It was eleven years before I returned to England. It was an evening in December, an hour or so after dark, when I quietly pushed open the kitchen door of the house on the marshes (沼泽). There, smoking his pipe by the fire, was Joe, only a little gray. And opposite him, sitting on my own old little stool, was--- a little Pip.
Joe jumped up to welcome me back and kept touching me to make sure it was really me. But the little boy hung back. Biddy rushed in, crying, and kissed me.
After a few days, young Pip--- for he had been named after me--- and I became friends. We went for walks on the marshes, and I showed him my family's tombstones. To understand his thoughts and feelings, I had only to remember my own at his age in this place. By the time I left, Pip was as attached to me as I had been to Joe when I was young. He stood by the forge and waved and waved until I was out of sight.
Thoughts of Estella came rushing to me. Before leaving for London, I decided to visit the site of Miss Havisham's house. Nothing of the burned-out house remained; only the garden was there, pushing wildly into the space once occupied by the house. I went through the old gate, no longer locked, and sat on a stone bench. Thoughts of Estella came rushing to me. I had heard that her life with Bentley Drummle had been most unhappy, unhappy enough to cause her to leave him. And I had heard that he had been killed in a riding accident soon after. But that had been two years ago, and perhaps she had since remarried. I wandered farther back in the garden, which looked stripped and like desert in the winter air. The figure of a woman stood pitifully in the moonlight, and, hearing my footsteps, she turned. We recognized one another at the same time.
1. Who do you think young Pip might be at the beginning?A.The author's son. | B.Joe's grandson. |
C.The hotel owner's son. | D.The author's friend. |
A.He shared his feelings and ideas when he was young. |
B.He accepted him as a member of his family. |
C.He went out for a walk with him every day. |
D.He had the same name with him. |
A.The sad experience of Estella. | B.The memories about the house. |
C.The nostalgic thoughts of Estella. | D.His past life with Miss Havisham. |
A.He got home with his son. | B.He kept well informed of Estella. |
C.He came back home every few years. | D.He regretted not meeting Estella earlier. |
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【推荐1】When discovering her grandma Georgie’s clothing sketches (草图) in 2021, Julia, a 27-year-old TikToker, barely knew how to sew clothes. Nonetheless, she decided to take it upon herself to make Grandma’s old designer dreams come alive. And it’s not surprising at all, then, that when Julia shared her hard work with her absolutely delighted Grandma, and later her followers — more than 21 million viewers tuned in to see what the most adorable version of Paris Fashion Week looks like. Oh, and what a sight it is.
When Julia first came across her grandma’s fashion design sketches that were almost three times as old as she is, she was attracted by them. So were her unexpected TikTok viewers, 2.7 million of them, who shared Julia’s appreciation of these drawings, leading to her first viral video. “I knew grandma was talented, but I was like, ‘Wow, these are really much better than what I was envisioning (想象) in my head’,” she told Insider.
Using material leftover from her grandmother’s collection of outdated fabrics, Julia has sewn many of the dresses Georgie envisioned. She notes that she doesn’t always follow her “grandma sketch”, as what looks good on paper might not translate onto the body. “Grandma encourages that,” Julia explains.
This ongoing interdenominational collaboration (合作) has led to an extremely popular TikTok series in which Julia shows Georgie what she’s created. It’s also sparked sweet conversations between the two of them, which are shared on video. “It’s a beautiful bonding experience between us that has made Grandma happy,” she said.
“Lots of people who are older and watch my videos say they love seeing someone younger appreciate something from their generation,” she said. “And then younger people see it and maybe they lost their grandparents, and they say seeing my videos reminds them of their grandparents,” said Julia.
1. What’s Julia’s way of sewing a dress?A.She strictly follows her grandma’s sketches. |
B.She makes adjustments to her grandma’s designs. |
C.She makes it out of her own imagination. |
D.She makes it based on the latest style. |
A.To become a fashion designer. | B.To set up a fashion school. |
C.To create a popular TikTok series. | D.To attend Paris Fashion Week. |
A.Imaginative and humorous. | B.Independent and outgoing |
C.Innovative and persistent. | D.Generous and collaborative. |
A.It bonds different generations. |
B.It follows the latest fashion style. |
C.It encourages people to make improvements. |
D.It reminds its viewers of their duties. |
【推荐2】My name is Sara. When I was little, I played the drums. I also had a guitar. In fourth grade, I started playing the trombone (长号). I practiced about four hours a week. All of this might not seem like a big deal for a lot of kids, but there’s something about me that makes me a bit different from others. I was born without hands. Since I was about one year old, I’ve worn prosthetics (假手).
This year, I got an invitation to join the high school marching band (行进管乐队). I told my mom I wanted to do it. But I had an instructor who thought I would not be able to march in the band—not because it was a high school band and I’m only in seventh grade, but probably because my body is different. All I wanted was to show that I could do it, so I joined the band. And it paid off!
Music gives me energy. That happens sometimes. One time I was so down, I didn’t even want to get out of bed. Then I hit my mp3 player by accident. A song came on, and I got up and started dancing. It helped me say to myself, “OK, I can get through today.”
Around my musician friends, we all share the same problems, like working out how many beats there are to a measure. I have a hard time counting the beats, but so do a lot of the other kids. It’s a normal problem that we musicians share. When I’m with the band, I don’t feel as different as I do in other situations. It’s just another way that music makes me want to go on, and not to just sit down by myself and not care about life.
1. In what way is Sara different from other kids?A.There’s something wrong with her body. |
B.She knows how to play many instruments. |
C.She learned to play the drums at a very early age. |
D.She kept playing the trombone for the longest hours. |
A.said no at first | B.had no idea what to do |
C.followed the instructor’s advice | D.believed that she would make it |
A.Bored. | B.Relaxed. | C.Successful. | D.Afraid. |
A.A high school band | B.A young drummer |
C.The music of me | D.My magic hands |
When Dr. Gibbs wasn’t saving lives, he was planting trees. His house sat on ten acres, and his life’s goal was to make it a forest.
The good doctor had some interesting theories concerning plant care and growth. He never watered his new trees, which flew in the face of conventional wisdom. Once I asked why. He said that watering plants spoiled them so that each successive tree generation would grow weaker and weaker. So you have to make things rough for them and weed out (淘汰) the weaker trees early on. He talked about how watering trees made for shallow roots, and how trees that weren’t watered had to grow deep roots in search of moisture. I took him to mean that deep roots were to be treasured.
So he never watered his trees. He planted an oak and, instead of watering it every morning, he beat it with a rolled-up newspaper. Smack! Slap! Pow! I asked him why he did that, and he said it was to get the tree’s attention.
Dr. Gibbs passed away a couple of years after I left home. Every now and again, I walked by his house and looked at the trees that I’d watched him plant some twenty-five years ago. They’re extremely tall, big and robust since they have deep roots now. However, the trees in my garden trembled in a cold wind although I had watered them for several years.
It seems that adversity (逆境) and suffering benefit these trees in ways comfort and ease never could. I stood there deep in thought.
Every night before I go to bed, I check on my two sons. I stand over them and watch their little bodies, the rising and falling of life within. I often pray for them. Mostly I pray that their lives will be easy. But I think that it’s time to change my prayer (祷词) because now I know my children are going to encounter hardship.
1. According to Dr. Gibbs’ theories, trees will become weaker if they _________.
A.are lack of care | B.are watered | C.are weeded out | D.are beaten |
A.“Seeing is believing” | B.“Put everything in proper use” |
C.“Practice makes perfect” | D.“No pain, no gain” |
A.strong | B.strange | C.deep | D.old |
A.I wish them strong wings, with which they can fly higher and touch the sky. |
B.I wish them nice fortune so that they can meet people like Dr. Gibbs in the future. |
C.I wish them deep roots into the earth since the rains fall and the winds blow often. |
D.I wish them great shades under the tree since the sunlight is always sharp and bitter. |
A Nice Doctor
A.The Deep Roots | B.Adversity and Suffering | C.My Childhood Memory |
【推荐1】There were smiling children all the way. Clearly they knew at what time the train passed their homes and they made it their business to stand along the railway, wave to complete strangers and cheer them up as they rushed towards Penang. Often whole families stood outside their homes and waved and smiled as if those on the trains were their favorite relatives. These are the simple village people of Malaysia. I was moved.
I had always traveled to Malaysia by plane or car, so this was the first time I was on a train. I did not particularly (特别) relish the long train journey and had bought along a dozen magazines to read and reread. I looked about the train. There was not one familiar (熟悉的) face. I sighed and sat down to read my Economics.
It was not long before the train was across the Causeway and in Malaysia. Johor Bahru was just another city like Singapore, so I was tired of looking at the crowds of people as they hurried past. As we went beyond the city, I watched the straight rows of rubber trees and miles and miles of green. Then the first village came into sight. Immediately I came alive; I decided to wave back.
From then on my journey became interesting. I threw my magazines into the waste basket and decided to join in Malaysian life. Then everything came alive. The mountains seemed to speak to me. Even the trees were smiling. I stared at everything as if I was looking at it for the first time.
The day passed fast and I even forgot to have my lunch until I felt hungry. I looked at my watch and was surprised that it was 3: 00 pm. Soon the train pulled up at Butterworth. I looked at the people all around me. They all looked beautiful. When my uncle arrived with a smile, I threw my arms around him to give him a warm hug. I had never done this before. He seemed surprised and then his weather-beaten face warmed up with a huge smile. We walked arm in arm to his car.
I looked forward to the return journey.
1. Why did the author mention the families standing outside their homes?A.To show the real life of village people. |
B.To show the friendliness of village people. |
C.To show how village people found pleasure. |
D.To show how village people warmed their relatives. |
A.Choose. | B.Enjoy. | C.Prepare for. | D.Carry on. |
A.Excited. | B.Unsatisfied. | C.Disappointed. | D.Bored. |
A.My exciting journey to Malaysia |
B.Scenery adding pleasure to my train trip |
C.My unforgettable train trip in Butterworth |
D.Waves and smiles cheering up my train trip |
Yet some of my best times were driving home, leaving the city behind and slipping back into the valley. As city life disappeared and traffic thinned, I could see the faces of the other drivers relax. Then, around a bend in the highway, the grassland of the valley would come into being, offering a view of gentle rolling hills. The land seemed permanent. I felt as if I had stepped back in time.
I took comfort in the stability of the valley. Driving through small farm communities, I imagined the founding families still rooted in their grand homes, generations working the same lands, neighbors remaining neighbors for generations. I allowed familiar farmhouse landmarks to guide me.
Close to home, I often turned off the main highway and took a different, getting familiar farms again and testing my memory. Friends lived in those houses. I had eaten meals and spent time there; I had worked on some of these farms, lending a hand during a peak harvest, helping a family friend for a day or two. The houses and lands looked the same, and I could picture the gentle faces and hear familiar voices as if little had been changed. As I eased into our driveway I’d returned to old ways, becoming a son once again, a child on the family farm. My feelings were honest and real. How I longed for a land where life stood still and my memories could be relived. When I left the farm for college, I could only return as visitor to the valley, a traveler looking for home.
Now the farm is once again my true home. I live in that farmhouse and work the permanent lands. My world may seem unchanged to casual observers, but they are wrong. I know this: if there’s a constant on these farms, it’s the constant of change.
The good observer will recognize the differences. A farmer replants an orchard (果园) with a new variety of peaches. Irrigation is added to block of old grapes, so I imagine the vineyard has a new owner. Occasionally the changes are clearly evident, like a FOR SALE sign. But I need to read the small print in order to make sure that a bank has taken possession of the farm. Most of the changes contain two stories. One is the physical change of the farm, the other involves the people on that land, the human story behind the change.
I’ve been back on the farm for a decade and still haven’t heard all the stories behind the changes around me. But once I add my stories to the landscape, I can call this place my home, a home that continues to evolve and changes as I add more and more of my stories.
A poet returns to the valley and says, “Little has changed in the valley, and how closed–minded you all are!” He comments about the lack of interest in sports, social and environmental issues in the poverty and inequality of our life. He was born and raised here, so he might have the right to criticize and lecture us. Yet he speaks for many who think they know the valley. How differently would others think of us if they knew the stories of a grape harvest in a wet year or a peach without a home?
1. The most important reason why the writer wanted to move to the city is that_________.
A.he did not want to work on the farm |
B.he wanted to make new friends |
C.he was eager for a different life there |
D.there were more things to do there |
A.He could see for miles and miles. |
B.The traffic moved more slowly. |
C.The people he passed seemed to be calmer. |
D.The land seemed familiar to him. |
A.familiar farmhouses which left him a good memory |
B.houses that had sheltered generations of the same family |
C.land that had been worked by a family for generations |
D.large farms which stretched out right before him. |
A.He remembered how hard he used to work. |
B.He realized that he was only a visitor. |
C.He recognized the old housed and land. |
D.He remembered his next door neighbors. |
A.A new variety of peach is being planted. |
B.Irrigation is being added to a grape operation. |
C.A piece of land is being sold by a bank. |
D.A farm is being sold to a large corporation. |
A.the poet prefers to live in the urban area |
B.the poet thinks that the folk people are backward |
C.the poet says that little has changed in the valley |
D.the poet’s criticism and comments are not objective |
For instance, Steve taught me to face the results of my behavior. Once when I returned in tears from a Saturday baseball game, it was Steve who took the time to ask me what happened. When I explained that my baseball had soared through Mrs. Holt’s basement window, breaking the glass with a crash, Steve encouraged me to apologize to her. After all, I should have been playing in the park down Fifth Street and not in the path between buildings. Although my knees knocked as I explained to Mrs. Holt, I offered to pay for the window from my pocket money if she would return my ball. I also learned from Steve that personal property(财产) is a sacred thing. After I found a shiny silver pen in my fifth-grade classroom, I wanted to keep it, but Steve explained that it might be important to someone else in spite of the fact that it had little value. He reminded me of how much I’d hate to lose to someone else the small dog my father carved from a piece of cheap wood. I returned the pen to my teacher, Mrs. Davids, and still remembered the smell of her perfume as she patted me on the shoulder. Yet of all the instructions Steve gave me, his respect for life is the most vivid in my mind.
When I was twelve, I killed an old brown sparrow in the yard with a BB gun. Excited with my skill, I screamed to Steve to come from the house to take a look. I shall never forget the way he stood for a long moment and stared at the bird on the ground. Then in a dead, quiet voice, he asked, “Did it hurt you first, Mark?” I didn’t know what to answer. He continued with his eyes firm, “The only time you should even think of hurting a living thing is when it hurts you first. And then you think a long, long time.” I really felt terrible then, but that moment stands out as the most important lesson my brother taught me.
1. What is the main subject of the passage?
A.The relationship between mark and Steve. |
B.The important lesson Mark learned in school |
C.Steve’s important role in mark’s growing process. |
D.Mark and Steve’s respect for living things. |
A.Respect for personal property. |
B.Respect for life. |
C.Sympathy for people with problems. |
D.The value of honesty. |
A.Respect for living things. |
B.Responsibility for one’s actions. |
C.The value of the honesty. |
D.Care for the property of others. |