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自考英语阅读一00595课文

自考英语阅读一00595课文

1. A Day’s Wait

E. Hemingway

TEXT

He came into the room to shut the windows while we were still in bed and I saw he looked ill. He was shivering, his face was white, and he walked slowly as though it ached to move.

“What’s the matter, Schatz?”

“I’ve got a headache.”

“You better go back to bed.”

“No. I’m all right.”

“You go to bed. I’ll see you when I’m dressed.”

But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I know he had a fever.

“You go up to bed,” I said, “you’re sick.”

“I’m all right,” he said.

When the doctor came he took the boy’s temperature. “what is it?”

I

asked him.

“One hundred and two.”

Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different coloured capsules with instructions for giving them. One was to bring

down the fever, another a purgative, the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above on hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic of flu and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia.

Back in the room I wrote th e boy’s temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules.

“Do you want me to read to you?”

“All right. If you want to,” said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached from what was going on.

I read aloud from Howard Pyle’s Book of Privates; but I could see

he was not following what I was reading.

“How do you feel, Schatz?” I asked him.

“Just the same, so far,” he said.

I sat at the foot of the bed and read to myself while I waited for

it to be time to give another capsule. It would have been natural for him to go to sleep, but when I looked up he was looking at the foot of the bed, looking very strangely.

“Why don’t you try to sleep? I’ll wake you up for the medicine.”

“I’d rather stay awake.”

After a while he said to me, “You don’t have to stay in here with me,

Papa, if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“No, I mean you don’t have to stay if it’s going to bother you.”

I thought perhaps he was a little lightheaded and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o’clock I went out for a while.

It was a bright, cold day, the ground covered with a sleet that had frozen so that it seemed as if all the bare trees, the bushes, the cut brush and all the grass and the bare ground had been varnished with ice.

I took the young Irish setter for a little walk up the road and along a frozen creek, but it was difficult to stand or walk on the glassy surface and the red dog slipped and slithered and I fell twice, hard, once dropping my gun and having it slide away over the ice.

We flushed a covey of quail under a high clay bank with overhanging brush and I killed two as they went out of sight over the top of the bank. Some of the covey lit in trees, but most of them scattered into brush piles and it was necessary to jump on the ice-coated mounds of brush several times before they would flush. Coming out while you were poised unsteadily on the icy, springy brush they made difficult shooting and I killed two, missed five, and started back pleased to have found a covey close to the house and happy there were so many left to find on another day.

At the house they said the boy had refused to let anyone come into the room.

“You can’t come in.” he said. “You mustn’t get what I have.”

I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.

I took his temperature.

“Something like a hundred.” I said. It was one hundred and two and four-tenths.

“It was a hundred and two,” he said.

“Who said so?”

“The doctor.”

“Your temperature is all right,” I said. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t worry,” he said, “but I can’t keep from thinking.”

“Don’t think,” I said, “Just take it easy.”

“I’m taking it easy,” he said and looked straight ahead. He was evidently holding tight onto himself about something.

“Take this with water.”

“Do you think it will do any good?”

“Of course it will.”

I sat down and opened the Pirate book and commenced to read, but I could see he was not following, so I stopped.

“About what time will it be before I die?”

“You aren’t going to die. What’s the matter with?”

“Oh, yes, I am. I heard him say a hundred and two.”

“People don’t die with a fever of one hundred and two. That’s a silly

way to talk.”

“I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can’t live

with forty-four degrees. I’ve got a hundred and two.”

“You poor Schatz,” I said. “Poor old Schatz. It’s like miles and kilometers. You aren’t going to die. That’s a different thermometer. On

that thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it’s

ninety-eight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “It’s like miles and kilometers. You know, like how many kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car.”

“Oh,” he said.

But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself relaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried very easily at little things that were of no importance.

2. The Open Window

After Saki

TEXT

“My aunt will come down very soon, Mr. Nuttel,” said a very calm young lady of fifteen years of age; “meanwhile you must try to bear my

company.”

Framton Nuttel tried to say something which would please the niece now present, without annoying the aunt that was about to come. He was supposed to be going through a cure for his nerves, but he doubted whether these polite visits to a number of total strangers would help much.

“I know how it will be,” his sister had said when he was preparing to go away in to country; “you will lose yourself down there and not speak to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever through loneliness. I shall just give you letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as I can remember, were quite nice.”

Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was

bring one of the letters of introduction, one of the nice ones.

“Do you know many of the people round here?” asked the niece, when she thought that they had sat long enough in silence.

“Hardly one,” said Framton. “My sister was staying here, you know, about four years ago, and she give me letters of introduction to

some of the people here.”

He made the last statement in a sad voice.

“Then you know almost nothing about my aunt?” continued the calm young lady.

“Only her name and address;” Framton admitted. He was wondering

whether Mrs. Sappleton was married; perhaps she had been married and her husband was dead. But there was something of a man in the room.

“Her great sorrow came just three years ago,” said the child.

“That

would be after your sister’s time.”

“Her sorrow?” asked Framton. Somehow, in this restful country

place, sorrows seemed far away.

“You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon,” said the niece, pointing to a long window that opened like a door on to the grass outside.

“It is quite warm for the time of the year,” said Framton; “but

has

that window got anything to do with your aunt’s sorrow?”

“Out through that window, exactly three years ago, her husband and her two young brothers went off for their day’s shooting. They never came back. In crossing the country to the shooting-ground they were

all three swallowed in a bog. It had been that terrible wet summer, you know, and places that were safe in other years became suddenly dangerous. Their bodies were never found. That was the worst part of it.”

Here the cild’s voice lo st its calm sound and became almost human. “Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday, they and the little brown dog that was lost with them, and walk in at that window

just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it is quite dark. Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how

they went out, her husband with his white coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing a song, as he always did to annoy her, because she said it affected her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on quiet evenings like this, I almost get a strange feeling that they will all walk in through the window-“

She stopped and trembled. It was a relief to Framton when the aunt came busily into the room and apologized for being late.

“I hope vera has been amusing you?” she said.

“She has been very interesting,” said Framton.

“I hope you don’t mind the open window,” said Mrs. Sappleton

brightly; “my husband and brothers will be home soon from shooting, and they always come in this way. T hey’ve been shooting birds today

near the

bog, so they’ll make my poor carpets dirty. All you men do that

sort of thing, don’t you?”

She talked on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and the hopes of shooting in the winter. To Framton it was all quite terrible. He made a great effort, which was only partly successful, to turn the talk on to a more cheerful subject. He was conscious that

his hostess was giving him only a part of her attention, and her eyes were frequently looking past him to the open window and the grass beyond. It was certainly unfortunate that he should have paid his visit on this sorrowful day.

“The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, no excitement and no bodily exercise,” said Framton, who had the common id ea that total strangers want to know the least detail of one’s illnesses, their cause and cure.

“No?” said Mrs. Sappleton in a tired voice. Then she suddenly brightened into attention-but not to what Framton was saying.

“Here they are at last!” she cried. “Just in time for tea, and don’t

they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!”

Framton trembled slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended to show sympathetic understanding. The child was looking out through the open window with fear in her eyes. With a shock Framton turned round in his seat and looked in the same direction.

In the increasing darkness three figures were walking across the grass towards the window; they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them had also a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown dog kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they drew near to the house, and then a young voice started to sing in the darkness.

Framton wildly seized his hat and stick; he ran out through the

front door and through the gate. He nearly ran into a man on a bicycle.

“Here we are, my dear,” said the bearer of the white coat, coming in through the window; “fairly muddy, but most of it’s dry. Who was that

who ran out as we came up?”

“A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel,” said Mrs. Sappleton,

“he

could only talk about his illnesses, and ran off without a word of good-bye or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost.”

“I expect it was a dog,” said the niece calmly, “he told me he had a

terrible fear of dogs, he was once hunted into a graveyard somewhere in India by a lot of wild dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly-dug grave with the creature just above him. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve.”

She was very clever at making up stories quickly.

3. Bringing Up Children

Gerald Mosback Vivienne Mosback

TEXT

It is generally accepted that the experiences of the child in his

first years largely determine his character and later personality. Every experience teaches the child something and the effects are cumulative. “Upbringing” is normally used to refer to the treatment and training of the child within the home. This is closely related to the treatment and training of the child in school, which is usually distinguished by the term “education”. In a society such as ours, both parents and teachers are responsible for the opportunities provided for the

development of the child, so that upbringing and education are interdependent.

The ideals and practices of child rearing vary from culture to culture. In general, the more rural the community, the more uniform are the customs of child upbringing. In more technologically developed societies, the period childhood and adolescence tends to be extended over a long time, resulting in more opportunity for education and greater variety in character development.

Early upbringing in the home is naturally affected both by the cultural pattern of the community and by the parents’ capabilities and their aims and depends not only on upbringing and education but also on the innate abilities of the child. Wild differences of innate intelligence and temperament exist even in children of the same family.

Parents can ascertain what is normal in physical, mental and social development, by referring to some of the many books based on scientific knowledge in these areas, or less reliably, since the sample is smaller, by comparing notes with friends and relatives who have children.

Intelligent parents, however, realize that the particular setting of each family is unique, and there can be no rigid general rules. They use general information only as a guide in making decisions and solving problems. For example, they will need specific suggestions for problems such as speech defects or backwardness in learning to walk or control of bodily functions. In the more general sense, though, problems of upbringing are recognized to be problems of relationships within the

individual family, the first necessity being a secure emotional background with parents who are united in their attitude to their children.

All parents have to solve the problems of freedom and discipline. The younger the child, the more readily the mother give in to his demands to avoid disappointing him. She knows that if his energies are not given an o utlet, her child’s continuing development may be warped.

An example of this is the young child’s need to play with the mud and

sand and water. A child must be allowed to enjoy this “messy” but tactile

stage of discovery before he is ready to go on to the less physical pleasures of toys and books. Similarly, throughout life, each stage depends on the satisfactory completion of the one before.

Where one stage of child development has been left out, or not sufficiently experienced, the child may have to go back and capture the experience of it. A good home makes this possible-for example by providing the opportunity for the child to play with a clockwork car or toy railway train up to any age if he still needs to do so. This principle, in fact, underlies all psychological treatment of children in difficulties with their development, and is the basis of work in child clinics.

The beginnings of discipline are in the nursery. Even the youngest baby is taught by gradual stages to wait for food, to sleep and to wake

at regular intervals and so on. If the child feels the world around him

is a warm and friendly one, he slowly accepts its rhythm and accustoms himself to conforming to its demands. Learning to wait for things, particularly for food, is a very important element in upbringing, and is achieved successfully only if too great demands are not made before the child can understand them.

Every parent watches eagerly the child’s acquisition of each new

skill-the first spoken words, the first independent steps, or the beginning of reading and writing. It is often tempting to hurry the

child beyond his natural learning rate, but this can set up dangerous feelings of failure and states of anxiety in the child. This might happen at any stage. A baby might be forced to us a toilet too early, a young child might be encouraged to learn to read before he knows the meaning of the words he reads. On the other hand, though, if a child is left alone too much, or without any learning opportunities, he loses his natural zest for life and his desire to find out new things for himself.

Learning together is a fruitful source of relationship between children and parents. By playing together, parents learn more about

their children and children learn more from their parents. Toys and games which both parents and children can share are an important means

of achieving this cooperation. Building block toys and jigsaw puzzles

and crosswords are good examples.

Parents vary greatly in their degree of strictness and indulgence towards their children. Some may be especially strict in money matters;

others are severe over times of coming home at night, punctuality for meals or personal cleanliness. In general, the controls imposed

represent the needs of the parents and the values of the community as much as the child’s own happiness and well-being.

As regards the development of moral standards in the growing child, consistency is very important in parental teaching. To forbid a thing

one day and excuse it the next is no foundation for morality. Also, parents should realize that “example is better than precept”. If they are

hypocritical and do not practice what they preach, their children

may grow confused and emotionally insecure when they grow old enough to think for themselves, and realize they have been to some extent deceived.

A sudden awareness of a marked difference between their parents ethics and their morals can be a dangerous disillusion.

4. American Social Relations

Gladys G. Doty Janet Ross

TEXT

American society is much more informal than that of many other countries and, in some ways, is characterized by less social distinction. The American mixture of pride in achievement and sense of “I’m just as good as anybody else.” Along with lack of importance placed on personal dignity, is difficult for a foreigner to understand. Americans

in general do not like to be considered inferior, and they grumble

loudly about inconveniences or not getting a “fair deal.” Yet they do not make a point

of their personal honor. As an illustration of the difference between European and American reflection in this respect, John Whyte in American Words and Ways gives the following account.

A… [European] professor [visiting in America] was once sent a bill for hospital services which he had never enjoyed. The bill was accompanied by a strong letter demanding payment. It was obvious that a mistake in names had been made, but the professor, thoroughly aroused by this reflection on his character and financial integrity, wrote a vigorous letter of reply (which an American might also have done). But in this letter of reply he demanded that the creditor write him a formal letter of apology … for this reflection on his honor. Since no

publicity could possibly have been given to the mistake, for mistake it was, most Americans in that situation, after getting the matter off

their chest (or without doing that) would have let the matter rest.

An example of the same thing may be that although Americans like to talk about their accomplishments, it is their custom to show certain modesty in reply to compliments. When someone praises an American upon his achievement or upon his personal appearance, which,

incidentally, is a very polite thing to do in America, the American turns it aside. If someone should say, “Cong ratulations upon being elected

president of the club,” an American is expected to reply, “Well, I hope I

can do a good job,” or something of the sort. Or if someone says, “That’s

a pretty blue necktie you are wearing,” an American is likely to say, “I’m

glad you like it,” or “Thank you. My wife gave it to me for my birthday.”

The response to a compliment seldom conveys the idea, “I, too,

think I’m

pretty good.”

Likewise, there are fewer social conventions that show social differences in America. Students do not rise when a teacher enters the room. One does not always address a person by his title, such as “Professor” or “Doctor” (“Doctor” is always used, however, for a doctor

of medicine). The respectful “sir” is not always used in the northern and western parts of the country.

Clothing in America, as in every place in the world, to a certain degree reflects a person’s social position and income, or, at least among the young, his attitudes toward society or toward himself. Yet no person is restricted to a certain uniform or manner of dress because of his occupations or class in society. A bank president may wear overalls

to paint his house and is not ashamed of either the job or the clothing, and a common laborer may wear a rented tuxedo at his daught er’s wedding.

Yet in spite of all the informality, America is not completely without customs that show consciousness of social distinction. For example, one is likely to use somewhat more formal language when talking to superiors. While the informal “Hello” is an acceptable greeting from employee to employer, the employee is more apt to say, “Hello, Jim.” Southerners make a point of saying “Yes, sir,” or “Yes,

ma’am,” or “No, sir,” or “No, ma’am,” when talking to an

older person or a

person in po-sition of authority. Although this is a good form all over the United States, “Yes, Mr. Weston” or “No, Mrs. Baker” is somewhat

more common in a similar situa-tion in the North or West.

Certain other forms of politeness are observed on social occasions. Though people wear hats less now than in the past, women still occasionally wear hats in church and at public social functions (except those that are in the evening).

In America there are still customs by which a man may show respect

for a woman. He opens the door for her and lets her precede him through it. He walks on the side of the walk nearest the street. He takes her arm when crossing a street or descending a stairway. A younger person

also shows respect for an older one in much the same fashion, by helping the older person in things requiring physical exertion or involving possible accident.

American surface informality often confuses the foreigner because he interprets it to mean no formality at all. He does not understand the point at which informality stops. A teacher, though friendly, pleasant, and informal in class, expects students to study hard, and he grades each student’s work critically and carefully. He also expects to be treated with respect. Although students are free to ask questions about statements made by the teacher, and may say that they disagree with what he says, they are not expected to contradict him. Similarly,

in boy-girl relationships a foreign student should not mistake the easy relationship and flattery that are part of the dating pattern in the United States, nor presume that it means more than it does.

Also, because an American is perhaps more likely to admit and laugh at his own mistakes than one who stands more on his dignity, a foreigner sometimes does not know how to hand le the American’s apparent modest.

The American is quite ready to admit certain weaknesses, such as “I never was good at mathematics.” “I’m a rotten tennis player.” Or “I’m the

world’s worst bridge player.” However, the stranger must not be

too

quick to agree with him. Americans think it is all right, even sporting, to admit a defect in themselves, but they feel that it is

almost an insult to have someone else agree. A part of American idea of good sportsmanship is the point of being generous to a loser. This attitude is carried over into matters that have nothing to do with competition. If a man talks about his weak points, the listener says something in the way of encouragement, or points to other qualities in which the speaker excels. An American student reports that when he was in a foreign country he was completely stunned when he said to a native, “I don’t

speak your language very well.” And the native replied, “I should say you

don’t.” in a similar situation an American would have commented, “Wel l,

you have only been here two months.” or “But you’re making progress.”

Although Americans are quite informal, it is best for a foreigner,

in case of doubt, to be too formal rather than not formal enough. Consideration for others is the basis of all courtesy.

5. New Applications

After Chandlee Stokes

TEXT

Miriam Storley left the bank at 4:15 exactly. People along Division Street said you could set your watch by Miriam; she always left her job at eh First State Bank of Cannon Falls at this hour, Monday through Friday, except on holidays. On Fridays she returned to work the six-to-