菲尼克斯赶路过程中，周围环境的恶劣和恐怖，也反衬出菲尼克斯的勇敢。
晨读夜诵 英语经典短篇小说大全集(英汉对照)
读书笔记
看完后自我感觉的英语水平良好，可是想想大部分小说我都读过中文的啊[流泪][抓狂]。 好书！文坛巨匠的经典短篇小说集，中英双语，附加文章鉴读。 中汉互译，既可以提高水平又可以当作一个部文学著作看。 通勤好伴侣！ it makes a perfect conpanion while be on commuting. sperating a unique world from the squeezing metro space. especially true in this summer it as a self saving secret straw.。 Reason is always cleaning up the mess for sensibility.感性：我想吃冰淇淋。理性：两块。 这是一本非常适合中学教师和高中学生课外诵读的英文书籍！一方面，认识了名著，另一方面，也有效的扩 大了自己的词汇量！。 书中所选的小说涵盖了不同类型和不同时期的作品，很适合每天读一点。 利用每天走在路上来来去去的时间，在厨房为家人准备三餐的时间，打扫家务的时间，泛听精读，居然可以 把想看想读的书囫囵吞枣的过一遍，以后有时间一定要慢慢来读。
5 The Last
Lesson最后一 课
A Horseman
in the Sky （1）空中骑士
（上）
A Horseman
in the Sky （2）空中骑士 （下）
作者介绍
感谢观看
Feuille d Album 画册的一页
Dusk黄昏
The Cop and the Anthem警察与赞美
诗
My Uncle Jules我 的叔叔于勒
A Chameleon变色龙
Fat and Thin胖子 和瘦子
汽车等待的时候英文短篇小说
汽车等待的时候英文短篇小说第一篇：汽车等待的时候英文短篇小说Promptly at the beginning of twilight, came again to that quiet corner of that quiet, small park the girl in gray.She sat upon a bench and read a book, for there was yet to come a half hour in which print could be accomplished.To repeat: Her dress was gray, and plain enough to mask its impeccancy of style and fit.A large meshed veil imprisoned her turban hat and a face that shone through it with a calm and unconscious beauty.She had come there at the same hour on the day previous, and on the day before that;and there was one who knew it.The young man who knew it hovered near, relying upon burnt sacrifices to the great joss, Luck.His piety was rewarded, for, in turning a page, her book slipped from her fingers and bounded from the bench a full yard away.The young man pounced upon it with instant avidity, returning it to its owner with that air that seems to flourish in parks and public placesthat is, of course, you don't know, but--“”Abandon the subject, if you please.Of course, I know.Now, tell me about these people passingand crowding, each way, along these paths.Where are they going? Why do they hurry so? Are they happy?“The young man had promptly abandoned his air of coquetry.His cue was now for a waiting part;he could not guess the role be would be expected to play.”It is interesting to watch them,“ he replied, postulating her mood.”It is the wonderful drama of life.Some are going to supper and some to--er--other places.One wonders what their histories are.“”I do not,“ said the girl;”I am not so inquisitive.I come hereto sit because here, only, can I be tear the great, common, throbbing heart of humanity.My part in life is cast where its beats are never felt.Can you surmise why I spoke to you, Mr.--?“”Parkenstacker,“ supplied the young man.Then be looked eager and hopeful.”No,“ said the girl, holding up a slender finger, and smiling slightly.”You would recognize it immediately.It is impossible to keep one's name out of print.Or even one's portrait.This veil and this hat of my maid furnish me with an incognito.You should have seen the chauffeur stare at it when he thought I did not see.Candidly, there are five or six names that belong in the holy of holies, and mine, by the accident of birth, is one of them.I spoke to you, Mr.Stackenpot--“”Parkenstacker,“ corrected the young man, modestly.”--Mr.Parkenstacker, because I wanted to talk, for once, with a natural man--one unspoiled by the despicable gloss of wealth and supposed social superiority.Oh!you do not know how weary I am of it--money, money, money!And of the men who surround me, dancing like little marionettes all cut by the same pattern.I am sick of pleasure, of jewels, of travel, of society, of luxuries of all kinds.“”I always had an idea,“ ventured the young man, hesitatingly, ”that money must be a pretty goodthing.“”A competence is to be desired.But when you leave so many millions that--!“ She concluded the sentence with a gesture of despair.”It is the monotony of it“ she continued, ”that palls.Drives, dinners, theatres, balls, suppers, with the gilding of superfluous wealth over it all.Sometimes the very tinkle of the ice in my champagne glass nearly drivesme mad.“Mr.Parkenstacker looked ing enuously interested.”I have always liked,“ he said, ”to read and hear about the ways of wealthy and fashionable folks.I suppose I am a bit of a snob.But I like to have my information accurate.Now, I had formed the opinion that champagne is cooled in the bottle and not by placing ice in the glass.“The girl gave a musical laugh of genuine amusement.”You should know,“ she explained, in an indulgent tone, ”that we of the non-useful class depend for our amusement upon departure from precedent.Just now it is a fad to put ice in champagne.The idea was originated by a visiting Prince of Tartary while dining at the Waldorf.It will soon give way to some other whim.Just as at a dinner party this week on Madison Avenue a green kid glove was laid by the plate of each guest to be put on and used while eating olives.“”I see,“ admitted the young man, humbly.”These special diversions of the inner circle do not become familiar to the common public.“”Sometimes,“ continued the girl, acknowledging his confession of error by a slight bow, ”I have thought that if I ever should love a man it would be one of lowly station.One who is a worker and not a drone.But, doubtless, the claims of caste and wealth will prove stronger than my inclination.Just now I am besieged by two.One is a Grand Duke of a German principality.I think he has, or has bad, a wife, somewhere, driven mad by his intemperance and cruelty.The other is an English Marquis, so cold and mercenary that I even prefer the diabolism of the Duke.What is it that impels me to tell you these things, Mr.Packenstacker?“Parkenstacker,” breathed the young man.“Indeed, you cannot know how much I appreciate your confidences.”The girl contemplated him with the calm, impersonal regard that befitted the difference in their stations.“Wha t is your line of business, Mr.Parkenstacker?” she asked.“A very humble one.But I hope to rise in the world.Were you really in earnest when you said that you could love a man of lowly position?”“Indeed I was.But I said 'might.' There is the Grand Duke and the Marquis, you know.Yes;nocalling could be too humble were the man what I would wish him to be.”“I work,” declared Mr.Parkenstacker, “in a restaurant.”The girl shrank slightly.“Not as a waiter?” she said, a little imploringly.“Labor is noble, but per sonal attendance, you know--valets and--”“I am not a waiter.I am cashier in”--on the street they faced that bounded the opposite side of the park was the brilliant electric sign “RESTAURANT”--“I am cashier in that restaurant you am there.”The girl consulted a tiny watch set in a bracelet of rich design upon her left wrist, and rose, hurriedly.She thrust her book into a glittering reticule suspended from her waist, for which, however, the book was too large.“Why are you not at work?” she asked.“I am on the night turn,” said the young man;it is yet an hour before my period begins.May I not hope to see you again?“”I do not know.Perhaps-but the whim may not seize me again.I must go quickly now.There is a dinner, and a box at the play--and, oh!The same old round.Perhaps you noticed an automobile at the upper corner of the park as you came.One with a white body“And red running gear?” asked the young man, knitting his brows reflectively.“Yes.I always come in that.Pierre waits for methere.He supposes me to be shopping in the department store across the square.Conceive of the bondage of the life wherein we must deceive even our chauffeurs.Good-night.”“But it is dark now,” said Mr.Parkenstacker, “and the park is full of rude men.May I not walk--”“If you have the slightest regard for my wishes,” said the girl, firmly, “you will remain at this bench for ten minutes after I have left.I do not mean to accuse you, but you are probably aware that autos generally bear the monogram of their owner.Again, good-night”Swift and stately she moved away through the dusk.The young man watched her graceful formas she reached the pavement at the park's edge, and turned up along it toward the corner where stood the automobile.Then he treacherously and unhesitatingly began to dodge and skim among the park trees and shrubbery in a course parallel to her route, keeping her well in sight.When she reached the corner she turned her head to glance at the motor car, and then passed it, con turning on across the street.Sheltered behind a convenient standing cab, the young man followed her movements closely with his eyes.Passing down the sidewalk of the street opposite the park, she entered the restaurant with the blazing sign.The place was one of those frankly glaring establishments, all white, paint and glass, where one may dine cheaply andconspicuously.The girl penetrated the restaurant to some retreat at its rear, whence she quickly emerged without her bat and veil.The cashier's desk was well to the front.A red-head girl an the stool climbed down, glancing pointedly at the clock as she did so.The girl in gray mounted in her place.The young man thrust his hands into his pockets and walked slowly back alongthe sidewalk.At the corner his foot struck a small, paper-covered volume lying there, sending it sliding to the edge of the turf.By its picturesque cover he recognized it as the book the girl had been reading.He picked it up carelessly, and saw that its title was “New Arabian Nights,” the author being of the name of Stevenson.He dropped it again upon the grass, and lounged, irresolute, for a minute.Then he stepped into the automobile, reclined upon the cushions, and said two words to the chauffeur: "Club, Henri.夜幕初降，这位身穿灰色衣服的女子又来到那宁静的小公园里的那个宁静的角落。
初二黑布林英语阅读《小妇人》
初二黑布林英语阅读《小妇人》摘要：I.初二黑布林英语阅读《小妇人》简介A.作品背景B.故事概述II.《小妇人》主要角色介绍A.乔B.艾米C.贝丝D.梅格E.劳里III.《小妇人》中的友情与家庭关系A.姐妹间的感情B.家庭亲情C.友情与互助IV.《小妇人》中的教育与成长A.家庭教育B.学校教育C.个人成长与追求V.《小妇人》的启示与价值观A.女性独立与自主B.家庭与友情的重要性C.勇敢面对人生挑战正文：初二黑布林英语阅读《小妇人》是一部由美国女作家露易丝·梅·奥尔科特创作的经典小说，讲述了一群年轻女孩在成长过程中所经历的种种挑战与成长。
故事主要围绕马奇家的四个姐妹展开，她们分别是乔、艾米、贝丝和梅格。
乔是一个性格独立、热爱写作的女孩，她的梦想是成为一名作家。
艾米则是一个热爱艺术、追求高尚生活的女孩，她对自己的未来有着很高的期望。
贝丝是一个善良、温柔的女孩，她乐于助人，总是为他人着想。
而梅格则是一个充满爱心、乐于奉献的女孩，她照顾家人，承担起家庭的重担。
在这部作品中，作者描绘了姐妹间深厚的感情，她们在共同度过生活中的困难时，相互支持、相互鼓励。
同时，作品中也展示了家庭亲情的重要性，父母对孩子们的关爱以及孩子们对父母的敬爱。
在友情方面，劳里的出现为乔和艾米带来了更多的启示与帮助，他们的友情充满了理解与包容。
在教育与成长方面，《小妇人》中的角色经历了家庭教育与学校教育。
马奇家父母对孩子们的成长给予了很多关爱与指导，他们鼓励孩子们勇敢追求自己的梦想，努力实现自我价值。
在学校教育中，乔和艾米在老师的指导下，逐渐找到了自己的人生目标。
总的来说，《小妇人》为我们展示了一个关于成长、家庭、友情和教育的美好画卷。
通过这部作品，我们不仅可以感受到作者对女性独立与自主的强烈呼唤，还可以体会到家庭与友情的重要性。
中学经典短篇英文小说赏析《the cat and the fiddle》
The cat and the fiddleHey,diddle,diddle，The cat and the fiddle，The cow jumped over the moon！The little dog laughedTo see such sport，And the dish ran off with the spoon！Perhaps you think this verse is all nonsense,and that th e things it mentions could never have happened；but they di d happen,as you will understand when I have explained the m all to you clearly.Little Bobby was the only son of a small farmer who live d out of town upon a country road.Bobby's mother looked a fter the house and Bobby's father took care of the farm,a nd Bobby himself,who was not very big,helped them both a s much as he was able.It was lonely upon the farm,especially when his father an d mother were both busy at work,but the boy had one wa y to amuse himself that served to pass many an hour whe n he would not otherwise have known what to do.He was ver y fond of music,and his father one day brought him fro m the town a small fiddle,or violin,which he soon learne d to play upon.I don't suppose he was a very fine musicia n,but the tunes he played pleased himself；as well as hi s father and mother,and Bobby's fiddle soon became his con stant companion.One day in the warm summer the farmer and his wife determi ned to drive to the town to sell their butter and eggs and bring back some groceries in exchange for them,and while they were gone Bobby was to be left alone.“We shall not be back until late in the evening，”said hi s mother，“for the weather is too warm to drive very fas t.But I have left you a dish of bread and milk for you r supper,and you must be a good boy and amuse yourself wi th your fiddle until we return.”Bobby promised to be good and look after the house,and th en his father and mother climbed into the wagon and drov e away to the town.The boy was not entirely alone,for there was the big blac k tabby-cat lying upon the floor in the kitchen,and the l ittle yellow dog barking at the wagon as it drove away,an d the big moolie-cow lowing in the pasture down by the brook.Animals are often very good company,and Bobby did no t feel nearly as lonely as he would had there been no liv ing thing about the house.Besides he had some work to do in the garden,pulling u p the weeds that grew thick in the carrot-bed,and when th e last faint sounds of the wheels had died away he went i nto the garden and began his task.The little dog went too,for dogs love to be with peopl e and to watch what is going on；and he sat down near Bob by and cocked up his ears and wagged his tail and seemed to take a great interest in the weeding.Once in a while he would rush away to chase a butterfly or bark at a b eetle that crawled through the garden,but he always came b ack to the boy and kept near his side.By and by the ca t,which found it lonely in the big,empty kitchen,now th at Bobby's mother was gone,came walking into the garden al so,and lay down upon a path in the sunshine and lazily w atched the boy at his work.The dog and the cat were goo d friends,having lived together so long that they did no t care to fight each other.To be sure Towser,as the littl e dog was called,sometimes tried to tease pussy,being him self very mischievous；but when the cat put out her sharp c laws and showed her teeth,Towser,like a wise little do g,quickly ran away,and so they managed to get along i n a friendly manner.By the time the carrot-bed was well weeded,the sun was si nking behind the edge of the forest and the new moon risin g in the east,and now Bobby began to feel hungry and wen t into the house for his dish of bread and milk.“I think I‘ll take my supper down to the brook，”he sai d to himself，“and sit upon the grassy bank while I eat i t.And I‘ll take my fiddle,too,and play upon it to pas s the time until father and mother come home.”It was a good idea,for down by the brook it was cool an d pleasant；so Bobby took his fiddle under his arm and carr ied his dish of bread and milk down to the bank that slop ed to the edge of the brook.It was rather a steep ban k,but Bobby sat upon the edge,and placing his fiddle bes ide him,leaned against a tree and began to eat his supper. The little dog had followed at his heels,and the cat als o came slowly walking after him,and as Bobby ate,they sa t one on either side of him and looked earnestly into hi s face as if they too were hungry.So he threw some of t he bread to Towser,who grabbed it eagerly and swallowed it in the twinkling of an eye.And Bobby left some of the m ilk in the dish for the cat,also,and she came lazily u p and drank it in a dainty,sober fashion,and licked bot h the dish and spoon until no drop of the milk was left. Then Bobby picked up his fiddle and tuned it and began t o play some of the pretty tunes he knew.And while he pla yed he watched the moon rise higher and higher until it wa s refected in the smooth,still water of the brook.Indeed,Bo bby could not tell which was the plainest to see,the moo n in the sky or the moon in the water.The little dog la y quietly on one side of him,and the cat softly purred u pon the other,and even the moolie-cow was attracted by th e music and wandered near until she was browsing the gras s at the edge of the brook.After a time,when Bobby had played all the tunes he kne w,he laid the fiddle down beside him,near to where th e cat slept,and then he lay down upon the bank and bega n to think.It is very hard to think long upon a dreamy summer nigh t without falling asleep,and very soon Bobby's eyes close d and he forgot all about the dog and the cat and the co w and the fiddle,and dreamed he was Jack the Giant Kille r and was just about to slay the biggest giant in the wor ld.And while he dreamed,the cat sat up and yawned and stretc hed herself；and then began wagging her long tail from sid e to side and watching the moon that was refected in th e water.But the fiddle lay just behind her,and as she moved he r tail,she drew it between the strings of the fiddle,whe re it caught fast.Then she gave her tail a jerk and pull ed the fiddle against the tree,which made a loud noise.Thi s frightened the cat greatly,and not knowing what was th e matter with her tail,she started to run as fast as sh e could.But still the fiddle clung to her tail,and at eve ry step it bounded along and made such a noise that she s creamed with terror.And in her fright she ran straight towar ds the cow,which,seeing a black streak coming at her,an d hearing the racket made by the fiddle,became also fright ened and made such a jump to get out of the way that sh e jumped right across the brook,leaping over the very spo t where the moon shone in the water！Bobby had been awakened by the noise,and opened his eye s in time to see the cow jump；and at first it seemed to him that she had actually jumped over the moon in the s ky,instead of the one in the brook.The dog was delighte d at the sudden excitement caused by the cat,and ran bark ing and dancing along the bank,so that he presently knocke d against the dish,and behold！it slid down the bank,carr ying the spoon with it,and fell with a splash into the w ater of the brook.As soon as Bobby recovered from his surprise he ran afte r the cat,which had raced to the house,and soon came t o where the fiddle lay upon the ground,it having at las t dropped from the cat's tail.He examined it carefully,an d was glad to find it was not hurt,in spite of its roug h usage.And then he had to go across the brook and driv e the cow back over the little bridge,and also to roll u p his sleeve and reach into the water to recover the dis h and the spoon.Then he went back to the house and lighted a lamp,and sa t down to compose a new tune before his father and mothe r returned.The cat had recovered from her fright and lay quietly unde r the stove,and Towser sat upon the floor panting,with h is mouth wide open,and looking so comical that Bobby thoug ht he was actually laughing at the whole occurrence.And these were the words to the tune that Bobby composed t hat night：Hey,diddle,diddle，The cat and the fiddle，The cow jumped over the moon！The little dog laughedTo see such sport，And the dish ran off with the spoon！。
高二英语选修7课文原文（精选6篇）
高二英语选修7课文原文高二英语选修7课文原文（精选6篇）英语是按照分布面积而言最流行的语言，但母语者数量是世界第三，仅次于汉语、西班牙语。
它是学习最广泛的第二语言，是近60个主权国家的官方语言或官方语言之一。
英语是我们的三大主科目之一，非常的重要，下面是小编整理的高二英语选修7课文原文，希望对你有帮助。
高二英语选修7课文原文篇1MARTY’S STORYHi, my name is Marry Fielding and I guess you could say that I am "one in a million". In other words, there are not many people like me. You see, I have a muscle disease which makes me very weak, so I can't run or climb stairs as quickly as other people. In addition, sometimes I am very clumsy and drop things or bump into furniture. Unfortunately, the doctors don't know how to make me better, but I am very outgoing and have learned to adapt to my disability. My motto is: live One day at a time.Until I was ten years old I was the same as everyone else. I used to climb trees, swim and play football. In fact, I used to dream about playing professional football and possibly representing my country in the World Cup. Then I started to get weaker and weaker, until I could only enjoy football from a bench at the stadium. In the end I went into hospital for medical tests. I stayed there for nearly three months. I think I had at least a billion tests, including one in which they cut out a piece of muscle from my leg and looked at it under a microscope. Even after all that, no one could give my disease a name and it is difficult to know what the future holds.One problem is that I don't look any different from otherpeople. So sometimes some children in my primary school would laugh, when I got out of breath after running a short way or had to stop and rest halfway up the stairs. Sometimes, too, I was too weak to go to school so my education suffered. Every time I returned after an absence, I felt stupid because I was behind the others.My life is a lot easier at high school because my fellow students have accepted me. The few who cannot see the real person inside my body do not make me annoyed, and I just ignore them. All in all I have a good life. I am happy to have found many things I can do, like writing and computer programming. My ambition is to work for a firm that develops computer software when I grow up. Last year invented a computer football game and a big company has decided to buy it from me. I have a very busy life with no time to sit around feeling sorry for myself. As well as going to the movies and football matches with my friends, I spend a lot of time with my pets. I have two rabbits, a parrot, a tank full of fish and a tortoise. To look after my pets properly takes a lot of time but I find it worthwhile. I also have to do a lot of work, especially if I have been away for a while.In many ways my disability has helped me grow stronger psychologically and become more independent. I have to work hard to live a normal life but it has been worth it. If I had a chance to say one thing to healthy children, it would be this: having a disability does not mean your life is not satisfying. So don't feel sorry for the disabled or make fun of them, and don't ignore them either. Just accept them for who they are, and give them encouragement to live as rich and full a life as you do.Thank you for reading my story.马丁的故事嗨,我的名字是马丁。
每日英文阅读(二)
‘Women don’t need to bleed’: why many more of us are giving up on periods女性不需要流血：为什么越来越多的女性同胞对月经With recent confirmation that periods have no health benefit, an increasing number of women are using contraception to stop them altogether.Menstruation is the process by which the body sheds the lining of the uterus and unfertilised egg. Not having periods does not create a “backlog”, nor are they necessary to “cleanse the body”. Menstruation can, however, exacerbate incapacitating physical or mental health problems including endometriosis and depression. So, if women do not want a period, is there a medical reason that they should? Many may be surprised to learn that the short answer is: no.Dr Anne Connolly, the clinical lead for Women’s Hea lth for the Royal College of GPs, says there is no health benefit to them: “Ninety-nine per cent of women don’t need to bleed.”The option not to have periods is rooted in hormonal contraceptives, which prevent pregnancy, sometimes with other effects —including lightening bleeding or stopping it altogether. Many new forms of contraception — including the contraceptive implant and injection —are designed to be taken continuously, meaning many users can safely go months or years without any bleeding.The benefits can be myriad, from saving money to mitigating health problems.But some women may prefer not to use hormonal contraceptives. Some experts agree that more research is needed into the long-term effects of taking hormonal contraception. However, they say there should be greater awareness of the benefits of contraceptives beyond preventing pregnancy.Sophie, 24, from Glasgow, no longer bleeds thanks to the contraceptive implant, and says: “Just because something is natural, I don’t think it in any way m eans we should have to go through it. Different things suit different people, and that’s fantastic.”China misses out on FIBA World Cup second round after Venezuela defeat对战委内瑞拉失利，中国无缘国际篮球联赛（FIBA）篮球世界……Hosts China will not play in the round of 16 at the 2019 FIBA World Cup after losing 72-59 to Venezuela in its final Group A game here on Wednesday. The result saw Venezuela progress into the competition's next stage, while China will drop into the classification round."We made a lot of preparation. We played tight in offense at the very beginning. We let Venezuela grab 20 offensive rebounds, which is very hard for us, " said China's head coach Li Nan.Before tip-off, the Chinese team knew only victory would do, but still they trailed 33-23 at the half-time buzzer. The hosts saw a glimmer of hope when Zhao Jiwei made two consecutive three-pointers during the last minute before the interval, but Venezuela soon answered with a pair from downtown.Fang Shuo stood out in the second half for China, but not enough. With a three and a jump shot, he led his team to trim the gap to five points with six minutes to go in the third quarter, the smallest deficit China had during the whole game. China couldn't find ways to deal with its disadvantage in long-range shooting and rebounds, and the Venezuelan shooters seemed comparatively unstoppable. "They grabbed 21 more rebounds than us. We didn't do well on execution. It feels bad to lose the game. We'll try all our best and focus on the next game, " Chinese guard Fang said, referring to the classification round of 17-32 to be played in Guangzhou.Alibaba revenue jumps in first quarter阿里巴巴第一季度收益猛增Chinese e-commerce giant Alibaba said Thursday that first quarter revenue beat analyst estimates. Revenue for the April-June period rose 42 percent year-on-year to 114.9 billion yuan ($16.7 billion), a company statement said, outpacing an average analyst estimate of 111.6 billion yuan compiled by Bloomberg News.Joe Tsai, Alibaba's Executive Vice-Chairman, attributed the results to China's demographic trends and continued urbanization, pointing to the growing urban middle class willing to shell out for brands on Alibaba's e-commerce platforms.Net profit for the quarter was 21.2 billion ($3.1 billion), more than double from the same period a year earlier.Revenue in the Hangzhou-based company's core e-commerce segment, which accounts for the vast majority of its business, jumped 44 percent, while the smaller but fast-growing cloud computing unit surged 66 percent.Alibaba has been pouring money into what it calls "new retail", which optimises in-store sales and service using data culled online."Alibaba had a great quarter, expanding our user base to 674 million annual active consumers, demonstrating our superior user experience, " said Daniel Zhang, Chief Executive Officer of Alibaba. "We will continue to invest in technology and bring digital transformation to millions of businesses globally." Alibaba dominates China's rapidly expanding consumer culture and its corporate results are typically closely watched for any signs that the US-China trade tensions were turning off shoppers.What is a deepfake?什么是deepfake？Today, the events captured in realistic-looking or-sounding video and audio recordings need never have happened. They can instead be generated automatically, by powerful computers and machine-learning software. The catch-all term for these computational productions is “deepfakes”.The term first appeared on Reddit, a messaging board, as the username for an account which was producing fake videos. An entire community sprung up around the creation of these videos, writing software tools that let anyone a utomatically paste one person’s face onto the body of another. Reddit shut the community down, but the technology was out there. Soon it was being applied to political figures and actors.Tools for editing media manually have existed for decades—think Photoshop. The power and peril of deepfakes is that they make fakery cheaper than ever before. Before deepfakes, a powerful computer and a good chunk of a university degree were needed to produce a realistic fake video of someone. Now some photos and an Internet connection are all that is required. The consequences of cheap, widespread fakery are likely to be profound, albeit slow to unfold. Plenty worry about the possible impact that believable, fake footage of politicians might have on civil society—from a further loss of trust in media to the potential for electoral distortions. These technologies could also be deployed against softer targets: it might be used, for instance, to bully classmates by creating imagery of them in embarrassing situations. In a world that was already saturated with extreme imagery, deepfakes make it plausible to push that even further.Costco caps the number of China shoppers one day after ‘crazy’ debut开市客在中国“疯狂”开业后次日实施限制客流Costco Wholesale Corp.’s first outlet in Shanghai has capped the number of customers at 2, 000, a day after it opened and was overrun with customers willing to fight over discounted products and wait hours to pay for their purchases.It had to suspend operations on Tuesday citing “heavy traffic and customer flows, ” according to a text message to consumers shared on Weibo, China’s micro-blogging website.The frenzy at Costco’s store comes at a time when the U.S. and China are locked in a tit-for-tat tariff war that shows no signs of abating and is making American firms wary of investing in the largest Asian economy.Costco is also entering a market where many of its global rivals have struggled and given up. Carrefour SA sold an 80% stake in its China unit at a discount in June while German wholesaler Metro AG is looking to sell its operations.Local news reports said the retailer offered discounts as deep as 60% on some products and initial annual membership for just 199 yuan ($28).The sale includes the nation’s famous fiery liquor drink from Kweichow Moutai Co. and Wuliangye Yibin Co. Moutai’s coveted baijiu bottles, according to messages posted on a local investing website, are being lapped up as these are available in Costco at 1, 500 yuan and can be resold at marked-up prices of as much as 2, 500 yuan.“There’s no other word to describe Shanghai’s Costco but crazy, ” said a Weibo user, who gave up on the shopping plan Tuesday after seeing two-hour queues at the checkout counters.In “American Factory”, Chinese money and Ohioan workers collide纪录片《美国工厂》展示了中国资本和俄亥俄州工人间的冲突What makes a factory American? A captivating new documentary — produced by Barack and Michelle Obama —opens with an unambiguous case. In Dayton, Ohio, a large General Motors plant had employed 2, 000 workers assembling SUVs.It closed in 2008, leaving behind a shell of a building and a local unemployment rate that peaked in 2009 at 12.5%.The factory that opened in its place was supposed to be American too, despite its Chinese owner. The film follows Cao Dewang, chairman of Fuyao group, a Chinese glass manufacturer, as he prowls his new plant, and advises contractors against putting Chinese pictures on the walls.*** He brings in Americans to fill senior management positions.Tensions within the partnership quickly emerge. The Americans are accused of having fat fingers, of being slow and of being afraid of heat. The clashes might leave some viewers with the impression that the plant is not very American at all.Bu t when a group of workers from Ohio visit one of Fuyao’s outposts in China, “American Factory” draws a contrast. They look on in horror as Chinese workers sort large shards of glass without safety goggles or cut-resistant gloves. The Americans’ eight days off a month and eight-hour shifts are dismissed as an easy life.“American Factory” is available on Netflix from August 21st. Viewers can decide themselves whether they think the Fuyao factory in Ohio is truly American — or they can revel in the film’s com plexity and conclude that there is no right answer.Zhang wins China's first UFC title in stunning style张伟丽赢得中国首个UFC 冠军，成为全场亮点Zhang Weili thrilled a Chinese home crowd with an upset knockout of UFC strawweight champion Jessica Andrade that took just 41 seconds Saturday, making her China's first champion in the world's biggest mixed martial arts (MMA) promotion.The experienced Andrade, who came into the fight tied for the most wins by a woman in UFC history with 11, charged the underdog Zhang from the start. But the Brazilian ran into a barrage of punches and knee kicks from Zhang that sent her staggering to the canvas as the referee waved the fight over. "Last year in Beijing I vowed to become the first Chinese champion, and I did it!" Zhang, 30, declared afterwards at the UFC Fight Night event in a sports arena in the southern Chinese city of Shenzhen.Zhang was the first Chinese fighter to even get a title shot from the UFC, which is pushing hard into a Chinese market where interest in MMA is growing rapidly. "As a Chinese person, I feel so proud, " she said.South Korea's fertility rate falls to record low韩国生育率降至历史新低The total fertility rate measures the average number of children a woman will have in her lifetime. In 2018, this dropped to 0.98 in South Korea.This record low puts South Korea near the bottom of lowest fertility rates in the world. To put that into perspective, the 2018 fertility rate was 1.72 in the United States. In some African countries, which see the highest fertility numbers in the world, the rate can go up to 5 or 6.This isn't just a fluke for South Korea — its demographic crisis has been building for a while. The 2017 rate of 1.05 was also a record low at the time, while the mortality rate jumped to a record high.All the while, the population continues to age.Korea isn't alone in facing this problem —Japan, too, has struggled for years with an aging population, shrinking workforce, and low birth rates.There are similar reasons behind this decline in both countries. A major one is the demanding and often unhealthy work culture that makes it difficult for people to balance careers with family life.The Japanese government has launched various initiatives to try to reverse this trend. In 2017, the government announced a 2 trillion yen ($18 billion) spending package to expand free preschool and cut waiting times at day care centers. Meanwhile, the South Korean government lowered maximum working hours from 68 hours a week to 52 hours last year, with some experts pointing to the declining fertility rate and its economic consequences as a motivator.Blow to 10,000-hour rule as study finds practice doesn't always make perfect 对“一万小时定律”的反驳：研究发现，熟并不总能生巧……With blatant disregard for the public benefits of motivational idioms, researchers have concluded that practice does not, necessarily, make perfect.A study of violinists found that merely good players practised as much as, if not more than, better players, leaving other factors such as quality of tuition, learning skills and perhaps natural talent to account for the difference.The work is the latest blow to the 10, 000-hour rule, the idea promoted in Malcolm Gladwell's 2008 book, Outliers, which has been taken to mean that enough practice will make an expert of anyone. In the book, Gladwell states that "ten thousand hours is the magic number of greatness"."The idea has become really entrenched in our culture, but it's an oversimplification, " said Brooke Macnamara, a psychologist at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio.The seed for the 10, 000-hour rule was a 1993 study of violinists and pianists which found that accumulated practice time rose with musical prowess.Macnamara and her colleague Megha Maitra set out to repeat part of the 1993 study to see whether they reached the same conclusions. In all, the number of hours spent practising accounted for about a quarter of the skills difference, according to the study published in Royal Society Open Science.Macnamara believes practice is less of a driver. "Once you get to the highly skilled groups, practice stops accounting for the difference." she said.Macnamara said it was important for people to understand the limits of practice. "Practice makes you better than you were yesterday, most of the time, " she said. "But it might not make you better than your neighbour. Or the other kid in your violin class."Here’s the long and the short of it — mullets are back总而言之，前短后长的鲻鱼头回归了David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust wore his cascading down his neck. Patti Smith’s, meanwhile, was pure “business in the front, party in the back”.Mullets were everywhere in the 1970s and 80s, and now —perhaps to the surprise and consternation of many — they are back. The hairdo has been reinvented for the 21st century as a statement of gender fluidity and cool.Mullets have been big on catwalks and the red carpet for a while and the trend is now hitting the high street. Tina Outen, a stylist used by Vogue and i-D magazine, believes the cut can be cool and also political; a statement of androgyny. “There is a sense of freedom in the fashion industry and we are in an era of playfulness, ” she said. “People can be who they want to be.”Another explanation is that the mullet, mocked by many, is a protest against conventional beauty. According to Caryn Franklin, fashion commentator and professor at Kingston School of Art, the new-wave mullet is a backlash against the high-maintenance, long-haired looks that have dominated portrayals of femininity in mainstream advertising. “Hair styling has always allowed for non-conformist statements, ” she said.“You’ll see more of it, ” said Peckham-based hairdresser Jackson Acton. “Ten years ago, short on the sides and long on top was taboo. Now you see it on guys in suits and on Love Island. I think the mullet will be like that soon.”Germany seeks forgiveness from Poland 80 years after WWII start在二战爆发80年后，德国向波兰请求原谅Germany made an emotional appeal for forgiveness to neighboring Poland 80 years after the start of World War II that was met by a renewed demand for reparations by the fellow European Union member’s prime minister.German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier, visiting the town of Wielun, Poland, where Nazi bombers caused the first large-scale civilian casualties of the conflict in an air raid on Sept. 1, 1939, said his country won’t forget the past and takes responsibility for the war’s terror and atrocities.At a ceremony in Gdansk commemorating an attack on Poland from the Baltic Sea, Polish Premier Mateusz Morawiecki returned to the controversial topic of wartime reparations. He called on his nation’s western neighbor and biggest trading partner to take “responsibility” for the economic costs of its invasion and occupation.Earlier this year, a Polish special parliamentary group published a preliminary study that showed the six-year conflict may have cost the Polish economy more than $850 billion. The German government has said all claims were settled long ago. Calls for reparations from the 1939-1945 conflict, during which about 6 million Poles — half of them Jews — were killed, have soured ties between Warsaw and Berlin since 2017.“We have to remember the victims and we have to demand compensation, ” Morawiecki said.New York City mulls foie gras ban in move critics say is fuelled by 'anti-snob' sentiment纽约市考虑禁售肥肝，被批受“酸葡萄”心理煽动New York City is considering banning sales of foie gras, which has been dismissed by critics as an "anti-snob" move.The New York City Council is currently considering legislation that would ban sales of force-fed birds as well as all forms of the rich delicacy made from their engorged livers in the city's restaurants.Foie gras is often made by duck and geese having tubes inserted into their throats, forcing them to consume far more grain than they would naturally eat and fattening their livers by up to 10 times their normal size.One of the bill's advocates, the New York State Humane Association, said the life cycle of American foie gras ducks is "short and agonising in the final weeks". "By their last week, the birds have become so ill that their physical condition and degree of suffering arguably place them in violation of the state's anti-cruelty laws", the group said.However, the proposal has come in for criticism. Mark Caro, author of The Foie Gras Wars, questions why the rarefied dish receives so much attention in comparison to supermarkets' animal produce."If you try to get people to give up their cheap chicken, you would have a problem, because it would affect their budgets, " he told the New York Times. "Foie gras is enjoyed by... people most of this country resents. There’s a definite anti-snob thing going on, " he said of the move.The new growth in hair loss research 脱发研究的新进展Has there ever been more pressure to have a full and luscious head of hair? With such anxieties magnified by the digital world, it’s little wonder that the impact of male and female pattern baldness has been increasingly linked to various mental health conditions.But th ere is increasing hope for those experiencing hair loss, as while we’re no closer to finding a way to prevent balding happening in the first place, scientists are developing increasingly novel and ingenious ways to either replace or regenerate the lost hair.With no drug to prevent your hair from falling out, cosmetic surgery has looked to fill the void. Over the past two decades hair transplants — which take hair follicles from DHT-resistant “donor areas” at the back and sides of the scalp and relocate them to cover up bald patches — have offered new hope for hair loss sufferers.Instead of relying on donor hair, the way forward could be to use patient stem cells to grow whole hair follicles completely from scratch in the lab. These follicles could then be grown in unlimited quantities, and grafted on to the scalp.In the future, 3D printing could even help do this on a large scale. At Columbia University in New York, Angela Christiano is working on creating “hair farms” using a grid of 3D-printed plastic moulds which mimic the exact shape of hair follicles. Growing them in an artificial, hair-like environment helps stimulate them to make a hair, but scientists still have to solve some aesthetic challenges.Microplastics are everywhere, even in the Arctic snow微塑料无处不在，甚至出现在北极积雪当中Microplastics are some of the Earth's tiniest and most insidious enemies. These tiny bits of plastic are found in countless consumer products including cosmetics, tires, cigarettes and toothpaste, and when they collect in bodies of water and other natural areas, they can pose serious environmental hazards and health risks. In fact, a new study reveals that microplastics have even polluted Alpine snow and Arctic ice. How did the microplastics get there? The study, published this week in the journal Science Advances, posits that the tiny particles become airborne and, when swept up into the Earth's atmosphere, can be transported virtually around the globe."The large concentrations of MPs and microfibers in snow highlight the importance of the atmosphere as a source of airborne MPs and microfibers, " the study reads. "Through this pathway, MPs likely find their way into soil and aquatic environments and therefore also into food chains."In other words, if microplastics are found in pristine Arctic ice, they're probably being breathed in, lived in and eaten by animals in other ecosystems.If microplastics are being swirled around the atmosphere, the study says, we're breathing them in, as well. And that could have serious health consequences. "The high MP concentrations detected in snow samples from continental Europe to the Arctic indicate significant air pollution and stress the urgent need for research on human and animal health effects focusing on airborne MPs, " the study says.The unlikely Chinese cities where house prices rival London看似不可能、房价却堪比伦敦的中国城市Some of the world's priciest housing markets aren't where you might think. A four-year property boom in China has elevated a collection of little-known cities and turned them into real estate gold.While that's been great news for speculators, it's raising concern about whether China's educated middle-class is quickly being priced out of these so-called second-tier cities.A 1, 000-square-foot apartment in downtown Xiamen, a port city on China's southeast coast, is almost as expensive as the average home in London, even though local wages are a quarter of what's on offer in the U.K. capital.How these cities found themselves here is a confluence of urbanization and the promise of quick capital gains.Some 90 million people have relocated from rural areas since 2012, encouraged by better job prospects and policies aimed at giving migrant workers social welfare that's more akin to urban dwellers.Owning property (or multiple properties), meanwhile, is something of a national obsession in China after frenetic price gains in the early years of this decade made hundreds of thousands of people rich, at least on paper. That mentality has meant literally millions of apartments across the country sit empty as their owners wait for prices to appreciate."This housing surge can't be justified by economic growth or people's paychecks, " said Shen Xin, a property analyst at China Real Estate Information. "Many have bought homes earlier than they planned, just to catch the price rally."Bangalore, we have a problem班加罗尔，我们有麻烦了The world's second-largest nation held its breath. Scores of engineers at mission control in Bangalore had done all they could to get their country's second Moon mission into place above the lunar surface.*** The final part, the descent of the landing module onto the Moon itself, was self-guided — the craft had to find its own path down."Fifteen terrifying minutes" was how Kailasavavidoo Sivan, boss of the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO), had described this phase of the landing sequence. His fears were well-founded. About 30 minutes before the expected landing time at 1.54 am Indian time on September 7th, ISRO lost communication with the module.India had been aiming to become only the fourth member of the lunar club, after the Soviet Union, America and China. This mission, Chandrayaan-2, departed Earth on July 22nd from Satish Dhawan Space Centre in southern India, after several delays.What went wrong with the landing module is anybody's guess — such is the nature of a communications breakdown. All was well until the final 30km powered descent to the surface, Dr Sivan's hellish quarter hour. Several braking stages went off without a hitch, but then 1.24 am passed without further news.After half an hour of mounting tension, Dr Sivan appeared before the cameras to give a short statement. "Subsequently, communications from the lander to ground station was lost. The data is being analysed."The lander was named Vikram, Sa nskrit for ‘valour’, and Modi called for “courage” in his parting words to the ISRO scientists. But all the guts in India will not re-establish contact with a robot 239, 000 miles away, and get Chandrayaan-2 back on course. India’s Moon mission needs a miracle.When postpartum depression stole my husband当产后抑郁症“夺走”了我的丈夫Three months before Tyler was born, my husband Rob began suffering from insomnia, paralyzing indecision and panic attacks. Neither of us had any previous experience with mental illness, and I didn't understand what was happening.I dragged Rob to various doctors. Although Rob was eventually diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and severe depression, the psychiatrist never linked the illnesses to the changes associated with becoming a father.But when I finally confided in my friends about Rob's mental illness, I learned that he was not alone. Yet research has found that 1 in 7 dads in the United States suffer from mood disorders during the perinatal period (the time before and after birth), which skyrockets to 1 in 4 dads in the three to six months postpartum. Will Courtenay, a psychotherapist, said entrenched cultural norms that men should be "emotionally strong" explain why even trained mental health clinicians are less likely to diagnose anxiety or depression in men than in women.Daniel Singley, a psychologist, has studied what he calls the "dude to dad transition" for nearly a decade and says that connection is key for helping men navigate the transition to parenthood."Step one is having more conversations about the fact that it's not just women who experience perinatal mental health issues. Step two is providing men with a sense of community so they don't feel isolated, " Singley said.Is the best way to find love ... not on an app?找到真爱的最佳途径......难道不是在约会软件上吗？Here’s at least one sign that some young adults are disaffected with dating apps. On a sweltering Saturday evening not long ago, 250 men and women in their 20s and 30s packed into a Williamsburg bar without air conditioning to match-make via PowerPoint. Over two hours, a dozen presenters clicked through slides extolling the virtues, idiosyncrasies and dating criteria of their best friends. The event, called DateMyFriend.ppt, was sort of like Tinder meets “The Office.”Friends have long been each other’s “wing” people, facilitating conversations with strangers at bars or, more recently, delivering judgment on Bumble and Tinder matches. But dating apps have left many people feeling isolated or frustrated and hungering for more real-life interaction. There’s now a dating app designed to combat the loneliness of dating apps, called Ship, that enlists friends in the matchmaking process. Ship was created collaboratively by Betches Media, a lifestyle company for millennial women, and Match Group, which owns Tinder and OkCupid. Users invite a “crew” of friends to sign up with them, swipe for them, and participate in group chats on the platform.60% of matches on the app come from people who are swiping on behalf of their single friends. About 20% of people on the app are currently in committed relationships, according to the company: They are there solely to provide support and feedback.“For the last five to seven years, dating apps haven’t reflected the way that young people actually engage with each other, how they meet, date, talk, gossip about dating life, ” said Mandy Ginsberg, Match’s CEO. Young women were “walking around, taking screenshots and sending them to friends. It was an obvious miss.”。
中学必读经典英文短篇小说《Beneath an umbrella》赏析
BENEATH AN UMBRELLABy Nathaniel Hawthorne Pleasant is a rainy winter's day,within doors!The best study for such a da y,or the best amusement,-call it which you will,-is a book of travels,describi ng scenes the most unlike that sombre one,which is mistily presented throu gh the windows.I have experienced,that fancy is then most successful in im parting distinct shapes and vivid colors to the objects which the author has s pread upon his page,and that his words become magic spells to summon up a thousand varied pictures.Strange landscapes glimmer through the familiar walls of the room,and outlandish figures thrust themselves almost within the sacred precincts of the hearth.Small as my chamber is,it has space enough to contain the ocean-like circumference of an Arabian desert,its parched sa nds tracked by the long line of a caravan,with the camels patiently journeyi ng through the heavy sunshine.Though my ceiling be not lofty,yet I can pil e up the mountains of Central Asia beneath it,till their summits shine far ab ove the clouds of the middle atmosphere.And,with my humble means,a w ealth that is not taxable,I can transport hither the magnificent merchandise of an Oriental bazaar,and call a crowd of purchasers from distant countries, to pay a fair profit for the precious articles which are displayed on all sides. True it is,however,that amid the bustle of traffic,or whatever else may see m to be going on around me,the rain-drops will occasionally be heard to pa tter against my window-panes,which look forth upon one of the quietest str eets in a New England town.After a time,too,the visions vanish,and will n ot appear again at my bidding.Then,it being nightfall,a gloomy sense of un reality depresses my spirits,and impels me to venture out,before the clock shall strike bedtime,to satisfy myself that the world is not entirely made up of such shadowy materials,as have busied me throughout the day.A dreame r may dwell so long among fantasies,that the things without him will seem as unreal as those within.When eve has fairly set in,therefore,I sally forth,tightly buttoning my sha ggy overcoat,and hoisting my umbrella,the silken dome of which immediatel y resounds with the heavy drumming of the invisible rain-drops.Pausing on t he lowest doorstep,I contrast the warmth and cheerfulness of my deserted fi reside with the drear obscurity and chill discomfort into which I am about to plunge.Now come fearful auguries,innumerable as the drops of rain.Did n ot my manhood cry shame upon me,I should turn back within doors,resum e my elbow-chair,my slippers,and my book,pass such an evening of sluggis h enjoyment as the day has been,and go to bed inglorious.The same shiver ing reluctance,no doubt,has quelled,for a moment,the adventurous spirit o f many a traveller,when his feet,which were destined to measure the earth around,were leaving their last tracks in the home-paths.In my own case,poor human nature may be allowed a few misgivings.I l ook upward,and discern no sky,not even an unfathomable void,but only a black,impenetrable nothingness,as though heaven and all its lights were blot ted from the system of the universe.It is as if nature were dead,and the w orld had put on black,and the clouds were weeping for her.With their tears upon my cheek,I turn my eyes earthward,but find little consolation here b elow.A lamp is burning dimly at the distant corner,and throws just enough of light along the street,to show,and exaggerate by so faintly showing,the perils and difficulties which beset my path.Yonder dingily white remnant of a huge snow-bank,-which will yet cumber the sidewalk till the latter days of March,-over or through that wintry waste I must stride onward.Beyond,lies a certain Slough of Despond,a concoction of mud and liquid filth,ankle-deep, leg-deep,neck-deep,-in a word,of unknown bottom,on which the lamplight does not even glimmer,but which I have occasionally watched,in the gradu al growth of its horrors,from morn till nightfall.Should I flounder into its de pths,farewell to upper earth!And hark!how roughly resounds the roaring of a stream,the turbulent career of which is partially reddened by the gleamof the lamp,but elsewhere brawls noisily through the densest gloom.O,sho uld I be swept away in fording that impetuous and unclean torrent,the coro ner will have a job with an unfortunate gentleman,who would fain end his t roubles anywhere but in a mud-puddle!Pshaw!I will linger not another instant at arm's length from these dim ter rors,which grow more obscurely formidable,the longer I delay to grapple wit h them.Now for the onset!And to!with little damage,save a dash of rain in the face and breast,a splash of mud high up the pantaloons,and the left boot full of ice-cold water,behold me at the corner of the street.The lamp throws down a circle of red light around me;and twinkling onward from co rner to corner,I discern other beacons marshalling my way to a brighter sce ne.But this is alone some and dreary spot.The tall edifices bid gloomy defi ance to the storm,with their blinds all closed,even as a man winks when h e faces a spattering gust.How loudly tinkles the collected rain down the tin spouts!The puffs of wind are boisterous,and seem to assail me from variou s quarters at once.I have often observed that this corner is a haunt and loit ering-place for those winds which have no work to do upon the deep,dashi ng ships against our iron-bound shores;nor in the forest,tearing up the sylv an giants with half a rood of soil at their vast roots.Here they amuse thems elves with lesser freaks of mischief.See,at this moment,how they assail yon der poor woman,who is passing just within the verge of the lamplight!One blast struggles for her umbrella,and turns it wrong side outward;another w hisks the cape of her cloak across her eyes;while a third takes most unwarr antable liberties with the lower part of her attire.Happily,the good dame is no gossamer,but a figure of rotundity and fleshly substance;else would the se aerial tormentors whirl her aloft,like a witch upon a broomstick,and set her down,doubtless,in the filthiest kennel hereabout.From hence I tread upon firm pavements into the centre of the town.Her e there is almost as brilliant an illumination as when some great victory has been won,either on the battle-field or at the polls.Two rows of shops,withwindows down nearly to the ground,cast a glow from side to side,while t he black night hangs overhead like a canopy,and thus keeps the splendor fr om diffusing itself away.The wet sidewalks gleam with a broad sheet of red light.The rain-drops glitter,as if the sky were pouring down rubies.The spou ts gush with fire.Methinks the scene is an emblem of the deceptive glare, which mortals throw around their footsteps in the moral world,thus bedazzli ng themselves,till they forget the impenetrable obscurity that hems them in, and that can be dispelled only by radiance from above.And after all,it is a cheerless scene,and cheerless are the wanderers in it.Here comes one wh o has so long been familiar with tempestuous weather that he takes the blus ter of the storm for a friendly greeting,as if it should say,"How fare ye,br other?"He is a retired sea-captain,wrapped in some nameless garment of th e pea-jacket order,and is now laying his course towards the Marine Insuranc e Office,there to spin yarns of gale and shipwreck,with a crew of old sead ogs like himself.The blast will put in its word among their hoarse voices,an d be understood by all of them.Next I meet an unhappy slipshod gentleman, with a cloak flung hastily over his shoulders,running a race with boisterous winds,and striving to glide between the drops of rain.Some domestic emer gency or other has blown this miserable man from his warm fireside in ques t of a doctor!See that little vagabond,-how carelessly he has taken his stand right underneath a spout,while staring at some object of curiosity in a sho p-window!Surely the rain is his native element;he must have fallen with it from the clouds,as frogs are supposed to do.Here is a picture,and a pretty one.A young man and a girl,both envelop ed in cloaks,and huddled underneath the scanty protection of a cotton umbr ella.She wears rubber overshoes;but he is in his dancing-pumps;and they a re on their way,no doubt,to sonic cotillon-party,or subscription-ball at a do llar a head,refreshments included.Thus they struggle against the gloomy tem pest,lured onward by a vision of festal splendor.But,ah!a most lamentable disaster.Bewildered by the red,blue,and yellow meteors,in an apothecary's window,they have stepped upon a slippery remnant of ice,and are precipi tated into a confluence of swollen floods,at the corner of two streets.Luckl ess lovers!Were it my nature to be other than a looker-on in life,I would a ttempt your rescue.Since that may not be,I vow,should you be drowned,t o weave such a pathetic story of your fate,as shall call forth tears to drown you both anew.Do ye touch bottom,my young friends?Yes;they emerge li ke a water-nymph and a river deity,and paddle hand in hand out of the de pths of the dark pool.They hurry homeward,dripping,disconsolate,abashed, but with love too warm to be chilled by the cold water.They have stood a test which proves too strong for many.Faithful,though over head and ears in trouble!Onward I go,deriving a sympathetic joy or sorrow from the varied aspect of mortal affairs,even as my figure catches a gleam from the lighted window s,or is blackened by an interval of darkness.Not that mine is altogether a c hameleon spirit,with no hue of its own.Now I pass into a more retired stre et,where the dwellings of wealth and poverty are intermingled,presenting a range of strongly contrasted pictures.Here,too,may be found the golden m ean.Through yonder casement I discern a family circle,-the grandmother,the parents,and the children,-all flickering,shadow-like,in the glow of a wood-fir e.Bluster,fierce blast,and beat,thou wintry rain,against the window-panes! Ye cannot damp the enjoyment of that fireside.Surely my fate is hard,that I should be wandering homeless here,taking to my bosom night,and storm, and solitude,instead of wife and children.Peace,murmurer!Doubt not that darker guests are sitting round the hearth,though the warm blaze hides all but blissful images.Well;here is still a brighter scene.A stately mansion,illu minated for a ball,with cut-glass chandeliers and alabaster lamps in every ro om,and sunny landscapes hanging round the walls.See!a coach has stopped, whence emerges a slender beauty,who,canopied by two umbrellas,glides within the portal,and vanishes amid lightsome thrills of music.Will she ever feel the night-wind and the rain?Perhaps,-perhaps!And will Death and Sorrow ever enter that proud mansion?As surely as the dancers will be gay wit hin its halls to-night.Such thoughts sadden,yet satisfy my heart;for they te ach me that the poor man,in his mean,weather-beaten hovel,without a fir e to cheer him,may call the rich his brother,brethren by Sorrow,who must be an inmate of both their households,-brethren by Death,who will lead th em,both to other homes.Onward,still onward,I plunge into the night.Now have I reached the utm ost limits of the town,where the last lamp struggles feebly with the darknes s,like the farthest star that stands sentinel on the borders of uncreated spac e.It is strange what sensations of sublimity may spring from a very humble source.Such are suggested by this hollow roar of a subterranean cataract,w here the mighty stream of a kennel precipitates itself beneath an iron grate, and is seen no more on earth.Listen awhile to its voice of mystery;and fan cy will magnify it,till you start and smile at the illusion.And now another s ound,-the rumbling of wheels,-as the mail-coach,outward bound,rolls heavily off the pavements,and splashes through the mud and water of the road.Al l night long,the poor passengers will be tossed to and fro between drowsy watch and troubled sleep,and will dream of their own quiet beds,and awak e to find themselves still jolting onward.Happier my lot,who will straightway hie me to my familiar room,and toast myself comfortably before the fire, musing,and fitfully dozing,and fancying a strangeness in such sights as all m ay see.But first let me gaze at this solitary figure,who comes hitherward wi th a tin lantern,which throws the circular pattern of its punched holes on t he ground about him.He passes fearlessly into the unknown gloom,whither I will not follow him.This figure shall supply me with a moral,wherewith,for lack of a more ap propriate one,I may wind up my sketch.He fears not to tread the dreary p ath before him,because his lantern,which was kindled at the fireside of his home,will light him back to that same fireside again.And thus we,night-wa nderers through a stormy and dismal world,if we bear the lamp of Faith,enkindled at a celestial fire,it will surely lead us home to that Heaven whence its radiance was borrowed.。
2024年中考英语热点阅读练习专题5 外国文学作品(含解析)
2024年中考英语新热点时文阅读-外国文学作品01（2023·江苏淮安·校考一模）Huck is my name, Huckleberry Finn. The story started when my best friend, Tom Sawyer and I found $12,000 in a cave. That money made us rich. We got $6,000 each. Judge Thatcher, an important man in St. Petersburg, put it in the bank, and now we get a dollar a day interest (利息).Then a kind old lady called Douglas invited me to live with her because I haven’t got a family or a home. My mother died a long time ago, then my dad, Pap, disappeared. He was a violent (暴力的) man especially when he drank a lot, which was most of the time, and he often beat me. I was scared of him. I didn’t go to school like the other boys of my age. I lived on the streets and in the woods.My life changed after I lived with Douglas. She gave me a bed to sleep in and bought new clothes for me. She read stories to me and taught me how to eat at a table. But then her sister Miss Watson arrived. She brought her black slave (奴隶) Jim with her. I liked Jim but I didn’t like Miss Watson very much. She often shouted at me.Douglas sent me to school every day. I didn’t like going there at first because learning was very difficult. But when I could read and write a bit, I didn’t mind going.The months passed and winter came. The weather got cold. One morning I woke up and there was snow on the ground. On my way to school I saw some footprints outside Douglas’s house. There was a cross on the heel (脚后跟)of the left one. My heart jumped. Only one person wore boots with a cross on the left heel! Pap!“He’s heard about my ________” I thought. “And he wants it!”That night I went to see Jim. Jim had a magic ball made of animal hair. There was a spirit inside the ball that could answer people’s questions about the future.—Adapted from Adventures of Huckleberry Finn1．How did Huck get the money which was put in the bank?A．Huck’s father gave it to him.B．Huck’s mother left it to him before she died.C．Douglas gave it to him.D．He and Tom Sawyer found it in a cave.2．How did Huck feel about the life with Douglas?A．He hated his new life.B．He didn’t mind his new life.C．He felt satisfied with his new life.D．He wanted to get away from his new life.3．Which word can be put in the “__________”?A．life B．spirit C．secret D．money4．Which is the right order of what happened in the story?①Douglas sent Huck to school.②Huck’s mother died.③Douglas invited Huck to live with her.④Douglas read stories to Huck.A．③②④①B．②③④①C．③④②①D．②④③①02（2023·江苏镇江·统考中考真题）Katie was waiting for Gulliver’s calls. Instead, she just heard sparrows making noise in the bushes. “Maybe Gulliver missed the harbour.” Dad said. After breakfast, Katie took her camera to the harbour. All the colourful boats made pretty pictures, but not the one she wanted most.Katie waved to Ernest, her uncle’s neighbour, on the boathouse. The gull’s name, Gulliver, was given by him.The gull’s size and his single leg made the bird itself different. But Ernest told Katie what Gulliver did that first summer Katie and her dad came caught everyone’s attention. Young Katie lay in her stroller (婴儿车) on the floating dock (码头) when Uncle Ralph and Dad were repairing boats nearby. The waves from the passing boat made Katie’s stroller shake strongly. “Kee-aah! Kee-aah!” Gulliver made the loudest cry. Dad and uncle rushed to Katie and stopped the stroller from falling into the water. They kept a close eye at Katie after that. Another summer Katie was three years old, she liked to touch everything. But Dad didn’t watch her every minute when she tried to catch small ducks around or fish from water. “Kee-aah! Kee-aah!” The gull’s cry brought Dad back in time. He stopped Katie as she tried to follow the small ducks running towards water. Several summers passed, and Gulliver continued to call out as Katie tried new things.This summer Katie did the usual by-the-sea things she’d learned to do. One day, she rowed a boat out but was trapped on a rock by a storm. As she looked up and tried to catch the last warmth of the sunshine through dark clouds, she saw a single white feather. A gull feather? She searched the sky for an answer. Putting her arms around knees, she closed eyes to hold in the tears (眼泪). “Kee-aah! Kee-aah!” Katie sat up. “Katie! Katie!” Soon, Dad and Uncle Ralph appeared. “How lucky! We heard Gulliver as we came around the rocks,” Uncle Ralph said, “At least… it sounded like him. Strange, he was nowhere in sight.” Katie remembered the feather. “I thought I heard him, too.”—Adapted from the story by Gillian Richardson5．Katie took a camera to the harbour in order to take a picture of ________.A．Gulliver B．Ernest C．sparrows D．boats6．What’s the right order of the following events about Katie?①She was trapped on a rock by a storm.②She lay in her stroller on the floating dock.③She followed the small ducks running towards water.A．①②③B．①③②C．②③①D．②①③7．Which of the following can show the change of Katie’s feelings in Paragraph 3?A．sad—peaceful—excited B．sad—excited—nervousC．helpless—hopeful—thankful D．helpless—thankful—nervous8．What’s the best title for the story?A．Katie and Gulliver B．Katie’s HolidaysC．Katie and Dad D．Katie’s Tears03（2023·江苏宿迁·校联考一模）Marie didn’t like Eva’s friendship with Tom, so she told her husband that she didn’t want any smell of horses in the house. St Clare told Tom to stop working with the horses. Eva told her father she liked going for walks with Tom. So Tom had orders to leave what he was doing when Eva needed him. Eva and Tom spent a lot of time together.Tom noticed that St Clare didn’t look after his money and his house very well, and that he spent too much money on the wrong things. He started making some suggestions, and soon St Clare understood that Tom’s business advice was very good. After some time Tom started to look after the house expenses（费用）.Tom also noticed that his master didn’t take anything seriously and didn’t live well, and this worried him. One night St Clare went to a party where he drank too much. He came home very late, and Tom and another slave（奴隶）had to help him to get into bed. Tom went into his room and prayed（祈祷）for his master.The morning after, St Clare gave Tom some money to do some business for him. Tom took the money but he didn’t move.“Well, Tom, what are you waiting for?” said St Clare. “Is everything alright?”“I’m afraid not, Master,” said Tom.“What’s the problem? You look very serious.”“I feel very bad, Master. I thought that Master was always going to be good to everybody.”“Well, Tom, am I not? Do you need anything?”“No, Master is always good to me. But there is someone that Master isn’t good to.”“What do you mean?”“I thought about it last night. Master isn’t good to himself.”St Clare felt his face become red, then he laughed. “Oh, Tom!” said St Clare, with tears in his eyes. “Well, you’re right. Never again, Tom, I promise.”—Adapted from Uncle Tom’s Cabin9．Tom was asked to, leave what he was doing to ________A．work with horses B．go for walks with EvaC．spend some time with St Clare D．look after money for St Clare10．In Paragraph 3, the thing that worried Tom is ________.A．St Clare asked Tom to look after his moneyB．St Clare drank too much every dayC．St Clare didn’t look after himself well and didn’t live wellD．St Clare didn’t look after Tom well11．The underlined word “himself ” in Paragraph 12 is ________.A．Maria B．St Clare C．Eva D．Tom12．According to the passage, the correct order of the story is ________.a. Maria was unhappy with Eva’s friendship with Tom.b. St Clare felt moved and joyful when he laughed.c. St Clare gave Tom some money to do some business for him.d. Tom’s master spent too much money on the wrong things.A．adcb B．abcd C．badc D．dabc13．From the passage, we know that Tom was a ________ person.A．lazy but smart B．kind but stupid C．caring and brave D．lazy and stupid04（2023·湖南长沙·统考二模）The Adventures of Huckleberry Fine by Mark Twain is one of the first Great American Novels. It was also one of the first major American novels ever written by using Local Colorism（地方色彩主义）. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is famous for its colorful description of people and places along the Mississippi River.This book is about how a boy called Huck set the slave（奴隶）free and realized his dream of living an adventures life. In order to get out of his father’s control. Hook pretended that he was dead by Jim, who is practical and loyal to friends. Jim went together with Huck in the journey, and they became friends after experience. scenes of adventures. In their voyage, they met two frauds（骗子）. One called himself king, the other duke. Because of the king, Jim got caught by his master. By an expected chance, Huck and Tom, best friend of Hack. Got together, and they decided to set Jim free. At last, they made it.Although the book has been popular with young readers since it came out, the book immediately became controversial（有争论的）and has remained so today because the Southern society that it satirized（讽刺）had already been history.14．Where did the story happen in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? ________A．Along the Mississippi River.B．In the southern states.C．In Canada.15．What is the plot（情节）of the story? ________①Huck met a run-away slave. Jim.②Huck met two frauds.③Huck pretended to be dead.④Jim was caught by his master and then set free.A．①②③④B．③①②④C．③②①④16．What does the underlined word “pretended” mean in Paragraph 2 ________.A．否定B．承认C．假装17．We can read the following in the passage EXCEPT ________.A．history of Local ColorismB．Huck’s life experienceC．popularity of the book18．What can we learn from the passage? ________A．It’s Buck’s dream to live a peaceful life.B．The book has gained a lot of attention.C．Huck succeeded in setting Jim free on his own.05（2023·吉林长春·统考一模）They left the busy streets and went to a part of the town Scrooge never visited. It was a terrible place. The streets were dirty, and the smell was very bad. The houses and shops were of the poorest kind. The people were all thin, dirty, and they looked very ill. Everything was ugly.They came to where an old man sat. He was selling dirty pieces of cloth, smelly old bones, and all kinds of old and useless things. As they watched, two old women and an old man, equally dirty, smelly, and ugly came into the shop. They carried large bags.“Come and sit by the fire,” the shopkeeper said. “Tell me what you have to sell me.”“Nothing a dead man will miss,” the first woman said with a nasty（让人讨厌的）laugh.“If he wanted to keep them after he was dead, why wasn’t he a good man when he was alive? If he had been, he would have had someone to look after him. He would not have died alone.”“That’s very true,” said the second woman, putting a few clothes on the floor. “He got the death he deserved.” She pointed at the clothes. “What will you give me for those, Joe?” She asked the shopkeeper, adding, “I did nowrong taking them from the dead man’s house.”The shopkeeper looked at everything the woman wanted to sell him and put a price on it. Then he added everything up. The final amount was very small.“That’s not much,” the woman said.“Take it or leave it,” the shopkeeper said. “I won’t pay a penny（便士）more.”—Taken from A Christmas Carol根据短文内容，选择最佳答案。
中学必读经典英文短篇小说《ABUSHDANCE》
中学必读经典英文短篇小说《ABUSHDANCE》A BUSH DANCEBy Henry Lawson “tap, tap, tap，”The little schoolhouse and residence in the scrub was lighted brightly in the mids t of the“close”,solid blackness of that moonless December night, when the sky a nd stars were smothered and suffocated by drought haze.It was the evening of the school children’s “Feast”. That is to say that the childre n had been sent, and“let go”，and the younger ones“fetched”through the blazin g heat to the school, one day early in the holidays, and raced—sometimes in co uples tied together by the legs—and caked, and bunned, and fnally improved u pon by the local Chadband, and got rid of.The schoolroom had been cleared fo r dancing, the maps rolled and tied, the desks and blackboards stacked against t he wall outside.T ea was over, and the trestles and boards, whereon had been spr ead better things than had been provided for the unfortunate youngsterhad bee n taken outside to keep the desks and blackboards company.On stools running end to end along one side of the room sat about twenty mor e or less blooming country girls of from ffteen to twenty odd.On the rest of the stools, running end to end along the other wall, sat about twe nty more or less blooming chaps.It was evident that something was seriously wrong. None of the girls spoke abov e a hushed whisper.None of the men spoke above a hushed oath.Now and again two or three sidled out, and if you had followed them you would have found t hat they went outside to listen hard into thedarkness and to swear.“tap, tap, tap.”The rows moved uneasily, and some of the girls turned pale faces nervously tow ards the side-door, in the direction of the sound.“tap—tap.”The tapping came from the kitchen at the rear of the teacher’s residence, and w as uncomfortably suggestive of a coffin being made：it was also accompanied b y a sickly, indescribable odour—more like that of warm cheap glue than anythin g else.In the schoolroom was a painful scene of strained listening. Whenever one of th e men returned from outside, or put his head in at the door, all eyes were fasten ed on him in the fash of a single eye, and then withdrawn hopelessly.At the soun d of a horse’s step all eyes and ears were on th e door, till some one muttered，‘It’s only the horses in the paddock.’Some of the girls’eyes began to glisten suspiciously, and at last the belle of th e party—a great, dark-haired, pink-and-white Blue Mountain girl, who had bee n sitting for a full minute staring before her, with blue eyes unnaturally bright, su ddenly covered her face with her hands, rose, and started blindly from the roo m, from which she was steered in a hurry by two sympathetic and rather‘upset’gi rl friends, and as she passed out she was heard sobbing hysterically—“Oh, I can’t help it！I did want to dance！It’s a sh-shame！I can’t help it！I—I want to dance！I rode twenty miles to dance—and—and I want to dance！”A tall, strapping young Bushman rose, without disguise, andfollowed the girl ou t. The rest began to talk loudly of stock, dogs, and horses, and other Bush thing s；but above their voices rang out that of the girl from the outside—being ma n comforted—“I can’t help it, Jack！I did want to dance！I—I had such—such—a job—to get mother—and—and father to let me come—and—and now！”The two girl friends came back. “He sez to leave her to him，”they whispered, i n reply to an interrogatory glance from the schoolmistress.“It’s—it’s no use, Jack！”came the voice of grief.“You don’t know w hat—what fat her and mother—is. I—I won’t—be able—to ge-get away—again—for—for—n ot till I’m married, perhaps.”The schoolmistress glanced uneasily along the row of girls.“I’ll take her into my room and make her lie down，”shewhispered to h er sister, who w as staying with her.“she’ll start some of the other girls presently —it’s just the weather for it，”and she passed out quietly. That schoolmistress w as a woman of penetration.A final “tap-tap”from the kitchen；then a sound like the squawk of a hurt or fri ghtened child, and the faces in the room turned quickly in that direction and bri ghtened. But there came a bang and a sound like“damn！”and hopelessness set tled down.A shout from the outer darkness, and most of the men and some of the girls ros e and hurried out. Fragments of conversation heard in the darkness—“It’s two horses, I tell you！”“It’s three, you—！”“Lay you—！”“Put the stuff up！”A clack of gate thrown open. “Who is it, Tom?”Voices from gatewards, yelling，“Johnny Mears！They’ve got Johnny Mears！”Then rose yells, and a cheer such as is seldom heard in scrub-lands.Out in the kitchen long Dave Regan grabbed, from the far side of the table, whe re he had thrown it, a burst and battered concertina, which he had been for the l ast hour vainly trying to patch and make air-tight；and, holding it out towards t he back-door, between his palms, as a football is held, he let it drop, and fetche d it neatly on the toe of his riding-boot. It was a beautiful kick, the concertina sh ot out into the blackness, from which was projected, in return, frst a short, sudde n howl, then a face with one eye glaring and the other covered by an enormou s brick-coloured hand, and a voice that wanted to know who shot‘that lurid loa f of bread?’But from the schoolroom was heard the loud, free voice of Joe Matthews, M. C.，“take yer partners！Hurry up！Take yer partners！They’ve got Johnn y Mears with his fddle！”。
高中语文课后必读之经典小小说 肯肯舞〔美国〕阿图洛·维万特素材
肯肯舞〔美国〕阿图洛。
维万特“我开车出去兜兜风，”他对他妻子说：“一、两个钟头左右回来。
”除了花几分钟去邮局或小铺子，他不常出门，总是呆在家里，作些杂事——他妻子叫他作修理先生——此外，虽然很少作，偶尔他也漆房子，他靠这个赚钱。
“好呵。
”他妻子很快意地说，好像他倒帮了她个忙。
其实，她并不真愿意他离开；有他在家她感到安全，而且也能帮她照顾孩子们，特别是那个小的。
“把我赶开你挺高兴的，是吧？”他说。
“是呵。
”她说着笑了一下，这突然使她看起来很美——一个令人想念的人。
她没有问他开车去哪儿兜兜风。
她绝不是个多问的女人，虽然她会默默地、不露声色地吃醋。
他穿上外衣时，眼睛看着她。
她跟他们的大女儿在客厅里。
“跳个肯肯舞嘛，妈妈。
”孩子说，她就掀起了裙子跳起了肯肯，朝着他把大腿踢得高高地。
他并不是像他所说的开车去兜风，他是去一家小餐馆跟莎拉约会，他妻子认识莎拉却没怀疑过，他要跟莎拉去湖边一所他妻子全无所知的房子，一间避暑的木屋，他有那儿的钥匙。
“好。
再见了。
”他说。
“拜。
”她冲他喊了一声，还在跳舞呢。
他把她丢在家里去跟另一个女人幽会，她却是这样的表现，他想，作丈夫的怎么说也不会认为妻子应该是如此的。
他认为她该在家缝、洗衣服，而不是跳肯肯的，真是天晓得。
是的，该作些没意思又不可人的事，譬如补补孩子们的衣服。
她没穿丝袜，没有，也没穿鞋，她的腿看起来很白也很滑润，很神秘的，就好像是他从也没摸过或是接近过。
她的脚，在空中上下摆动，好像在向他点头。
她把裙子高高地摺成一圈，挺撩人的。
她干嘛非在现在这个时候这么做？他多呆了会儿。
她的眼神透着嘲弄，她还在放声地笑。
孩子看着她跳，也跟着她笑。
他走出家门的时候，她还在跳。
他想到为了安排这种幽会得经过的一切困难——出去打公用电话；打电话到莎拉的办公室（她也是结了婚的）；她不在；他得再打给她；电话在哗哗地忙着；硬币掉入收币缝里；推开硬币掉下的小门想把钱取回来；终于接通了她；她叫他下星期再打来，最后总算定了个幽会的日子。
【英文经典短篇】Baggio
Iain GrantIt was when Squirrel Nutkin appeared at the October Board meeting that Mr Ramsay began to acquire his reputation for eccentricity. And that's putting it mildly. A mild mannered man like him, too. Never said a word, usually. Kept his contributions to meetings to shaking his head in disapproval. Let everybody walk all over him. Especially Mr Giles.To be fair, there were people who said at the time that there was nothing wrong in wearing a glove puppet to a board meeting as such, but there were more who disagreed, and several who thought that Mr Ramsay was off his chump. The matter was hotly disputed in every one of the company's offices, on the shopfloor, in the canteen. Mr Ramsay was well-liked, even if everyone thought him ineffectual, so a lot of people stuck up for him, even if they thought the squirrel a bit odd. The one thing at which everybody drew the line, though, was his according the squirrel executive powers.It happened during Mr Giles's monthly overlong summary of the company's financial position. Two factors, he was saying, were making the prospects for Ramsay & Co look bleak. These were:1. the downturn in the ladies' hosiery market. Sales had, like the inferior products of the company's competitors, been slipping for years, and2. the inefficiency of Ramsay & Co compared to its competitors.The first of these factors spoke for itself, he said. There were simply fewer items of hosiery being sold, whether this was due to a new fashion for bare-leggedness due to the long hot summer combined with the undoubted increase in the uptake of feminine trouserings, or was a sign ofcontinued recession was not for him to say. Ramsay & Co simply had to face the facts, whether they liked them or not, and accept what the market was telling them. Reality didn't always turn out the way people wanted it to.The second factor, however, they could do something about. Ramsay & Co's costs were inordinately high compared to those of Ladylegs, for instance, who had been cutting back on staff over the last five years, reducing their workforce to one-fifth of its previous level. They were now<2>1. running a smooth, automated plant with high yield, minimum disruption and predictable throughput, and2. (even if their reputation for quality was nowhere near that of Ramsay & Co) capitalising on the low overheads and were, in business terms, far healthier.It was high time that Ramsay & Co got itself into a similar position, he said. The workforce had to be trimmed down, and modern plant had to be invested in. Mr Ramsay had to listen to what the market was telling him and continue modernising the business if it was to survive. Mr Giles had already implemented a number of changes that had had a beneficial effect, despite Mr Ramsay's reluctance to agree, but the firm had to go much, much further if it were to survive in today's increasingly competitive marketplace. Mr Giles was aware of Mr Ramsay's feelings on the matter of his staff, but he really felt that it was necessary to de-emphasise the idea of employer responsibility to staff in the company's ethos.None of the Board members was surprised at what Mr Giles had to say. He had, after all, said it all before, many times, over the past several months. Mr Ramsay had, until now, always stubbornly resisted him -insisting that Ramsay & Co was a family business, was still the largest hosiery manufacturer in Scotland and the North of England, and had a duty of loyalty to its staff, some of whom had been with the company for thirty or forty years - until grudgingly allowing Mr Giles to make some of the changes he was arguing for.This time, though, what happened was different from all the previous occasions similar things had taken place in two important respects:1. Mr Giles was now demanding much more far-reaching action than he had ever done before. He was arguing for a major reduction in the workforce, knowing that Mr Ramsay had always forbidden this in the past.2. Mr Ramsay had never before slowly produced a glove puppet from underneath the table. He had never had a squirrel sitting on his left hand during a presentation from any of the Board members, and he had never behaved as if nothing untoward was happening when it patently was. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and the other Board members sat shocked into rigid silence as Mr Giles droned on about overheads.<3>The only two pairs of eyes in the room focused in any way whatsoever on Mr Giles during his summation of the company's position were those of Mr Ramsay and the squirrel, both of whom were shaking their heads very slightly. Mr Ramsay was making the occasional tutting noise to indicate his lack of approval. Ms McCool, the Public Relations person, had her mouth wide open with surprise and was staring at the puppet.The puppet noticed her attention, and turned his whole body - he couldn't move his head independently - to meet her gaze. His big black eyes seemed to be taking her in detail by detail, and she withered slightly underhis scrutiny. He stared at her for more than a minute, then began a slow survey of the room and its occupants, turning slowly through 180 degrees. If something attracted his attention he would continue turning slowly past it then suddenly turn back, as if trying to take it by surprise, and stare at it intently for several seconds before resuming his slow arc.Mr Giles didn't notice for six or seven minutes. He was quite used to there being a deathly hush when he was speaking at Board meetings. Not many people could readily understand his figures and projections, so they usually had to pay very close attention to what he was saying.Not today, though. People were staring at the squirrel. It wasn't until Mr Giles paused in his disquisition to say 'if you could just bear with me a moment, I have a chart here which illustrates the extent to which we' that he looked up and noticed1. that he was not the centre of attention, and2. that there was a squirrel at the table.He was speechless. He forgot all about the chart illustrating the extent to which we, and all about the bleak financial position he had been so concerned about milliseconds ago. He rocked back on his heels and said'squirrel' before staggering back seven or eight paces until the backs of his knees connected with a grey plastic chair and he slumped down into it heavily.<4>'Thank you, John,' said Mr Ramsay. 'That was, as usual, very informative, and I'm sure that we all found it very interesting, if rather worrisome.'There was a pause. Everything was very quiet, like people were under some sort of spell. The effect was disrupted by Mr Ramsay, who bent down to his left, towards the squirrel. The squirrel reached up to whisper into his ear.'What's that, Squirrel Nutkin?' said Mr Ramsay.The squirrel whispered again.'Oh, I don't know if I agree' said Mr Ramsay. 'You may be quite right, but I think 'Sheer bloody incompetence' is overstating it somewhat. I do agree, though, that there are going to have to be some changes.'There was another pause. It was, if anything, more intense than the previous one. There was what might have been called an 'air' about the room. Of expectancy.After ninety seconds of eternity, Mr Ramsay spoke again. 'We think,' he said, 'that is, Squirrel Nutkin and I think, that it's time there was a new hand on the tiller. There won't be any more Board meetings for a while. Squirrel Nutkin and I are going to take over most aspects of the running of the company, though I do expect to be calling on you for advice. I'm appointing Squirrel Nutkin Managing Director, and I shall become a fully active chairman with executive powers and ultimate responsibility. I shall, however, be leaving the day-to-day decisions to my colleague.'He looked down at the squirrel, smiled at it, and nodded. It nodded back, then turned to face the former Board members. Mr Ramsay continued.'I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for all the sterling work you have done on behalf of the company over the years, and would like to say that none of you should feel in any way threatened by thedecisions that have been made here today. None of you will lose your position - I look upon you all as members of the Ramsay & Co family, very valuable members, sons and daughters.'<5>Mr Ramsay appeared to become almost tearful as he said this, but he regained his composure in a moment.'Well,' he said, 'I don't think there will be any further business for this meeting today, or, indeed, for the foreseeable future, so why don't you all take the rest of the afternoon off.'The others could sense that Mr Giles was definitely thinking of saying something, of questioning Mr Ramsay's actions, but they all knew it was futile, even Mr Giles. There was nothing anybody could do. Mr Ramsay owned the company. If he wanted to appoint a puppet managing director he was perfectly entitled to do so. The fact that he had in the past left the running of the company to the Board was neither here nor there. He had no shareholders to answer to - his family had built the company up and had kept it going, unusually, by re-investing their profits in the business instead of lining their own pockets. Mr Ramsay had sole control, even if he hadn't exercised it until now. The Board had just been one of his inventions, just a management tool, just there to save him from doing any actual work, to save him from having to make decisions. He was quite at liberty to dispense with it.2Mr Giles was furious when the redundancy notice came in the post the next day. It talked of the many many months of valuable service he had put in since he had been taken on at the Board's recommendation. The Board, it said, had felt that it had needed an injection of business acumen, and had seen in Mr Giles an excellent source of these skills. However, it continued, circumstances had now changed, and it was now felt necessary to de-emphasise the importance of commercial nous. Mr Giles recognised this phrase, and bristled with resentment at the sarcasm. The letter concluded by saying that the company would be more than willing to provide him with excellent references, should he wish to apply for another position elsewhere. It was signed 'Yours sincerely, S Nutkin, Managing Director.'He tore the letter into shreds, thought better of it and taped it back together. He took it into the office to confront Mr Ramsay with it.<6>When he got to the outer office, and spoke to Miss Paterson, he was told that Mr Ramsay wasn't there.'How can he not be here,' Mr Giles said. 'He's supposed to be running the company.''Mr Nutkin is here,' said Miss Paterson.'What?' Mr Giles realised he was shouting and made a conscious effort to calm himself.'I have been told to tell you that Mr Nutkin is here,' said Miss Paterson, though she said it in a soothing manner, as if she had a degree of sympathy for him.'This is ridiculous,' he said, and stormed into the office. It was darkened. Under the only lamp in the room sat the squirrel, writing a memo. It seemed larger than it had done at the board meeting, and slightly more animated. More alive.Strange.It looked up.'Ah, come in, John,' it said. 'I've been expecting you. This will be about the letter, I expect. Have a seat.' Its voice was strangely disembodied. Echoing. Ethereal, like the Voice of God emanating from on high.Mr Giles was taken aback to be addressed by the squirrel, but quickly overcame his shock. He swallowed hard and said, more, shouted, 'I will not bloody have a seat. I'm going to come round there, I'm going to wrench that puppet off your hand and I'm going to kick your arse, Ramsay, you sorry bastard.''Language,' said the squirrel, turning round to follow Mr Giles's progress round the desk. 'I think you're in for a bit of a surprise.'Mr Giles was, indeed, surprised on reaching the other side of the desk. He had expected to find Mr Ramsay crouched behind the desk with his hand working the squirrel, his hind quarters protruding. What he actually found was just a chair, with some sort of tray resting between its arms. The squirrel was sitting on this, on its own, unsupported. It had its back legs crossed, left over right.<7>For the second time in two days, Mr Giles staggered back, speechless.'Sit down,' the squirrel said.Mr Giles did, staggering back and sinking heavily into the simulation leather chair behind him. It made a soft pththth noise.'I'm not a glove puppet,' the squirrel said. 'I'm a sort of industrial hit man. I've been hired to do someone else's dirty work. Between you and me, Ramsay could never stand you, but was too frightened to say anything. He hired me to get rid of you. It was either that or have you killed, and that's not really his style.'There was a silence as Mr Giles took this in. 'I don't understand,' he said. 'A squirrel. A puppet. I thought I was doing a good job. For the firm,' he said, hesitantly, shaking his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose.'That's as maybe,' said the squirrel, 'but Ramsay's a sentimental old fool. He wasn't going to let you lay off most of the staff. It may not make any sense, commercially, but he thinks he's got responsibilities to them. You see now why you had to go.''I never thought he'd have the guts,' said Mr Giles. 'I can't believe I'm talking to a squirrel.''Indeed,' said the squirrel. 'But you are talking to a squirrel. You can see me, I'm talking to you. You've got to face facts, John.''But why?' said Mr Giles.'Why what?' said the squirrel.'All this,' Mr Giles said. He made an expansive sweep with his arm. 'You, my job. You're a squirrel, for God's sake.'英文经典短篇小说 - /janickye'Granted,' said the squirrel. 'I am a squirrel, but I have certain qualities. Qualities that Mr Ramsay found he was in need of. You were quite right about him. He hasn't got guts, certainly not the guts to get rid of you, that's why he needed me.' The squirrel's eye seemed to glint, malevolently. There was, Mr Giles thought, more than a hint of menace about it. It continued speaking. 'Still,' it said, 'you won't have too much trouble finding another position, I imagine. There are plenty of opportunities out there for a man with your aggressive marketing skills.'<8>'It's not going to be easy,' said Mr Giles.'Indeed,' said the squirrel. 'But you have to face facts, John. See this as a challenge, an opportunity, not as a problem. Well, good luck, and close the door behind you on the way out. Thanks.'The squirrel resumed its memo-writing.Mr Giles got up and headed for the door, befuddled, defeated, turning back to peer into the gloom surrounding the squirrel. Odd. Obviously. Fired by a talking squirrel. Very odd. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. He shrugged his shoulders and was about to step through the door, but the squirrel had one more thing to say.'There's more than one kind of puppet, John,' it called out after him.He didn't look back.Three dreams of life long。
经典英文短篇小说-(50)
The Cop and the Anthem by O.HenryOn his bench in Madison Square Soapy moved uneasily.When wild geese honk high of nights, and when women without sealskin coats grow kind to their husbands, and when Soapy moves uneasily on his bench in the park, you may know that winter is near at hand.A dead leaf fell in Soapy's lap.That was Jack Frost's card.Jack is kind to the regular denizens of Madison Square, and gives fair warning of his annual call.At the corners of four streets he hands his pasteboard to the North Wind, footman of the mansion of All Outdoors, so that the inhabitants thereof may make ready.Soapy's mind became cognisant of the fact that the time had come for him to resolve himself into a singular Committee of Ways and Means to provide against the coming rigour.And therefore he moved uneasily on his bench.The hibernatorial ambitions of Soapy were not of the highest.In them there were no considerations of Mediterranean cruises, of soporific Southern skies drifting in the Vesuvian Bay.Three months on the Island was what his soul craved.Three months of assured board and bed and congenial company, safe from Boreas and bluecoats, seemed to Soapy the essence of things desirable.For years the hospitable Blackwell's had been his winter quarters.Just as his more fortunate fellow New Yorkers had bought their tickets to Palm Beach and the Riviera each winter, so Soapy had made his humble arrangements for his annual hegira to the Island.And now the time was come.On the previous night three Sabbath newspapers, distributed beneath his coat, about his ankles and over his lap, had failed to repulse the cold as he slept on his bench near the spurting fountain in the ancient square.So the Island loomed big and timely in Soapy's mind.He scorned the provisions made in the name of charity for the city's dependents.In Soapy's opinion the Law was more benign than Philanthropy.There was an endless round of institutions, municipal and eleemosynary, on which he might set out and receive lodging and food accordant with the simple life.But to one of Soapy's proud spirit the gifts of charity are encumbered.If not in coin you must pay in humiliation of spirit for every benefit received at the hands of philanthropy.As Caesar had his Brutus, every bed of charity must have its toll of a bath, every loaf of bread its compensation of a private and personal inquisition.Wherefore it is better to be a guest of the law, which though conducted by rules, does not meddle unduly with a gentleman's private affairs.Soapy, having decided to go to the Island, at once set about accomplishing his desire.There were many easy ways of doing this.The pleasantest was to dine luxuriously at some expensive restaurant; and then, after declaring insolvency, be handed over quietly and without uproar to a policeman.An accommodating magistrate would do the rest.Soapy left his bench and strolled out of the square and across the level sea of asphalt, where Broadway and Fifth Avenue flow together.Up Broadway he turned, and halted at a glittering cafe, where are gathered together nightly the choicest products of the grape, the silkworm and the protoplasm.Soapy had confidence in himself from the lowest button of his vest upward.He was shaven, and his coat was decent and his neat black, ready-tied four-in-hand had been presented to him by a lady missionary on Thanksgiving Day.If he could reach a table in the restaurant unsuspected success would be his.The portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter's mind.A roasted mallard duck, thought Soapy, would be about the thing--with a bottle of Chablis, and then Camembert, a demi-tasse and a cigar.One dollar for the cigar would be enough.The total would not be so high as to call forth any supreme manifestation of revenge from the cafe management; and yet the meat would leave him filled and happy for the journey to his winter refuge.But as Soapy set foot inside the restaurant door the head waiter's eye fell upon his frayed trousers and decadent shoes.Strong and ready hands turned him about and conveyed him in silence and haste to the sidewalk and averted the ignoble fate of the menaced mallard.Soapy turned off Broadway.It seemed that his route to the coveted island was not to be an epicurean one.Some other way of entering limbo must be thought of.At a corner of Sixth Avenue electric lights and cunningly displayed wares behind plate-glass made a shop window conspicuous.Soapy took a cobblestone and dashed it through the glass.People came running around the corner, a policeman in the lead.Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled at the sight of brass buttons."Where's the man that done that?" inquired the officer excitedly."Don't you figure out that I might have had something to do with it?" said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly, as one greets good fortune.The policeman's mind refused to accept Soapy even as a clue.Men who smash windows do not remain to parley with the law's minions.They take to their heels.The policeman saw a man half way down the block running to catch a car.With drawn club he joined in the pursuit.Soapy, with disgust in his heart, loafed along, twice unsuccessful.On the opposite side of the street was a restaurant of no great pretensions.Itcatered to large appetites and modest purses.Its crockery and atmosphere were thick; its soup and napery thin.Into this place Soapy took his accusive shoes and telltale trousers without challenge.At a table he sat and consumed beefsteak, flapjacks, doughnuts and pie.And then to the waiter be betrayed the fact that the minutest coin and himself were strangers."Now, get busy and call a cop," said Soapy."And don't keep a gentleman waiting.""No cop for youse," said the waiter, with a voice like butter cakes and an eye like the cherry in a Manhattan cocktail."Hey, Con!"Neatly upon his left ear on the callous pavement two waiters pitched Soapy.He arose, joint by joint, as a carpenter's rule opens, and beat the dust from his clothes.Arrest seemed but a rosy dream.The Island seemed very far away.A policeman who stood before a drug store two doors away laughed and walked down the street.Five blocks Soapy travelled before his courage permitted him to woo capture again.This time the opportunity presented what he fatuously termed to himself a "cinch." A young woman of a modest and pleasing guise was standing before a show window gazing with sprightly interest at its display of shaving mugs and inkstands, and two yards from the window a large policeman of severe demeanour leaned against a water plug.It was Soapy's design to assume the role of the despicable and execrated "masher." The refined and elegant appearance of his victim and the contiguity of the conscientious cop encouraged him to believe that he would soon feel the pleasant official clutch upon his arm that would insure his winter quarters on the right little, tight little isle.Soapy straightened the lady missionary's readymade tie, dragged his shrinking cuffs into the open, set his hat at a killing cant and sidled toward the young woman.He made eyes at her, was taken with sudden coughs and "hems," smiled, smirked and went brazenly through the impudent and contemptible litany of the "masher." With half an eye Soapy saw that the policeman was watching him fixedly.The young woman moved away a few steps, and again bestowed her absorbed attention upon the shaving mugs.Soapy followed, boldly stepping to her side, raised his hat and said:"Ah there, Bedelia! Don't you want to come and play in my yard?"The policeman was still looking.The persecuted young woman had but to beckon a finger and Soapy would be practically en route for his insular haven.Already he imagined he could feel the cozy warmth of the station-house.The young woman faced him and, stretching out a hand, caught Soapy's coat sleeve."Sure, Mike," she said joyfully, "if you'll blow me to a pail of suds.I'd havespoke to you sooner, but the cop was watching."With the young woman playing the clinging ivy to his oak Soapy walked past the policeman overcome with gloom.He seemed doomed to liberty.At the next corner he shook off his companion and ran.He halted in the district where by night are found the lightest streets, hearts, vows and librettos.Women in furs and men in greatcoats moved gaily in the wintry air.A sudden fear seized Soapy that some dreadful enchantment had rendered him immune to arrest.The thought brought a little of panic upon it, and when he came upon another policeman lounging grandly in front of a transplendent theatre he caught at the immediate straw of "disorderly conduct."On the sidewalk Soapy began to yell drunken gibberish at the top of his harsh voice.He danced, howled, raved and otherwise disturbed the welkin.The policeman twirled his club, turned his back to Soapy and remarked to a citizen."'Tis one of them Yale lads celebratin' the goose egg they give to the Hartford College.Noisy; but no harm.We've instructions to lave them be."Disconsolate, Soapy ceased his unavailing racket.Would never a policeman lay hands on him? In his fancy the Island seemed an unattainable Arcadia.He buttoned his thin coat against the chilling wind.In a cigar store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar at a swinging light.His silk umbrella he had set by the door on entering.Soapy stepped inside, secured the umbrella and sauntered off with it slowly.The man at the cigar light followed hastily."My umbrella," he said, sternly."Oh, is it?" sneered Soapy, adding insult to petit larceny."Well, why don't you call a policeman? I took it.Your umbrella! Why don't you call a cop? There stands one on the corner."The umbrella owner slowed his steps.Soapy did likewise, with a presentiment that luck would again run against him.The policeman looked at the two curiously."Of course," said the umbrella man--"that is--well, you know how these mistakes occur--I--if it's your umbrella I hope you'll excuse me--I picked it up this morning in a restaurant--If you recognise it as yours, why--I hope you'll--""Of course it's mine," said Soapy, viciously.The ex-umbrella man retreated.The policeman hurried to assist a tall blonde in an opera cloak across the street in front of a street car that was approaching two blocks away.Soapy walked eastward through a street damaged by improvements.He hurled the umbrella wrathfully into an excavation.He muttered against the men who wear helmets and carry clubs.Because he wanted to fall into their clutches, they seemedto regard him as a king who could do no wrong.At length Soapy reached one of the avenues to the east where the glitter and turmoil was but faint.He set his face down this toward Madison Square, for the homing instinct survives even when the home is a park bench.But on an unusually quiet corner Soapy came to a standstill.Here was an old church, quaint and rambling and gabled.Through one violet-stained window a soft light glowed, where, no doubt, the organist loitered over the keys, making sure of his mastery of the coming Sabbath anthem.For there drifted out to Soapy's ears sweet music that caught and held him transfixed against the convolutions of the iron fence.The moon was above, lustrous and serene; vehicles and pedestrians were few; sparrows twittered sleepily in the eaves--for a little while the scene might have been a country churchyard.And the anthem that the organist played cemented Soapy to the iron fence, for he had known it well in the days when his life contained such things as mothers and roses and ambitions and friends and immaculate thoughts and collars.The conjunction of Soapy's receptive state of mind and the influences about the old church wrought a sudden and wonderful change in his soul.He viewed with swift horror the pit into which he had tumbled, the degraded days, unworthy desires, dead hopes, wrecked faculties and base motives that made up his existence.And also in a moment his heart responded thrillingly to this novel mood.An instantaneous and strong impulse moved him to battle with his desperate fate.He would pull himself out of the mire; he would make a man of himself again; he would conquer the evil that had taken possession of him.There was time; he was comparatively young yet; he would resurrect his old eager ambitions and pursue them without faltering.Those solemn but sweet organ notes had set up a revolution in him.To-morrow he would go into the roaring downtown district and find work.A fur importer had once offered him a place as driver.He would find him to-morrow and ask for the position.He would be somebody in the world.He would-- Soapy felt a hand laid on his arm.He looked quickly around into the broad face of a policeman."What are you doin' here?" asked the officer."Nothin'," said Soapy."Then come along," said the policeman."Three months on the Island," said the Magistrate in the Police Court the next morning.。
lion dance 英文文章
lion dance 英文文章Title: The Vibrant History of the Lion DanceThe lion dance, a traditional performance deeply rooted in Chinese culture, is a vibrant and enchanting display of skill and symbolism. It is considered auspicious, bringing luck and prosperity, and is often performed during special occasions and festivals. The dance, with its intricate movements and powerful energy, embodies the essence of Chinese culture, particularly in the areas of folklore, performing arts, and visual arts.The origins of the lion dance trace back to ancient China, where it was believed to ward off evil spirits and bring good luck. Over time, it evolved into a highly skilled performance art, with performers模仿狮子模仿狮子的动作和形态, creating a lifelike illusion of a lion's presence. The costumes worn by the performers are often richly adorned and colorful, symbolizing the lion's majesty and power.The lion dance is usually accompanied by drums, cymbals, and gongs, creating a dynamic and exciting soundscape. The musiccomplements the movements of the performers, adding to the overall impact of the performance. Performances are often interactive, with the lion“dance”狮舞动起来“dancing”进商家店铺, engaging with spectators and providing an engaging experience for all involved.Today, the lion dance has become a cultural icon, representing not only Chinese culture but also various Asian cultures around the world. It is a testament to the power of tradition and its ability to adapt and thrive in modern times. The lion dance serves as a连接文化传承的纽带link between past and present, bridging the old with the new and keeping the heritage alive for generations to come.。
初中 九下英语 阅读treet dance
Read para. 3-4 and answer the following questions
1. Who taught the students street dance? 2. When did students learn and practice the dances? 3. Why did the school introduce street dance as a subject? （para. 4）
Read para. 5 and answer
How did street dance help students to solve these problems?
5
They could express their feelings in dancing. 1. Dancing can help get rid of anger. 2. Dancing helped them to be calmer. 3. The students felt better about themselves.
Today bands have formed that combine singing with street dance. Street
dance is becoming a popular culture.
Read the passage quickly and match the main idea.
初三下册阅读
Street dance
What is the TV program?
Street dance
Street dance is an energetic and dramatic type of dance. It started with
英语绘本dance的读后感受
英语绘本dance的读后感受英文回答："Dance" by Andrea Pinkney is a captivating picture book that celebrates the joy and power of dance. The story follows a young girl named Toshi who is hesitant to dancein front of others. However, with the encouragement of her grandmother, she slowly gains confidence and discovers the transformative power of movement.The book's vibrant illustrations capture the beauty and expressiveness of dance, while Pinkney's lyrical text conveys the emotions and experiences of a young dancer. Through Toshi's journey, the book teaches valuable lessons about self-belief, perseverance, and the importance of embracing one's passions."Dance" not only inspires children to explore the world of dance but also emphasizes the universal language of movement. It shows that dance can bridge cultural dividesand connect people of all backgrounds. The book concludes with a message of hope and encouragement, reminding readers that "anybody can dance."中文回答：《舞动》这本书由安德里亚·平克尼创作，是一本引人入胜的图画书，歌颂了舞蹈的快乐与力量。
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A BUSH DANCEBy Henry Lawson “tap, tap, tap，”The little schoolhouse and residence in the scrub was lighted brightly in the mids t of the“close”,solid blackness of that moonless December night, when the sky a nd stars were smothered and suffocated by drought haze.It was the evening of the school children’s “Feast”. That is to say that the childre n had been sent, and“let go”，and the younger ones“fetched”through the blazin g heat to the school, one day early in the holidays, and raced—sometimes in co uples tied together by the legs—and caked, and bunned, and fnally improved u pon by the local Chadband, and got rid of.The schoolroom had been cleared fo r dancing, the maps rolled and tied, the desks and blackboards stacked against t he wall outside.Tea was over, and the trestles and boards, whereon had been spr ead better things than had been provided for the unfortunate youngsterhad bee n taken outside to keep the desks and blackboards company.On stools running end to end along one side of the room sat about twenty mor e or less blooming country girls of from ffteen to twenty odd.On the rest of the stools, running end to end along the other wall, sat about twe nty more or less blooming chaps.It was evident that something was seriously wrong. None of the girls spoke abov e a hushed whisper.None of the men spoke above a hushed oath.Now and again two or three sidled out, and if you had followed them you would have found t hat they went outside to listen hard into the darkness and to swear.“tap, tap, tap.”The rows moved uneasily, and some of the girls turned pale faces nervously tow ards the side-door, in the direction of the sound.“tap—tap.”The tapping came from the kitchen at the rear of the teacher’s residence, and w as uncomfortably suggestive of a coffin being made：it was also accompanied b y a sickly, indescribable odour—more like that of warm cheap glue than anythin g else.In the schoolroom was a painful scene of strained listening. Whenever one of th e men returned from outside, or put his head in at the door, all eyes were fasten ed on him in the fash of a single eye, and then withdrawn hopelessly.At the soun d of a horse’s step all eyes and ears were on the door, till some one muttered，‘It’s only the horses in the paddock.’Some of the girls’eyes began to glisten suspiciously, and at last the belle of th e party—a great, dark-haired, pink-and-white Blue Mountain girl, who had bee n sitting for a full minute staring before her, with blue eyes unnaturally bright, su ddenly covered her face with her hands, rose, and started blindly from the roo m, from which she was steered in a hurry by two sympathetic and rather‘upset’gi rl friends, and as she passed out she was heard sobbing hysterically—“Oh, I can’t help it！I did want to dance！It’s a sh-shame！I can’t help it！I—I want to dance！I rode twenty miles to dance—and—and I want to dance！”A tall, strapping young Bushman rose, without disguise, and followed the girl ou t. The rest began to talk loudly of stock, dogs, and horses, and other Bush thing s；but above their voices rang out that of the girl from the outside—being ma n comforted—“I can’t help it, Jack！I did want to dance！I—I had such—such—a job—to get mother—and—and father to let me come—and—and now！”The two girl friends came back. “He sez to leave her to him，”they whispered, i n reply to an interrogatory glance from the schoolmistress.“It’s—it’s no use, Jack！”came the voice of grief.“You don’t know what—what fat her and mother—is. I—I won’t—be able—to ge-get away—again—for—for—n ot till I’m married, perhaps.”The schoolmistress glanced uneasily along the row of girls.“I’ll take her into my room and make her lie down，”shewhispered to h er sister, who was staying with her.“she’ll start some of the other girls presently —it’s just the weather for it，”and she passed out quietly. That schoolmistress w as a woman of penetration.A final “tap-tap”from the kitchen；then a sound like the squawk of a hurt or fri ghtened child, and the faces in the room turned quickly in that direction and bri ghtened. But there came a bang and a sound like“damn！”and hopelessness set tled down.A shout from the outer darkness, and most of the men and some of the girls ros e and hurried out. Fragments of conversation heard in the darkness—“It’s two horses, I tell you！”“It’s three, you—！”“Lay you—！”“Put the stuff up！”A clack of gate thrown open. “Who is it, Tom?”Voices from gatewards, yelling，“Johnny Mears！They’ve got Johnny Mears！”Then rose yells, and a cheer such as is seldom heard in scrub-lands.Out in the kitchen long Dave Regan grabbed, from the far side of the table, whe re he had thrown it, a burst and battered concertina, which he had been for the l ast hour vainly trying to patch and make air-tight；and, holding it out towards t he back-door, between his palms, as a football is held, he let it drop, and fetche d it neatly on the toe of his riding-boot. It was a beautiful kick, the concertina sh ot out into the blackness, from which was projected, in return, frst a short, sudde n howl, then a face with one eye glaring and the other covered by an enormou s brick-coloured hand, and a voice that wanted to know who shot‘that lurid loa f of bread?’But from the schoolroom was heard the loud, free voice of Joe Matthews, M. C.，“take yer partners！Hurry up！Take yer partners！They’ve got Johnn y Mears with his fddle！”。