作者：聂成军,包佳元
出版社：中国人民大学出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
常春藤英语 六级·下(常春藤英语系列)试读：
前言
要读就读经典！本册书的特点是“读经典，品名著”！
本册是按照《普通高中英语课程标准》六级要求编写的，适合高一年级学生阅读。
本册作者精心收录了欧美著名文学大师的作品，其中有大家耳熟能详的欧· 亨利的“The Cop and the Anthem”（《警察与赞美诗》），安徒生的“The Little Match Girl”（《卖火柴的小女孩》）和“The Emperor’s New Clothes”（《皇帝的新装》）等，还收录了美国著名民权运动领袖马丁· 路德· 金的“I Have a Dream”（《我有一个梦》），该演说表达了演说者对民主、自由、平等的诉求。
另外，本书还收录了美国、英国、加拿大和澳大利亚等国家高中生必读书目和经典名著，相信读者一定会从中受益匪浅。
本书突出了实用的特点。为了帮助读者轻松阅读，本书还对重点词汇进行释义，对故事主干进行阅读理解的提示，还通过问题形式促进读者写作水平的提高。
总之，本书收录的文章形式多样，有能够带来令人心灵震撼的故事，有令人毛骨悚然的小说，有描写男女恋情的小故事，有幽默诙谐的笑料，还有科学严谨的科普小读物。我相信，读者通过阅读本书选取的经典名著定能与作者产生共鸣，对人生充满深刻感悟。更重要的是，读者一定能得到使其受益终生的快乐阅读的体验！
由于时间仓促以及编者水平有限，本书可能存在这样或那样的错误和不足，请读者批评指正。
为方便教师教学和学生阅读，本书精选11 篇适合诵读的经典文章提供录音，读者可登录中国人民大学出版社外语分社网站www.crup.com.cn/wy 进行下载。
此外，为给学生提供更多的学习方便，本书还特别申请了答疑邮箱，读者可以通过以下邮箱与主编取得联系并提出疑问：cctyyz@126.com, cctyy 6 2@126.com,chengzsh@crup.com.cn。包佳元2014 年5 月于人大附中Lesson 1The Wallet of Love
It was a freezing day a few years ago when I came across a wallet in the street.There was no personal identification inside. Just three dollars, and a crumpled[1] letter that looked as if it had been carried around for years.
The only thing recognizable on the torn envelope was the return address. I opened the letter and saw that it had been written in 1924—almost 60 years ago. I read it carefully, hoping to find some clue to the identity of the wallet’s owner.
It was a “Dear John” letter. The writer, in a delicate script, told the recipient,whose name was Michael, that her mother forbade her to see him again. Nevertheless,she would always love him. It was signed Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter. But there was no way, except for the name Michael, to identify the owner. Perhaps if I called information the operator could find the phone number for the address shown on the envelope.
“Operator, this is an unusual request. I’m trying to find the owner of a wallet I found. Is there any way you could tell me the phone number for an address that was on a letter in the wallet?”
The operator gave me her supervisor[2], who said there was a phone listed at the address, but that she could not give me the number. However, she would call and explain the situation. Then, if the party wanted to talk, she would connect me. I waited a minute and she came back on the line. “I have a woman who will speak with you.”
I asked the woman if she knew a Hannah.
“Oh, of course! We bought this house from Hannah’s family thirty years ago.”
“Would you know where they could be located now?” I asked.
“Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home years ago. Maybe the home could help you to search for the daughter.”
The woman gave me the name of the nursing home. I called and found out that Hannah’s mother had died. The woman I spoke with gave me an address where she thought Hannah could be reached.
I phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home. She gave me the number. I called and was told, “Yes, Hannah is with us.”
I asked if I could stop by to see her. It was almost 10 p.m. The director said Hannah might be asleep. “But if you want to take a chance, maybe she’s in the day room watching television.”
The director and a guard greeted me at the door of the nursing home. We went up to the third floor and saw the nurse, who told us that Hannah was indeed watching TV.
We entered the day room. Hannah was a sweet, silver-haired old woman with a warm smile and friendly eyes. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The moment she saw it, she took a deep breath. “Young man,” she said, “this letter was the last contact I had with Michael.” She looked away for a moment, then said deep in thought, “I loved him very much. But I was only sixteen and my mother felt I was too young. He was so handsome. You know, like Sean Connery, the actor of 007.”
We both laughed. The director then left us alone. “Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If you find him, tell him I still think of him often. I never did marry,” she said,smiling through tears that welled up[3] in her eyes. “I guess no one ever matched up to Michael…”
I thanked Hannah, said goodby and took the elevator[4] to the first floor. As I stood at the door, the guard asked, “Was the old lady able to help you?”
I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name. But I probably won’t pursue it further for a while.” I explained that I had spent almost the whole day trying to find the wallet’s owner.
While we talked, I pulled out the brown-leather case with its red-lanyard[5] lacing and showed it to the guard. He looked at it closely and said, “Hey, I’d know that anywhere. That’s Mr. Goldstein’s. He’s always losing it. I found it in the hall at least three times.”
“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked. “He’s one of the old-timers[6] on the eighth floor.That’s Mike Goldstein’s wallet, for sure. He goes out for a walk quite often.”
I thanked the guard and ran back to the director’s office to tell him what the guard had said. He accompanied[7] me to the eighth floor. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would stay up.
“I think he’s still in the day room,” the nurse said. “He likes to read at night…a darling old man.”
We went to the only room that had lights on, and there was a man reading a book.The director asked him if he had lost his wallet. Michael Goldstein looked up, felt his back pocket and then said, “Goodness, it is missing.”
“This kind gentleman found a wallet. Could it be yours?”
The second he saw it, he smiled with relief. “Yes,” he said, “that’s it. Must have dropped it this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”
“Oh, no thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”
The smile on his face disappeared. “You read that letter?”
“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”
He grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was?”
I hesitated.
“Please tell me!” Michael urged[8].
“She’s fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her.”
“Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.”
He grabbed[9] my hand and said, “You know something? When that letter came,my life ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.”
“Michael,” I said. “Come with me.” The three of us took the elevator to the third floor. We walked toward the day room where Hannah was sitting, still watching TV.The director went over to her.
“Hannah,” he said softly. “Do you know this man?” Michael and I stood waiting in the doorway.
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word.
“Hannah, it’s Michael. Michael Goldstein. Do you remember?”
“Michael? Michael? It’s you!”
He walked slowly to her side. She stood and they embraced each other. Then the two of them sat on a couch, held hands and started to talk. The director and I walked out, both of us crying.
“See how the good Lord works,” I said philosophically[10]. “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” Three weeks later, I got a call from the director who asked, “Can you spare some time on Sunday to attend a wedding?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Yup,Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”
It was a lovely wedding, with all the people at the nursing home joining in the celebration. Hannah wore a beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. The home gave them their own room, and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 78-year old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.(1,322 words)
Exercises
Ⅰ. How well did you read?
1. It can be inferred that this article was written___________ .
A. in 1924 B. sixty years ago C. in the early 1980s
2. From the third paragraph, we know Michael lost the chance to be engaged to Hannah because___________ .
A. his family was too poor to buy things for her
B. her mother didn’t allow her to meet him again
C. she had another young man to be engaged to
3. How old was the woman when she saw the “Dear John” letter again?
A. She was 76 years old in a nursing home.
B. She was 78 years old in a nursing home.
C. She was nearly 86 years old in a nursing home.
4. Why did the director declined the writer to see Hannah?
A. Because he thought the writer might be a stranger to Hannah.
B. Because Hannah did not want to see him in person.
C. Because he thought Hannah might rest in the nursing home.
5. Why did the director and the writer cry when the old-timers met again?
A. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time.
B. The director and the writer became good friends.
C. Actually they were moved to tears.
6. Without the writer’s sincere and earnest help, Michael and Hannah two oldtimers___________ .
A. could not have met again and tied the knot
B. might have met again in marriage
C. ought to have met again and tied the knot
7. What was the most philosophical expression in the passage according to the passage?
A. If it’s meant to be, it will be.
B. Where there is a way, there is a will.
C. Perseverance works if one keeps to it.
8. The writer of the passage might feel happy because___________ .
A. his efforts paid off
B. he helped the old women find the old gentleman
C. the devoted lovers finally got married Ⅱ. Read for words.
(1) It was a “Dear John” letter. The writer, in a delicate script, told the recipient,whose name was Michael, that her mother forbade her to see him again.Nevertheless, she would always love him. It was signed Hannah. (Para. 3, Line 1)
A. 致约翰的信 B. 女给男的绝交信 C. 给约翰的邀请信
(2) I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name. But I probably won’t pursue it further for a while.” I explained that I had spent almost the whole day trying to find the wallet’s owner. (Para. 18, Line 1)
A. 主唱 B. 引领 C. 提示
(3) The second he saw it, he smiled with relief. “Yes,” he said, “that’s it. Must have dropped it this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.” (Para. 26, Line 1)
A. 如释重负 B. 减轻痛苦 C. 安慰地
(4) Three weeks later, I got a call from the director who asked, “Can you spare some time on Sunday to attend a wedding?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Yup,Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!” (Para. 41, Line 4)
A. 打结 B. 联结 C. 喜结良缘
(5) It was a freezing day a few years ago when I came across a wallet in the street.
There was no personal identification inside. Just three dollars, and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been carried around for years. (Para. 1, Line 1)
A. came over B. met by chance C. knocked down
(6) It was a “Dear John” letter. The writer, in a delicate script, told the recipient,whose name was Michael, that her mother forbade her to see him again.Nevertheless, she would always love him. It was signed Hannah. (Para. 3,Line 1)
A. receiver B. deliverer C. addresser
(7) “Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If you find him, tell him I still think of him often. I never did marry,” she said, smiling through tears that welled up in her eyes. “I guess no one ever matched up to Michael…” (Para. 16, Line 3)
A. were fine with B. flowed up C. jumped out
(8) He walked slowly to her side. She stood and they embraced each other. Then the two of them sat on a couch, held hands and started to talk. The director and I walked out, both of us crying. (Para. 40, Line 1)
A. exchange embraces
B. covered or surrounded
C. hugged
Language BoxLesson 2A Promise of Spring
Early in the spring, about a month before my grandpa’s stroke[1], I began walking for an hour every afternoon. Some days I would walk four blocks south to see Grandma and Grandpa. At eighty-six, Grandpa was still quite a gardener, so I always watched for his earliest blooms and each new wave of spring flowers.
I was especially interested in flowers that year because I was planning to landscape my own yard and I was anxious to get Grandpa’s advice. I thought I knew pretty much what I wanted—a yard full of bushes and plants that would bloom from May till November.
It was right after the first rush of purple violets in the lawns and the sudden bright color of forsythia that spring that Grandpa had a stroke. It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side. The whole family was called together to Grandpa.We all spent many hours by his side. Some days his eyes were eloquent—laughing at our reported mishaps[2], listening alertly, showing painful awareness of his inability to care for himself. There were days, too, when he slept most of the time, overcome with the weight of his nearing death.
As the months passed, I watched the growing earth with Grandpa’s eyes. Each time I was with him, I gave him a garden report. He listened, seizing my hand with the sure strength and calm he had always had. But he could not answer my questions. The new flowers would blaze, peak, fade, and die before I knew their names.
Grandpa’s illness held him through the spring and on, week by week, through summer. I began spending hours at the local nursery, studying and choosing seeds and plants. It gave me special joy to buy plants I had seen in Grandpa’s garden and give them humble starts in my own garden. I discovered Sweet William, which I had admired for years in Grandpa’s garden without knowing its name. And I planted it in his honor.
As I waited and watched in the garden and by Grandpa’s side, some quiet truths appeared. I realized that Grandpa loved flowers that always bloomed[3]; he kept a full bed of roses in his garden. But I noticed that Grandpa left plenty of room for the brief highlights. Not every corner of his garden was constantly in bloom. There was always a treasured surprise tucked somewhere.
I came to see, too, that Grandpa’s garden mirrored[4] his life. He was a hard worker who understood the law of the harvest. But along with his hard work, Grandpa knew how to enjoy each season, each change. We often teased him about his life history.He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty years of work, and a full nine pages about every trip and vacation he’d ever taken.
In July, Grandpa worsened. One hot afternoon arrived when no one else was at his bedside. He was glad to have me there, and reached out his hand to pull me close.
I told Grandpa what I had learned—that few flowers last from April to November.Some of the most beautiful are in bloom for only a month at most. To really enjoy a garden, you have to plant corners and drifts and rows of flowers that will bloom and grace the garden, each in its own season.
His eyes listened to every word. Then, another discovery: “If I want a garden like yours, Grandpa, I’m going to have to work.” His grin[5] laughed at me, and his eyes teased me.
“Grandpa, in your life right now the chrysanthemums[6] are in bloom. Chrysanthemums and roses.” Tears clouded both our eyes. Neither of us feared this last flower of fall, but the wait for spring seems longest in November. We knew how much we would miss each other.
Sitting there, I suddenly felt that the best gift I could give Grandpa would be to give voice to the testimony[7] inside both of us. He had never spoken of his testimony to me, but it was such a part of his life that I had never questioned if Grandpa knew. I knew he knew.
“Grandpa,” I began—and he held me tight as if he knew what I was going to say— “I want you to know that I have a testimony. I know the Savior lives. I bear witness to you that Joseph Smith is a prophet[8]. I love the Restoration and joy in it.”The steadiness in Grandpa’s eyes told how much he felt it too. “I bear witness that President Kimball is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true, Grandpa. Every part of me bears this witness.”
“Grandpa,” I added quietly, “I know our Father in Heaven loves you.” Unbidden,unexpected, the Spirit bore comforting, poignant testimony to me of our Father’s love for my humble, quiet Grandpa.
A tangible sense of Heavenly Father’s compassionate awareness of Grandpa’s suffering surrounded us and held us. It was so personal and powerful that no words were left to me—only tears of gratitude and humility, tears of comfort.
Grandpa and I cried together.
It was the end of August when Grandpa died, the end of summer. As we were choosing flowers from the florist for Grandpa’s funeral, I slipped away to Grandpa’s garden and walked with my memories of columbine[9] and Sweet William. Only the tall lavender and white phlox were in bloom now, and some baby’s breath in another corner.
On impulse[10], I cut the prettiest strands of phlox and baby’s breath and made one more arrangement for the funeral. When they saw it, friends and family all smiled to see Grandpa’s flowers there. We all felt how much Grandpa would have liked that.
The October after Grandpa’s death, I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs, snowdrops,crocuses, and bluebells. Each bulb was a comfort to me, a love sent to Grandpa, a promise of spring.(1,013 words)
Exercises
Ⅰ. How well did you read?
1. From the passage, we may know that Grandpa was a veteran in ___________.
A. teaching B. gardening C. engineering
2. What happened to Grandpa after he had a stroke?
A. It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side.
B. He couldn’t look after himself because of the bad stroke.
C. He was optimistic about his future life even in bed.
3. The writer mentioned four stages of new flowers before he could name them.
What are they?
A. The new flowers would peak, blaze, fade and die.
B. The new flowers would blaze, fade, peak and die.
C. The new flowers would blaze, peak, fade and die.
4. From the sentence in the seventh paragraph, “He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty years of work,” we know that___________ .
A. the writer’s grandpa had little education
B. grandpa did more and said less
C. the writer’s grandpa was very lazy
5. How long did Grandpa manage to survive after he had a stroke?
A. About 3 months, from early spring to May.
B. About 6 months, from early spring to the end of August.
C. About 9 months, from early spring to the end of November.
试读结束[说明：试读内容隐藏了图片]