阅读理解

It's Pigs' Hometown

　　The story happened during the Second World War．An old man lived in a small town of Germany．He had three sons and they all worked in the same factory where he had worked．After the war had begun, his sons were all made to join the army one after another and they all died in the fights．The old man was very sad．He didn't have enough food and was often hungry．And nobody helped him and he didn't know to go on living．

　　It was a very cold winter night．The old man couldn't go to sleep．He had been hungry for two days and it was so cold in his room that ice could be seen．He had go get up and began to run in the room until he lay down on the floor．The next morning he had to beg from door to door．He had been to a lot of cities and knew a lot．

　　Once he came to a village, but the villagers were all poor and couldn't give him anything．He was too hungry to go to another village．He thought hard and found a way．He came to a police station and called out“Hitler is a pig!”

　　Out came an old policeman at once．He took the old man into a room, gave him some bread and a cup of tea．Then he said,“Don't say so in our village, sir!”

　　“I'm sorry, sir”, said the old man．“I don't know it's Hitler's hometown．”“No, no, sir”, the policeman said in a hurry,“It's a pig's hometown!”

阅读理解

　　There was one thing that I found rather strange on my first day to work at Monk’s House．The floors in the house were very thin．The bathroom was directly above the kitchen, and when Mrs．Wolf was having her bath before breakfast, I could hear her talking to herself．On and on she went, talked, talked, talked, asking questions and giving herself the answers．I thought there must have been two or three people up there with her．Later Mrs．Woolf explained that Mrs．Woolf always said the sentences out loud what she had written during the night．She needed to know if they sounded right and the bath was a place for trying them out．

　　I was not allowed to make coffee at Monk’s House－Mr．and Mrs．Woolf came into the kitchen at eight o’clock every morning to make it．When we carried the breakfast trays to Mrs．Woolf’s room I noticed that there were pencils and paper beside her bed so that when she woke up she could work, and sometimes it seemed as though she had had very little sleep．

　　Mrs．Woolf’s bedroom was outside the house in the garden．I used to think how inconvenient it must be to have to go out in the rain to go to bed．Her bedroom had been added on to the back of the house; the door faced the garden and a window at the side opened out on to a field．Because the writing room was small．Mr．Woolf had had a large one built for her at the end of the garden against the church wall．

　　I can always remember her coming out of her writing room only for lunch each day．She used to walk down through the thin and very graceful, with large, deep set eyes．She wore long skirts in the fashion of the day, any silk jackets of the same color, which suited her well．I pressed her clothes and did any sewing that was necessary．

　　Her cigarettes were made from a special tobacco called My Mixture．Mr．Woolf bought it for her in London, and in the evenings, they used to sit by the fire and make these cigarettes themselves．

阅读理解

　　There was one thing that I found rather strange on my first day to work at Monk's House．The floors in the house were very thin．The bathroom was directly above the kitchen, and when Mrs．Woolf was having her bath before breakfast, I could hear her talking to herself．On and on she went, talk, talk, talk, asking questions and giving herself the answers．I thought there must have been two or three people up there with her．Later Mr．Woolf explained that Mrs．Woolf always said out loud what she had written during the night．She needed to know if they sounded right and the bath was a good place for trying them out．

　　I was not allowed to make coffee at Monk's House－Mr．and Mrs．Woolf came into the kitchen at eight o'clock every morning to make it．When we carried the breakfast trays to Mrs．Woolf's room I noticed that there were pencils and paper beside her bed so that when she woke up she could work, and sometimes it seemed as though she had had very little sleep．

　　Mrs．Woolf's bedroom was outside the house in the garden．I used to think how inconvenient it must be to have to go out in rain to go to bed．Her bedroom had been added to the back of the house; the door faced the garden and a window opened out onto a field．Because the writing-room was small, Mr．Woolf had had a larger one built for her at the end of the garden against the church wall．

　　I can always remember her coming out of her writing-room only for lunch each day：she used to walk down through the garden smoking one of her favourite cigarettes．She was tall and thin and very graceful, with large, deep-set eyes．She wore long skirts in the fashion of the day, and silk jackets of the same colour, which suited her well．I pressed her clothes and did any sewing that was necessary．

　　Her cigarettes were made from a special tobacco called My Mixture．Mr．Woolf bought it for her in London, and, in the evenings, they used to sit by the fire and make these cigarettes themselves．