高级英语第一册课文

The Middle Eastern Bazaar The Middle Eastern bazaar takes you back hundreds --- even thousands --- of years. The one I am thinking of particularly is entered by a Gothic - arched gateway of aged brick and stone. You pass from the heat and glare of a big, open square into a cool, dark cavern which extends as far as the eye can see, losing itself in the shadowy distance. Little donkeys with harmoniously tinkling bells thread their way among the throngsof people entering and leaving the bazaar. The roadway is about twelve feet wide, but it is narrowed every few yards by little stalls where goods of every conceivable kind are sold. The din of the stall-holder; crying their wares, of donkey-boys and porters clearing a way for themselves by shouting vigorously, and of would-be purchasers arguing and bargaining is continuous and makes you dizzy. 　　Then as you penetrate deeper into the bazaar, the noise of the entrance fades away, and you come to the muted cloth-market. The earthen floor, beaten hard by countless feet, deadens the sound of footsteps, and the vaulted mud-brick walls and roof have hardly any sounds to echo. The shop-keepers speak in slow, measured tones, and the buyers, overwhelmed by the sepulchral atmosphere, follow suit . 　　One of the peculiarities of the Eastern bazaar is that shopkeepers dealing in the same kind of goods do not scatter themselves over the bazaar, in order to avoid competition, but collect in the same area, so that purchasers can know where to find them, and so that they can form a closely knit guild against injustice or persecution . In the cloth-market, for instance, all the sellers of material for clothes, curtains, chair covers and so on line the roadway on both sides, each open-fronted shop having a trestle trestle table for display and shelves for storage. Bargaining is the order of the cay, and veiled women move at a leisurely pace from shop to shop, selecting, pricing and doing a little preliminary bargaining before they narrow down their choice and begin the really serious business of beating the price down. 　　It is a point of honour with the customer not to let the shopkeeper guess what it is she really likes and wants until the last moment. If he does guess correctly, he will price the item high, and yield little in the bargaining. The seller, on the other hand, makes a point of protesting that the price he is charging is depriving him of all profit, and that he is sacrificing this because of his personal regard for the customer. Bargaining can go on the whole day, or even several days, with the customer coming and going at intervals . 　　One of the most picturesque and impressive parts of the bazaar is the copper-smiths' market. As you approach it, a tinkling and banging and clashing begins to impinge on your ear. It grows louder and more distinct, until you round a corner and see a fairyland of dancing flashes, as the burnished copper catches the light of innumerable lamps and braziers . In each shop sit the apprentices – boys and youths, some of them incredibly young – hammering away at copper vessels of all shapes and sizes, while the shop-owner instructs, and sometimes takes a hand with a hammer himself. In the background, a tiny apprentice blows a bi-, charcoal fir e with a huge leather bellowsworked by a string attached to his big toe -- the red of the live coals glowing, bright and then dimming rhythmicallyto the strokes of the bellows. 　　Here you can find beautiful pots and bowls engrave with delicate and intricate traditional designs, or the simple, everyday kitchenware used in this country, pleasing in form, but undecorated and strictly functional. Elsewhere there is the carpet-market, with its profusion of rich colours, varied textures and regional designs -- some bold and simple, others unbelievably detailed and yet harmonious. Then there is the spice-market, with its pungent and exotic smells; and the food-market, where you can buy everything you need for the most sumptuous dinner, or sit in a tiny restaurant with porters and apprentices and eat your humble bread and cheese. The dye-market, the pottery-market and the carpenters' market lie elsewhere in the maze of vaulted streets which honeycomb this bazaar. Every here and there, a doorway gives a glimpse of a sunlit courtyard, perhaps before a mosque or a caravanserai , where camels lie disdainfully chewing their hay, while the great bales of merchandise they have carried hundreds of miles across the desert lie beside them. 　　Perhaps the most unforgettable thing in the bazaar, apart from its general atmosphere, is the place where they make linseed oil. It is a vast, sombre cavern of a room, some thirty feet high and sixty feet square, and so thick with the dust of centuries that the mudbrick walls and vaulted roof are only dimly visible. In this cavern are three massive stone wheels, each with a huge pole through its centre as an axle. The pole is attached at the one end to an upright post, around which it can revolve, and at the other to a blind-folded camel, which walks constantly in a circle, providing the motive power to turn the stone wheel. This revolves in a circular stone channel, into which an attendant feeds linseed. The stone wheel crushes it to a pulp, which is then pressed to extract the oil .The camels are the largest and finest I have ever seen, and in superb condition – muscular, massive and stately. 　　The pressing of the linseed pulp to extract the oil is done by a vast ramshackle apparatus of beams and ropes and pulleys which towers to the vaulted ceiling and dwarfs the camels and their stone wheels. The machine is operated by one man, who shovels the linseed pulp into a stone vat, climbs up nimbly to a dizzy height to fasten ropes, and then throws his weight on to a great beam made out of a tree trunk to set the ropes and pulleys in motion. Ancient girders girders creak and groan , ropes tighten and then a trickle of oil oozes oozes down a stone runnel into a used petrol can. Quickly the trickle becomes a flood of glistening linseed oil as the beam sinks earthwards, taut and protesting, its creaks blending with the squeaking and rumbling of the grinding-wheels and the occasional grunts and sighs of the camels. (from Advanced Comprehension and Appreciation pieces, 1962 ) NOTES 1) This piece is taken from Advanced Comprehension and Appreciation Pieces, compiled for overseas students by L. A. Hill and D.J. May, published by Oxford University Press, Hong Kong, 1962. 2) Middle East: generally referring to the area from Afghanistan to Egypt, including the Arabian Peninsula, Cyprus, and Asiatic Turkey. 3) Gothic: a style of architecture originated in N. France in 11th century, characterized by pointed arches, ribbed vaulting, steep, high roofs, etc. 4) veiled women: Some Moslems use the veil---more appropriately, the purdah --- to seclude or hide their women from the eyes of strangers. 5) caravanserai (caravansary): in the Middle East, a kind of inn with a large central court, where bands of merchants or pilgrims, together with their camels or horses, stay for shelter and refreshment Hiroshima -- the "Liveliest”City in Japan Jacques Danvoir “Hiroshima! Everybody off!” That must be what the man in the Japanese stationmaster's uniform shouted, as the fastest train in the world slipped to a stop in Hiroshima Station. I did not understand what he was saying. First of all, because he was shouting in Japanese. And secondly, because I had a lump in my throat and a lot of sad thoughts on my mind that had little to do with anything a Nippon railways official might say. The very act of stepping on this soil, in breathing this air of Hiroshima, was for me a far greater adventure than any trip or any reportorial assignment I'd previously taken. Was I not at the scene of the crime? 　　The Japanese crowd did not appear to have the same preoccupations that I had. From the sidewalk outside the station, things seemed much the same as in other Japanese cities. Little girls and elderly ladies in kimonos rubbed shoulders with teenagers and women in western dress. Serious looking men spoke to one another as if they were oblivious of the crowds about them, and bobbed up and down re-heatedly in little bows, as they exchanged the ritual formula of gratitude and respect: "Tomo aligato gozayimas." Others were using little red telephones that hung on the facades of grocery stores and tobacco shops. 　　"Hi! Hi!" said the cab driver, whose door popped open at the very sight of a traveler. "Hi", or something that sounds very much like it, means "yes". "Can you take me to City Hall?" He grinned at me in the rear-view mirror and repeated "Hi!" "Hi! ’ We set off at top speed through the narrow streets of Hiroshima. The tall buildings of the martyred city flashed by as we lurched from side to side in response to the driver's sharp twists of the wheel. 　　Just as I was beginning to find the ride long, the taxi screeched to a halt, and the driver got out and went over to a policeman to ask the way. As in Tokyo, taxi drivers in Hiroshima often know little of their city, but to avoid loss of face before foreigners, will not admit their ignorance, and will accept any destination without concern for how long it may take them to find it. 　　At last this intermezzo came to an end, and I found myself in front of the gigantic City Hall. The usher bowed deeply and heaved a long, almost musical sigh, when I showed him the invitation which the mayor had sent me in response to my request for an interview. "That is not here, sir," he said in English. "The mayor expects you tonight for dinner with other foreigners or, the restaurant boat. See? This is where it is.” He sketched a little map for me on the back of my invitation. 　　Thanks to his map, I was able to find a taxi driver who could take me straight to the canal embankment , where a sort of barge with a roof like one on a Japanese house was moored . The Japanese build their traditional houses on boats when land becomes too expensive. The rather arresting spectacle of little old Japan adrift adrift amid beige concrete skyscrapers is the very symbol of the incessant struggle between the kimono and the miniskirt. 　　At the door to the restaurant, a stunning, porcelain-faced woman in traditional costume asked me to remove my shoes. This done, I entered one of the low-ceilinged rooms of the little floating house, treading cautiously on the soft matting and experiencing a twingeof embarrassment at the prospect of meeting the mayor of Hiroshima in my socks. 　　He was a tall, thin man, sad-eyed and serious. Quite unexpectedly, the strange emotion which had overwhelmed me at the station returned, and I was again crushed by the thought that I now stood on the site of the first atomic bombardment, where thousands upon thousands of people had been slainin one second, where thousands upon thousands of others had lingered on to die in slow agony . 　　The introductions were made. Most of the guests were Japanese, and it was difficult for me to ask them just why we were gathered here. The few Americans and Germans seemed just as inhibitedas I was. "Gentlemen," said the mayor, "I am happy to welcome you to Hiroshima." 　　Everyone bowed, including the Westerners. After three days in Japan, the spinal column becomes extraordinarily flexible. 　　"Gentlemen, it is a very great honor to have you her e in Hiroshima." 　　There were fresh bows, and the faces grew more and more serious each time the name Hiroshima was repeated. "Hiroshima, as you know, is a city familiar to everyone,” continued the mayor. 　　"Yes, yes, of course,” murmured the company, more and more agitated. 　　"Seldom has a city gained such world renown, and I am proud and happy to welcome you to Hiroshima, a town known throughout the world for its--- oysters". 　　I was just about to make my little bow of assent, when the meaning of these last words sank in, jolting me out of my sad reverie . 　　"Hiroshima – oysters? What about the bomb and the misery and humanity's most heinous crime?" While the mayor went on with his speech in praise of southern Japanese sea food, I cautiously backed away and headed toward the far side of the room, where a few men were talking among themselves and paying little attention to the mayor's speech. "You look puzzled," said a small Japanese man with very large eye-glasses. 　　"Well, I must confess that I did not expect a speech about oysters here. I thought that Hiroshima still felt the impact of the atomic impact ." 　　"No one talks about it any more, and no one wants to, especially, the people who were born here or who lived through it. "Do you feel the same way, too?" 　　"I was here, but I was not in the center of town. I tell you this because I am almost an old man. There are two different schools of thought in this city of oysters, one that would like to preserve traces of the bomb, and the other that would like to get rid of everything, even the monument that was erected at the point of impact. They would also like to demolish the atomic museum." 　　"Why would they want to do that?" 　　"Because it hurts everybody, and because time marches on. That is why." The small Japanese man smiled, his eyes nearly closed behind their thick lenses. "If you write about this city, do not forget to say that it is the gayest city in Japan, even it many of the town's people still bear hidden wounds, and burns." 　　Like any other, the hospital smelled of formaldehyde and ethere . Stretchers and wheelchairs lined the walls of endless corridors, and nurses walked by carrying Stretchers instruments, the very sight of which would send shivers down the spine of any healthy visitor. The so-called atomic section was located on the third floor. It consisted of 17 beds. 　　"I am a fisherman by trade. I have been here a very long time, more than twenty years, "said an old man in Japanese pajamas. “What is wrong with you?” 　　"Something inside. I was in Hiroshima when it happened. I saw the fire ball. But I had no burns on my face or body. I ran all over the city looking for missing friends and relatives. I thought somehow I had been spared. But later my hair began to fall out, and my belly turned to water. I felt sick, and ever since then they have been testing and treating me. " The doctor at my side explained and commented upon the old man's story, "We still hare a handful of patients here who are being kept alive by constant car e. The other s died as a result of their injuries, or else committed suicide . " 　　"Why did they commit suicide?" 　　"It is humiliating to survive in this city. If you bear any visible scars of atomic burns, your children will encounter prejudice on the par t of those who do not. No one will marry the daughter or the niece of an atomic bomb victim. People are afraid of genetic damage from the radiation." The old fisherman gazed at me politely and with interest. 　　Hanging over the patient was a big ball made of bits of brightly colored paper, folded into the shape of tiny birds. "What's that?" I asked. 　　"Those are my lucky birds. Each day that I escape death, each day of suffering that helps to free me from earthly cares, I make a new little paper bird, and add it to the others. This way I look at them and congratulate myself of the good fortune that my illness has brought me. Because, thanks to it, I have the opportunity to improve my character." 　　Once again, outside in the open air, I tore into little pieces a small notebook with questions that I'd prepared in advance for inter views with the patients of the atomic ward. Among them was the question: Do you really think that Hiroshima is the liveliest city in Japan? I never asked it. But I could read the answer in every eye. (from an American radio program presented by Ed Kay) NOTES 1) Hiroshima: a seaport, capital of Hiroshima prefecture in southwest Japan. Population (1970) 54,834. On Aug. 6, 1945, Hiroshima was the first city to be struck by an atomic bomb, dropped by the U. S, air force. Almost 130 000 people were killed, injured, or missing, and 90% of the city was leveled. Much of the city has been reconstructed, but a gutted section of the city has been set aside as a "Peace City" to illustrate the effect of an atomic bomb. Since 1955, an annual world conference against nuclear weapons has met in Hiroshima. 2) Nippon: (Japanese) Japan 3) Tomo aligato gozayimas: (Japanese) Thank you very much. 4) Hi: (Japanese) yes 5) kimono: (Japanese) a loose robe with wide sleeves and a broad sash traditionally worn as an outer garment by the Japanese 6) tatami: (Japanese) straw matting used as a floor covering in a Japanese home. It is a custom of the Japanese to remove their shoes once they go indoors, walking on the tatami matting in their socks. Speech on Hitler's Invasion of the U.S.S.R. Winston S .Churchill When I awoke on the morning of Sunday, the 22nd, the news was brought to me of Hitler's invasion of Russia. This changed conviction into certainty. I had not the slightest doubt where our duty and our policy lay. Nor indeed what to say. There only remained the task of composing it. I asked that notice should immediately be given that I would broad-cast at 9 o' clock that night. Presently General Dill, who had hastened down from London, came into my bedroom with detailed news. The Germans had invaded Russia on an enormous front, had surprised a large portion of the Soviet Air Force grounded on the airfields, and seemed to be driving forward with great rapidity and violence. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff added, "I suppose they will be rounded up in hordes ." 　　I spent the day composing my statement. There was not time to consult the War Cabinet, nor was it necessary. I knew that we all felt the same on this issue. Mr. Eden, Lord Beaverbrook, and Sir Stafford Cripps – he had left Moscow on the 10th – were also with me during the day. 　　The following account of this Sunday at Chequers by my Private Secretary, Mr. Colville, who was on duty this weekend, may be of interest: 　　"On Saturday, June 21, I went down to Chequers just before dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Winant, Mr. and Mrs. Eden, and Edward Bridges were staying. During dinner Mr. Churchill said that a German attack on Russia was now certain, and he thought that Hitler was counting on enlisting capitalist and Right Wing sympathies in this country and the U. S. A. Hitler was, however, wrong and we should go all out to help Russia. Winant said the same would be true of the U. S. A. 　　After dinner, when I was walking on the croquetlawn with Mr. Churchill, he revertedto this theme, and I asked whether for him, the arch anti-Communist, this was not bowing down in the House of Rimmon. Mr. Churchill replied, "Not at all. I have only one purpose, the destruction of Hitler, and my life is much simplified thereby. It Hitler invaded Hell I would make at least a favourable reference to the Devil in the House of Commons. ' 　　I was awoken at 4 a. m. the following morning by a telephone message from the F. O. to the effect that Germany had attacked Russia. The P. M. had always said that he was never to be woken up for anything but Invasion (of England). I therefore postponed telling him till 8 am. His only comment was, 'Tell the B.B.C. I will broadcast at 9 to – night. 'He began to prepare the speech at 11a. m., and except for luncheon（= lunch）, at which Sir Stafford Cripps, Lord Cranborne, and Lord Beaverbrook were present, he devoted the whole day to it… The speech was only ready at twenty minutes to nine." 　　 In this broadcast I said: 　　"The Nazi regime is indistinguishable from the worst features of Communism. It is devoid of all theme and principle except appetite and racial domination. It excels all forms of human wickedness in the efficiency of its cruelty and ferocious aggression. No one has been a more consistent consistent opponent of Communism than I have for the last twenty - five years. I will unsay no word that I