美国语文4：我喜欢这样的自己

作者简介

埃德温·埃尔德曼（Edwin Alderman, 1861-1931），美国著名教育家、教育改革家。他曾担任弗吉尼亚大学校长长达25年之久，并在美国教育改革期间，为中小学生精编了这一套美国语文教材。 ？ ？ 因毕生致力于教育改革，是美国“进步时代”（Progressive Era）的标志性人物，埃德温·埃尔德曼去世的时候，美国总统胡佛发来悼词，表示遗憾。普策利奖得主杜马斯·马龙（Dumas Malone）曾为埃德温·埃尔德曼撰写传记。

内容简介

How Franklin Learned to Write Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a pretty collection of books, and who frequented our printing-house, took notice of me, invited me to his library, and very kindly lent me such books as I chose to read. I now took a fancy to poetry, and made some little pieces; my brother, thinking it might turn to account, encouraged me, and put me on composing occasional ballads. One was called The Lighthouse Tragedy, and contained an account of the drowning of Captain Worthilake, with his two daughters. The other was a sailor’s song, on the taking of Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretched stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when they were printed he sent me about the town to sell them. The first sold wonderfully, the event being recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and telling me verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, most probably a very bad one; but as prose writing had been of great use to me in the course of my life, and was a principal means of my advancement, I shall tell you how, in such a situation, I acquired what little ability I have in that way. About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. It was the third. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiment in each entence, laid them by a few days. Then, without looking at the book, I tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitable words that should come to hand. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in recollecting and using them. This I thought I should have acquired before that time if I had gone on making verses. In verse the continual occasion for words of the same value, but of different length, to suit the measure, or of different sound for the rhyme, would have laid me under a constant necessity of searching for variety. Verse would also have tended to fix variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales and turned them into verse. After a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, I turned them into prose again. I also sometimes jumbled my collections of hints into confusion, and after some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and complete the paper. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of thoughts. By comparing my work afterwards with the original, I discovered many faults and amended them; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, in certain particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to improve the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think I might possibly in time come to be a tolerable English writer. (Benjamin Franklin) 译文 富兰克林是怎么学写作的 马修·亚当先生家中藏书丰富，他经常光顾我们的印刷所，并且对我颇为关照。他邀请我去他的藏书室，还慷慨地将我想读的书借给我。那时候我十分喜爱诗歌，自己也写些小诗；我哥觉得写诗可以赚点钱，便鼓励我时不时地写些叙事诗。 我写了两首叙事诗。一首叫作《灯塔悲剧》，讲述的是沃斯莱克船长与他的两个女儿溺水身亡的故事。另一首是水手歌，讲的是捉拿海盗铁柯的经过。 这两首诗没什么水准，都是些葛拉布街诗（译注：葛拉布街是伦敦一条旧街，过去为穷苦潦倒文人的聚居地；因此文中将低劣的诗歌叫作“葛拉布街诗”）。印好之后，哥哥叫我拿到小镇上去卖。第一首诗卖得很好，毕竟讲的是近期发生的、轰动一时的事情。 这使我沾沾自喜，然而我的父亲反对我写诗，他嘲笑我的作品，说诗人都是穷光蛋。如此，我成为诗人（极可能是个低劣的诗人）的路便被切断了。但是，写散文却让我十分受益，并且成了我提升自己的一种基本手段，接下来我将告诉你，在这种情况下，我是如何获得我现有的这点小小才能的。 大约在那时候，我偶然看到了《旁观者》的零售本，是第三册，在此之前我从未看过这一系列的书。我把它买了下来，一遍又一遍地反复品味，爱不释手。这本书写得好极了，我想或许我也能模仿它写点什么。 于是我挑了几篇文章，摘录出要点，搁置几天后，再自己想出合适的词句将这些要点表述成文，与原版对照，找出自己的错误和不足，加以修改。 这样我便发现了自己词汇贫乏的问题，或者说，我不能很快地找到适当的词来用，我不禁想，假如我以前没有放弃写诗的话，那么现在我的词汇一定会丰富得多了。 如果我写诗的话，我得不断地寻找意思相同而长度不同的词，或是不同音素的词去凑韵脚，这会迫使我不断地搜索形式不同的同义词，这会有助于我记忆并掌握这些不同的词。 于是我选取了一些故事，改编成诗歌。过了一段时间，当我把原来的散文忘得差不多的时候，再把自己改编的诗歌改写成散文。 有时候我会把我摘录的思想打乱，几个星期以后，再设法把它们用最恰当的次序排列起来，然后再把它们写成完整的句子，凑成文章。这样做是为了学习如何组织思想。 完成这件事之后，再拿我的文章与原文比较，会发现许多错误和不足之处，我便加以改正。 但是有时候我不禁觉得：在某些小细节上，我侥幸地改进了原文的条理和语言，这样的想法鼓励了我，使我相信，在将来，我或许能成为一个不错的英文作家。 （富兰克林） A Second Trial It was commencement at one of our colleges. The people were pouring into the church as I entered it, rather tardy. Finding the choice seats in the center of the audience-room already taken, I pressed forward, looking to the right and to the left for a vacancy. On the very front row of seats I found one. Here a little girl moved along to make room for me, looking into my face with large gray eyes, whose brightness was softened by very long lashes. Her face was open and fresh as a newly blown rose before sunrise. Again and again I found my eyes turning to the rose-like face, and each time the gray eyes moved half-smiling to meet mine. Evidently the child was ready to “make up” with me. And when, with a bright smile she returned my dropped handkerchief, and I said “Thank you”. We seemed fairly introduced. Other persons now coming into the seat, crowded me quite close up against the little girl, so that we soon felt very well acquainted. “There’s going to be a great crowd,” she said to me. “Yes,” I replied. “People always like to see how schoolboys are made into men.” Her face beamed with pleasure and pride as she said, “My brother’s going to graduate; he’s going to speak; I’ve brought these flowers to throw to him.” They were not greenhouse favorites; just old-fashioned domestic flowers, such as we associate with the dear grandmother. “But,” I thought, “they will seem sweet and beautiful to him for little sister’s sake.” “That is my brother,” she went on, pointing with her nosegay. “The one with the light hair?” I asked. “Oh, no,” she said, smiling and shaking her head in innocent reproof, “not that homely one; that handsome one with brown wavy hair. His eyes look brown, too; but they are not-they are dark-blue. There! He’s got his hand up to his head now. You see him, don’t you?” In an eager way she looked from me to him, and from him to me, as if some important fate depended upon my recognizing her brother. “I see him,” I said. “He’s a very good-looking brother.” “Yes, he is beautiful,” she said, with artless delight. “And he’s so good, and he studies so hard. He has taken care of me ever since mamma died. Here is his name on the program. He is not the valedictorian, but he has an honor, for all that.” I saw in the little creature’s familiarity with these college terms that she had closely identified herself with her brother’s studies, hopes, and successes. “His oration is a good one, and he says it beautifully. He has said it to me a great many times. I almost know it by heart. Oh! It begins so pretty and so grand. This is the way it begins,” she added, encouraged by the interest she must have seen in my face.“Amid the permutations and combinations of the actors and the forces which make up the great kaleidoscope of history, we often find that a turn of Destiny’s hand——” “Why, bless the baby!” I thought, looking down into her bright proud face. I can’t describe how very odd and elfish it did seem to have those big words rolling out of the smiling childish mouth. As the exercises progressed, and approached nearer and nearer the effort on which all her interest was concentrated, my little friend became excited and restless. Her eyes grew larger and brighter, two deep-red spots glowed on her cheeks. “Now, it’s his turn,” she said, turning to me a face in which pride and delight and anxiety seemed about equally mingled. But when the overture was played through, and his name was called, the child seemed, in her eagerness, to forget me and all the earth beside him. She rose to her feet and leaned forward for a better view of her beloved, as he mounted to the speaker’s stand. I knew by her deep breathing that her heart was throbbing in her throat. I knew, too, by the way her brother came up the steps and to the front that he was trembling. The hands hung limp; his face was pallid, and the lips blue as with cold. I felt anxious. The child, too, seemed to discern that things were not well with him. Something like fear showed in her face. He made an automatic bow. Then a bewildered, struggling look came into his face, then a helpless look, and then he stood staring vacantly, like one in a dream, at the waiting audience. The moments of painful suspense went by, and still he stood as if struck dumb. I saw how it was; he had been seized with stage-fright. Alas! Little sister! She turned her large dismayed eyes upon me. “He’s forgotten it,” she said. Then a swift change came into her face; a strong determined look; and on the funeral-like silence of the room broke the sweet, brave child-voice, “Amid the permutations and combinations of the actors and the forces which make up the great kaleidoscope of history, we often find that a turn of Destiny’s hand——” Everybody about us turned and looked. The breathless silence; the sweet, childish voice; the childish face; the long, unchildlike words, produced a weird effect. But the help had come too late; the unhappy brother was already staggering in humiliation from the stage. The band quickly struck up, and waves of lively music rolled out to cover the defeat. I gave the little sister a glance in which I meant to show the intense sympathy I felt; but she did not see me. Her eyes swimming with tears, were on her brother’s face. I put my arm around her, but she was too absorbed to heed the caress, and before I could appreciate her purpose she was on her way to the shame-stricken young man sitting with a face like a statue’s. When he saw her by his side the set face relaxed, and a quick mist came into his eyes. The young men got closer together to make room for her. She sat down beside him, laid her flowers on his knee, and slipped her hand into his. I could not keep my eyes from her sweet pitying face. I saw her whisper to him, he bending a little to catch her words. Later, I found out that she was asking him if he knew his “piece” now, and that he answered “Yes”. When the young man next on the list had spoken, and while the band was playing, the child, to the brother’s great surprise, made her way up the stage steps, and pressed through the throng of professors and trustees and distinguished visitors, up to the college president. “If you please, sir,” she said with a little courtesy, “will you and the trustees let my brother try again? He knows his piece now.” For a moment the president stared at her through his gold-bowed spectacles, and then, appreciating the child’s petition, he smiled on her, and went down and spoke to the young man that had failed. So it happened that when the band had again ceased playing, it was briefly announced that Mr.——would now deliver his oration——“Historical Parallels”. A ripple of heightened and expectant interest passed over the audience, and then all sat stone still, as though fearing to breathe lest the speaker might again take fright. No danger. The hero in the youth was aroused. He went at his “piece” with a set purpose to conquer, to redeem himself, and to bring the smile back into the child’s tear-stained face. I watched the face during the speaking. The wide eyes, the parted lips, the whole rapt being said that the breathless audience was forgotten, that her spirit was moving with his. And when the address was ended with the ardent abandon of one who catches enthusiasm in the realization that he is fighting down a wrong judgment and conquering a sympathy, the effect was really thrilling. That dignified audience broke into rapturous applause; bouquets intended for the valedictorian rained like a tempest. And the child, the child that had helped to save the day——that one beaming little face, in its pride and gladness, is something to be forever remembered. (Sarah Winter Kellogg) 再试一次的机会 我们的一个学院正要举行毕业典礼。人们像潮水一样涌入教堂。我到的时候，发现观众席中央的位置已经坐满了人，于是不得不继续向前挤。我左右张望着，想找一个空位，最后在前排座位中找到了一个。 一个小女孩挪了一下，给我让出行走的空间。她灰色的大眼睛凝视着我的脸，长长的睫毛让她明亮的双眼显得十分柔和。她脸上的神情坦诚而充满活力，就像日出前刚刚绽放的玫瑰。我的眼睛一次又一次瞥向这玫瑰般的脸蛋，而她的灰眼睛也总会浅笑着迎上我的视线。显然，这个孩子已经准备好要和我认识一下了。然后，当她带着明亮的笑容把我掉落的手帕还给我时，我说了一声“谢谢”。于是，我们似乎已经成了熟人了。 现在其他人也开始落座，我和这个小女孩不得不挤在一起，所以我们不久就感觉非常熟悉了。 她对我说：“好多人，真是太挤了。” “是的。”我赞同地回答，“大家都愿意看着男孩子长成大人。” 她的脸上出现高兴和自豪的表情，说：“我哥哥就要毕业了，他会发表演讲。我买了这些花，准备抛给他。” 这些花不是花房最喜欢种的那种，只是传统的家庭用花，就像我们送给亲爱的祖母的那种花。“不过，因为小女孩，他一定会觉得这些花又美丽又芬芳。”我心里想。 她用花束指着方向，继续说：“那是我哥哥。” 我问：“是那个浅色头发的吗？” “哦，不是。”她微笑着回答，天真无邪地摇头责备着，“不是那个，那个人不好看。我哥哥是那个棕色卷发的帅气小伙。看起来他的眼睛也是棕色的，但其实是深蓝色的。看，他就在那儿！现在他正举着两只手呢。你看见他了吧？” 她热切地在我和他之间转换视线，仿佛我认出他的哥哥这件事和什么至关重要的命运有关似的。 “我看见他了。”我说，“真是一表人才啊。” “当然，他很帅。而且他很棒，学习很刻苦。自从妈妈去世后，都是他照顾我。流程表上有他的名字，就在这儿。他不是毕业生代表，但是因为他的表现，他获得了在毕业典礼上演讲的荣誉。”她说话时带着那种单纯的快乐。 我看出来这个小女孩很熟悉这些学校里面的词儿，她佩服哥哥的成绩，认同哥哥的希望，看到哥哥成功了，就好像自己获得了成功一样。 “他的演说词很棒，而且他讲得很好。他已经对我说过很多次了。我几乎都记住了。哦！他的开场白真是落落大方。那番话是这么说的——”她一定看到了我脸上浓厚的兴趣，鼓起勇气补充说：“‘瞬息万变的历史力量和人才辈出的英雄人物不断更替，造就了历史。在其中，我们经常会发现命运之手的翻覆——’” “哎，上帝会保佑这孩子！”我想，低头看着她明亮自豪的脸蛋。她带着笑容和稚气，滔滔不绝地讲出那些深奥的词，我无法描述这种古灵精怪的感觉。 随着典礼的进行，演说时间越来越近了。我的这位小小的朋友变得兴奋又焦急，她的注意力都集中起来了，眼睛睁得更大，眼神更亮，脸颊上出现两片深深的红晕。 “现在轮到他了。”她转过身对我说，脸上带着一种自豪、高兴又担忧的表情。但是当序曲响起，台上点到了他的名字，这个热切的孩子忘记了我和她周围的世界。在他登上舞台走向演说台时，她站起来向前探着身体，想把他看得更清楚些。 听着她深深地呼吸，我知道她的心快要跳出来了；看着她哥哥走上舞台、走到前方的样子，我知道她也正紧张得发抖。他艰难地抬起手，脸色苍白，嘴唇发紫，像受了寒似的。我很担忧，小女孩也非常担心。她似乎看出来他有些不对劲，脸上出现了焦虑的表情。 他机械地鞠了一躬，表情显得既困惑又挣扎，接下来是无助。最后，他像做梦一样茫然地盯着等待的观众。难挨的最初几秒钟过去了，他仍然哑口无言地站着。我看出了事情的真相：对舞台的恐惧把他击垮了。 唉！他的小妹妹惊慌地转头看着我，说：“他忘记演说词了。”接着她脸上的神情突然迅速改变了，显出一种坚定的决心。然后，她那甜美而勇敢的童音打破了空气中死一般的沉寂：“瞬息万变的历史力量和人才辈出的英雄人物不断更替，造就了历史。在其中，我们经常会发现命运之手的翻覆——” 每个人都转身四下寻找我们。令人窒息的沉默，甜美的童音，幼稚的面孔，一段长长的、不带孩子气的说辞，这些因素加在一起，造成了一种怪诞的效果。 可惜这帮助来得太迟了。悲惨的哥哥已经带着耻辱蹒跚地从舞台上走了下去。乐队很快开始演奏，轻快的乐浪倾泻而出，掩盖了这次失败。 我看了小女孩一眼，想要用眼神表达我强烈的同情，但她没看见，她流着泪，盯着她哥哥的脸。我伸出手臂环住她，但她太专心，根本没留意我的拥抱。我还没来得及赞赏她坚强的意志，她就走向了那个如雕像一样面无表情地坐在那里、深感羞辱的年轻人。 看见她在身边，他的面部表情放松了，但眼睛里很快蒙上一层水雾。坐在那儿的年轻人们相互挤在一起，为她挪了个地方。她在哥哥旁边坐下来，把花束放在他的膝盖上，把手放在他手里。 ★常春藤版美国语文，经典著作 美国著名教育学家主编，符合儿童身心发展规律，让每个年龄阶段的孩子都会感兴趣。 ★适合青少年的名作？，优美易读 汇聚诸多重量级文学大家笔下专为青少年阅读创作的作品，并依据孩子心理成长特点分阶段编排，优美、易读。 ★学习性阅读的经典，生动有趣？ ？ ？ 夯实基础：深入浅出，重点夯实孩子的英文基础知识。 题型丰富：设计了多样化的练习题，确保孩子掌握更全面的知识。 拓展知识：趣味拓展阅读，全面培养孩子的语文素养。 ★中英对照，精选上百篇名家名篇 ★内附美国名校名录，精美原版插图