the spring festival英文作文大学【一】
There were three of them. There were four of us, and April lay on the campsite and on the river, a mixture of dawn at a damp extreme and the sun in the leaves at cajole. This was Deer Lodge1on the Pine River in Ossipee, New Hampshire, though the lodge was naught2 but a foundation remnant in the earth. Brother Bentley's father, Oren, had found this place sometime after the First World War, a foreign affair that had seriously done him no good but he found solitude3abounding4 here. Now we were here, post World War II, post Korean War, Vietnam War on thebrink5. So much learned, so much yet to learn.
Peace then was everywhere about us, in the riot of young leaves, in the spree of bird confusion and chatter6, in the struggle of pre-dawn animals for the start of a new day, a CooperHawk7 that had smashed down through trees for a squealing8 rabbit, yap of a fox at a youngster, a skunk9 at rooting.
We had pitched camp in the near darkness, Ed LeBlanc, Brother Bentley, Walter Ruszkowski, myself. A dozen or more years we had been here, and seen no one. Now, into our campsite deep in the forest, so deep that at times we had to rebuild sections of narrow road (more a logger's path flushed out by earlier rains, deep enough where we thought we'd again have no traffic, came a growling10 engine, an old solid body van, a Chevy, the kind I had driven for Frankie Pike and the Lobster11 Pound in Lynn delivering lobsters12 throughout the Merrimack Valley. It had pre-WW II high fenders, a faded black paint on a body you'd swear had been hammered out of corrugated13 steel, and an engine that made sounds too angry and too early for the start of day. Two elderly men, we supposed in their seventies, sat the front seat; felt hats at the slouch and decorated with an assortment14 of tied flies like a miniature bandoleer ofammunition15 on the band. They could have been conscripts for Emilano Zappata, so loaded their hats and their vests as they climbed out of the truck.
"Mornin', been yet?" one of them said as he pulled his boots up from the folds at his knees, the tops of them as wide as a big mouth bass16 coming up from the bottom for a frog sitting on a lily pad. His hands were large, the fingers long and I could picture them in a shop barn working aprimal17 plane across the face of a maple18 board. Custom-made, old elegance19, those hands said.
"Barely had coffee," Ed LeBlanc said, the most vocal1 of the four of us, quickest at friendship, at shaking hands. "We've got a whole pot almost. Have what you want." The pot was pointed2out sitting on a hunk of grill3 across the stones of our fire, flames licking lightly at its sides. The pot appeared as if it had been at war, a number of dents4 scarred it, the handle had evidently been replaced, and if not adjusted against a small rock it would have fallen over for sure. Once, a half-hour on the road heading north, noting it missing, we'd gone back to get it. When we fished the Pine River, coffee was the glue, the morning glue, the late evening glue, even though we'd often unearth5 our beer from a natural cooler in early evening. Coffee, camp coffee, has a ritual. It is thick, it is dark, it is potboiled over a squaw-pine fire, it is strong, it is enough to wake the demon6 in you, stoke last evening's cheese and pepperoni. First man up makes the fire, second man the coffee; but into that pot has to go fresh eggshells to hold the grounds down, give coffee a taste of history, a sense of place. That means at least one egg be cracked open for its shells, usually in the shadows and glimmers7 of false dawn. I suspect that's where "scrambled8 eggs" originated, from some camp like ours, settlers rushing west, lumberjacks hungry, hoboes lobbying for breakfast. So, camp coffee has made its way into poems, gatherings9, memories, a time and thing not letting go, not being manhandled, not being cast aside.
"You're early enough for eggs and bacon if you need a start." Eddie added, his invitation tossedkindly10 into the morning air, his smile a match for morning sun, a man of welcomes. "We have hot cakes, kulbassa, home fries, if you want." We have the food of kings if you really want to know. There were nights we sat at his kitchen table at 101 Main Street, Saugus, Massachusetts planning the trip, planning each meal, planning the campsite. Some menus were founded on a case of beer, a late night, a curse or two on the ride to work when day started.
"Been there a'ready," the other man said, his weaponry also noted11 by us, a little more orderly in its presentation, including an old Boy Scout12 sash across his chest, the galaxy13of flies in supreme14 positioning. They were old Yankees, in the face and frame the pair of them undoubtedly15 brothers, staunch, written into early routines, probably had been up at three o'clock to get here at this hour. They were taller than we were, no fat on their frames, wide-shouldered, big-handed, barely coming out of their reserve, but fishermen. That fact alone would win any of us over. Obviously, they'd been around, a heft of time already accrued16.
Then the pounding came, from inside the truck, as if a tire iron was beating at the sides of the vehicle. It was not a timid banging, not a minor1 signal. Bang! Bang! it came, and Bang! again. And the voice of authority from some place in space, some regal spot in the universe. "I'm not sitting here the livelong day whilst you boys gab2 away." A toothless meshing3 came in his words, like Walter Brennan at work in the jail in Rio Bravo or some such movie.
"Comin', pa," one of them said, the most orderly one, the one with the old scout4 sash riding him like a bandoleer.
They pulled open the back doors of the van, swung them wide, to show His Venerable Self, ageless, white-bearded, felt hat too loaded with an arsenal5 of flies, sitting on a white wicker rocker with a rope holding him to a piece of vertical6 angle iron, the crude kind that could have been on early subways or trolley7 cars. Across his lap he held three delicate fly rods, old as him, thin, bamboo in color, probably too slight for a lake's three-pounder. But on the Pine River, upstream or downstream, under alders8 choking some parts of the river's flow, at a significant pool where side streams merge9 and phantom10 trout11 hang out their eternal promise, most elegant, fingertip elegant.
"Oh, boy," Eddie said at an aside, "there's the boss man, and look at those tools."Admiration12 leaked from his voice.
Rods were taken from the caring hands, the rope untied13, and His Venerable Self, white wicker rocker and all, was lifted from the truck and set by our campfire. I was willing to bet that my sister Pat, the dealer14 in antiques, would scoop15 up that rocker if given the slightest chance. The old one looked about the campsite, noted17 clothes drying from a previous day's rain, order of equipment and supplies aligned18 the way we always kept them, the canvas of our tent taut19 and true in its expanse, our fishing rods off the ground and placed atop the flyleaf so as not to tempt20 raccoons with smelly cork21 handles, no garbage in sight. He nodded.
We had passed muster22.
"You the ones leave it cleaner than you find it ever' year. We knowed sunthin' 'bout16 you. Never disturbed you afore. But we share the good spots." He looked closely at Brother Bentley, nodded a kind of recognition. "Your daddy ever fish here, son?"
Brother must have passed through the years in a hurry, remembering his father bringing him here as a boy. "A ways back," Brother said in his clipped North Saugus fashion, outlander, specific, no waste in his words. Old Oren Bentley, it had been told us, had walked five miles through the unknown woods off Route 16 as a boy and had come across the campsite, the remnants of an old lodge1, and a great curve in the Pine River so that a mile's walk in either direction gave you three miles of stream to fish, upstream or downstream. Paradise up north.
His Venerable Self nodded again, a man of signals, then said, "Knowed him way back some. Met him at the Iron Bridge. We passed a few times." Instantly we could see the story. A whole history of encounter was in his words; it marched right through us the way knowledge does, as well as legend. He pointed2 at the coffeepot. "The boys'll be off, but my days down there get cut up some. I'll sit a while and take some of thet." He said thet too pronounced, too dramatic, and it was a short time before I knew why.
The white wicker rocker went into a slow and deliberate motion, his head nodded again. Hespoke3 to his sons. "You boys be back no more'n two-three hours so these fellers can do their things too, and keep the place tidied up."
The most orderly son said, "Sure, pa. Two-three hours." The two elderly sons left the campsite and walked down the path to the banks of the Pine River, their boots swishing at thigh4 line, the most elegant rods pointing the way through scattered5 limbs, experience on the move.Trout6 beware, we thought.
"We been carpenters f'ever," he said, the clip still in his words. "Those boys a mine been some good at it too." His head cocked, he seemed to listen for their departure, the leaves and branches quiet, the murmur7 of the stream a tinkling8 idyllic9 music rising up the banking10. Old Venerable Himself moved the wicker rocker forward and back, a small timing11 taking place. He was hearing things we had not heard yet, the whole symphony all around us. Eddie looked at me and nodded his own nod. It said, "I'm paying attention and I know you are. This is our one encounter with a man who has fished for years the river we love, that we come to twice a year, in May with the mayflies, in June with the black flies." The gift and the scourge12, we'd often remember, having been both scarred and sewn by it.
Brother was still at memory, we could tell. Silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. A bird talked to us from a high limb1. A fox called to her young. We were on the Pine River once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in Paradise2.
"Name's Roger Treadwell. Boys are Nathan and Truett." The introductions had been accounted for.
Old Venerable Roger Treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "You boys wouldn't have a couple spare beers, would ya?"
Now that's the way to start the day on the Pine River.
the spring festival英文作文大学【二】
I read the Chinese version of “Camille” a few years ago. At that time I was deeply moved by the main character Marguerite Gautier. “Camille” or “The Lady of the Camellias” by Alexandre Dumas, fils, is the story of Marguerite Gautier, a young courtesan, or kept woman, in Paris in the mid 1800's, and how she falls in love with a young man, Armand Duval, and then tries to escape from her questionable past. Unfortunately, it comes back to haunt her and she ends up returning to that life and dies painfully and alone, but with the knowledge that she was a noble woman at heart. When I first began to read the book, I did not care for Marguerite or her attitude or lifestyle, but as I got further into the narrative, I realized that her saucy attitude was a front to cover the lonely woman that she really was. She felt used, abused and unloved, until the gentle Armand Duval came into her life and showed her that he loved her as a person and not for what she could do for him. It must have taken great courage for Marguerite to leave the life she had lived for so long, knowing all along that it was probably too good to be true and would not last indefinitely. And it also showed that Marguerite really loved Armand Duval for she could even change herself for him.
However, happiness didn’t last for long. When M. Duval, Armand's father, came to her, pleading for her to leave Armand to save both Armand's reputation and that of his younger innocent sister, Marguerite saw a way to become pure of heart, if not in body. She felt that it was her duty, because she loved Armand so much, to do this even though it meant giving up her own happiness and hurting Armand temporarily. She reluctantly returned to her former life, knowing that.some day Armand would forgive her. Sadly, she died in debt and basically alone, except for her one female friend, Julie Duprat, who helped her during her illness. She had her journal sent to Armand after her death, explaining why she had made the choices she had. I think Dumas's last few lines about Marguerite being the exception, not the rule were quite true, and I also agreed with his view that while her lifestyle could not be condoned, we as a society assume that all of these type of women are cold and heartless, while this may not always be the case. A person can make the wrong choices in life when they are young, and try to redeem themselves, but sometimes past situations prevent them from changing their lives, even though they desperately wish to do so. This applies to both men and women in many different types of circumstances: involvement in crime; drug or alcohol abuse; gambling; prostitution; financial problems; poor marriage choices; etc. And this is the fact, which exists in the whole society.
As far as the other characters in the book, I think Marguerite was right in saying that no one truly cared about her, but only wanted something from her, the only exceptions being Armand and Julie Duprat. Of course, the Comte de G. and Comte de N. wanted her body and appearance. The
Duke needed to “wake up and smell the coffee” and realize that she could never replace his dead daughter. If he truly cared, he could have helped her leave her lifestyle without “keeping” her himself. And lastly, Prudence was a blood-sucking leech who used Marguerite almost worse than the men. I also think she was jealous of the fact that Marguerite had so much more courage than herself and someone truly loved her.
Last morning, when tiding my bookshelf, I took this book out of the shelf, and a dried flower flew away from the book. It was pale blue, very transparent, with thin fine veins. a dried flower flew away from the book. It was pale blue, very transparent, with thin fine veins. I held it against the morning light and blew on it. The soft breeze carried it away. Camille is just like the camellia, she could never escape from the destiny of withering. But it wasn’t her fault; it’s because of the evil of Capitalism and the hideousness of that society.
Suddenly, I remembered a saying: “Women are like the flowers”. Those pretty women are like those beautiful flowers; their delicate beauty makes people feel they are the miracle of life. However, even the God envies their beauty. It seems that beautiful women always have tragic endings. As we are normal persons, even we can see the hideousness of humanity that results in their fate of withering, we can at most ask quietly in our hearts: Where have those beautiful flowers gone? Where have they gone?
The Life And Adventures Of Robinson Crusoe
It seemed to be such a coincidence that the night after I finished reading The Life And Adventures Of Robinson Crusoe, I was to dine in a restaurant distinctly related to the book itself. This restaurant was no other than the famous American-styled “Friday ’s. ” The reason for mentioning this restaurant is quite straightforward to all the gentlemen, ladies and children who have read the novel and enjoyed it, which is the fact that this restaurant was, most likely, named after the American Native in Robinson Crusoe, called Friday. This restaurant offers very exceptional service, for instance when the waitresses are asked to order dishes they kneel rather than stand, which, unlike the other restaurants I have been to, makes it easier for the customers to hear them speak. Moreover, Friday’s friendly services to the customers help them to make better choices when ordering dishes. I remembered when I went to Friday ’s last time; the waitress kindly described the items on the menu with precise details. It turned out that the combo I initially wanted was designed to be shared among a large group, not to be eaten by one person. I think this restaurant shows many commendable features similar to that of Friday. Friday brought emotional warmth to the people around him with his appealing personality. I think it was this personality that affected Crusoe and made him say that he loved Friday when Crusoe didn ’t express love for his parents, brothers, sisters, or even his wife. “When he espied me, he came running to me, laying himself down again upon the ground, with all the possible signs of an humble, thankful disposition, making many antic gestures to show it to let me know how he would serve me as long as he lived.” This was what Friday did after Crusoe had rescued him from the two savages chasing him. It was easy for me to see why Crusoe had loved Friday. After sometime, Crusoe and Friday were to rescue Friday’s father. When Friday reunited with his father, the scene was easy to move anyone: “It would have moved anyone to tears to have seen how Friday kissed him, embraced him, hugged him, cried, laughed, halloed, jumped about, danced,
sung; and then sung and jumped about again, like a distracted creature. It was a good while before I could make him speak to me.” This is my favourite chapter in the whole book. It is hard to see why Friday is an ex-savage when he can have personalities more praiseworthy than many civilized people, viz. Crusoe himself. “When he (Friday went to him (Friday’s father, he would sit down by him, open his breast, and hold his father’s head close to his bosom, half an hour together, to nourish it; then he took his arms and ankles, which were numbed and stiff with the binding, and rubbed them with his hands.” Furthermore, Friday’s expression of loyalty in asking Crusoe to kill him rather than leave him is more heartfelt than anything Crusoe ever says or does.
Crusoe, on the absolute contrary, seems incapable of deep feelings, as shown by his account of leaving his family—he never shows any emotions. After a moving lecture from Robinson’s father about his future, he still decided to follow his own wandering ambition. Careless was he about the wishes of his parents to keep him alive and prosperous, as he was the only child left in the family. When he came back from the island which he had lived on for twenty eight years, he found that it had been too late to tell his parents that he was still alive, but yet again he did not feel sorry for them; he also did not feel sorry for the two people who had to live in misery for nearly thirty years under the allusion all of their sons were dead. He had the same feelings for his wife: when he was married, he said it was “not either to my disadvantage or dissatisfaction”, implying that it was also neither to his advantage nor his satisfaction. Moreover, after his wife died, Robinson did not think of looking after the three children they had, but went back to the island, which he had lived on for twenty-eight years. It was on this trip which Robinson Crusoe revisited “His Island ” as he called it. I feel that Robinson ’s indifference to his family is almost emotionally cruel.
Before had clearly shown the contrast between Crusoe’s and Friday’s personalities, as when Friday, in his joyful reunion with his father, displayed far more emotion toward his family members than Crusoe, whereas Crusoe never mentions missing his family or dreams about the happiness of seeing them again. I think Defore is very successful in introducing Friday as part of the novel, it makes the whole novel seem much more complete and gripping to the reader, as well as proving that Defoe’s ideology of racism is civilized unlike many other Europeans at that time; natives and savages are not worse than others but can perhaps even be more modern and civilized. Those are the reasons of why I like The Life And Adventures Of Robinson Crusoe and Friday.
the spring festival英文作文大学【三】
the spring festival英文作文大学【四】
This afternoon I went to the park which was built recently near my home.In the park,I saw many beautiful flowers and trees.The air was quite fresh and brids sang happyly.All the people there were singing,dancing and playing games.What a lovely place!
今天是五天。我去公园与我的家人庆祝这个节日。那里是许多人在公园里。他们中的一些人被拍照，别人是去观光。多么幸福地看着他们。
今天下午我去最近建成的我家附近的公园。在公园里，我看见许多漂亮的`花和树。空气很新鲜，鸟儿地歌唱。所有的人那里是唱歌，跳舞和玩游戏。多可爱的地方！
the spring festival英文作文大学【五】
This is a story about a special and unreserved woman who has been exposed to a hostile environment but continuously and fearlessly struggling for her ideal life. The story can be interpreted as a symbol of the independent spirit.
It seems to me that many readers’ English reading experience starts with Jane Eyer. I am of no exception. As we refer to the movie “Jane Eyer”, it is not surprising to find some differences because of its being filmized and retold in a new way, but the spirit of the novel remains----to be an independent person, both physically and mentally.
Jane Eyer was a born resister, whose parents went off when she was very young, and her aunt，the only relative she had，treated her as badly as a ragtag. Since Jane’s education in Lowwood Orphanage began, she didn’t get what she had been expecting——simply being regarded as a common person, just the same as any other girl around. The suffers from being humiliated and devastated teach Jane to be persevering and prize dignity over anything else.As a reward of revolting the ruthless oppression, Jane got a chance to be a tutor in Thornfield Garden. There she made the acquaintance of lovely Adele and that garden’s owner, Rochester, a man with warm heart despite a cold face outside. Jane expected to change the life from then on, but fate had decided otherwise: After Jane and Rochester fell in love with each other and got down to get marry, she unfortunately came to know in fact Rochester had got a legal wife, who seemed to be the shadow following Rochester and led to his moodiness all the time ----Rochester was also a despairing person in need of salvation. Jane did want to give him a hand, however, she made up her mind to leave, because she didn’t want to betray her own principles, because she was Jane Eyer. The film has finally got a symbolist end: Jane inherited a large number of legacies and finally returned. After finding Rochester ’s misfortune brought by his original mad wife, Jane chose to stay with him forever.
I don’t know what others feel, but frankly speaking, I would rather regard the section that Jane began her teaching job in Thornfield as the film’s end----especially when I heard Jane’s words “Never in my life have I been awaken so happily. ” For one thing, this ideal and brand-new beginning of life was what Jane had been imagining for long as a suffering person; for another, this should be what the audiences with my views hoped her to get. But the professional judgment of producing films reminded me to wait for a totally different result: There must be something wrong coming with the excellence----perhaps not only should another section be added to enrich the story, but also we may see from the next transition of Jane’s life that “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you would get.”
What ’s more, this film didn’t end when Jane left Thornfield. For Jane Eyer herself, there should always be somewhere to realize her great ideal of being independent considering her fortitude, but for Rochester, how he can get salvation? The film gives the answer tentatively: Jane eventually got back to Rochester. In fact, when Jane met Rochester for the first time, she scared his horse and made his heel strained, to a certain extent, which meant Rochester would get retrieval because of Jane. We can consider Rochester’s experiences as that of religion meaning. The fire by his frantic wife was the punishment for the cynicism early in his life. After it, Rochester got the mercy of the God and the love of the woman whom he loved. Here we can say: human nature and divinity get united perfectly in order to let such a story accord with the requirements of both two sides. The value of this film may be due to its efforts to explore a new way for the development of humanism under the faith of religion.
the spring festival英文作文大学【六】
Many people simply regard Pride and Prejudice as a love story, but in my opinion, this book is an illustration of the society at that time. She perfectly reflected the relation between money and marriage at her time and gave the people in her works vivid characters. The characters have their own personalities. Mrs. Bennet is a woman who makes great efforts to marry off her daughters. Mr. Bingley is a friendly young man, but his friend, Mr. Darcy, is a very proud man who seems to always feel superior. Even the five daughters in Bennet family are very different. Jane is simple, innocent and never speaks evil of others. Elizabeth is a clever girl who always has her own opinion. Mary likes reading classic books. (Actually she is a pedant. Kitty doesn’t have her own opinion but likes to follow her sister, Lydia. Lydia is a girl who follows exotic things, handsome man, and is somehow a little profligate. When I read the book, I can always find the same personalities in the society now. That is why I think this book is indeed the representative of the society in Britain in the 18th century.
The family of gentleman in the countryside is Jane Austen’s favourite topic. But this little topic can reflect big problems. It concludes the stratum situation and economic relationships in Britain in her century. You can find these from the very beginning of this book.
The first sentence in this book is impressive. It reads: “It is a truth well known to all the world that an unmarried man in poss ession of a large fortune must be in need of a wife”. The undertone is very clear: the foundation of the marriage at that time is not emotion but possession.
People always think that Austen was an expert at telling love stories. In fact, the marriage in her book is not the result of love, but the result of economic needs. After reading this book, I know the truth is that a poor woman must be in need of a husband, a wealthy man.
I couldn’t forget how eager Mrs. Bennet wants to marry off her daughte rs. If you want to know why she is so crazy about these things, I must mention the situation in Britain at that time. Only the eldest son had the privilege of inheriting his father’s possessions. Younger sons and daughters who are used to luxurious lives have no choice but marry a man or woman in possession of a large fortune to continue their comfortable lives. Thus, we can see that getting married is a way to become wealthier, particularly for women without many possessions. Jane Austen told us that money and possession determined everything, including marriage and love in her century.
In “Pride and Prejudice”, the sister of Mr. Bingley strongly opposed his plan of marrying Jane because the Bennets don’t have many possessions and their social positions are much lower than them. From this, we can see there are a lot of obstacles for a not very rich woman to marry a wealthy husband. The society, the relatives would not allow them to get married.
In modern society, although the marriages of economic needs have decreased rapidly, the concept of “money determines everything” is still rooted in some people’s mind. A lot of parents try hard to interfere their children’s marriages. Education background, possessions, jobs remains the main reason that may influence one’s marriage. Marry for money is still a big problem in our
society. We can’t help thinking: can money determine everything?
Austen left this problem for us to think. The genius of Jane Austen lies in this perfect simplicity, the simplicity that reflects big problems. Although Austen was only 21 when she wrote “Pride and Prejudice”, her sharp observation of social lives makes the style of this book surprisingly mature and lively. The plots in her works are always very natural. The development of the plot is as inevitable as a problem in mathematics. I think the depth of Pride and Prejudice is the reason that makes this book prominent and classic. Today, her book still can be the guide telling us the economic relationships both at her time and in modern time.
the spring festival英文作文大学【七】
best season of the year! So I like spring very much. What about you?
When the weather become warm and sunny, everything comes to life again, they seem to tell us— spring has come . In much of China. Spring is usually very short. But the days get longer. It’s usually from March to May. Sometime it’s colder but it gets warmer. At spring times, In the fields everything begins to grow. Trees turn green, and flowers start to come out.
Spring can make people happy! If you do some sports at that time, you will join them. Like flying the kite, going fishing, going hiking and so on. It’s can make people happy and also can keep people healthy. I think it’s very interesting!Summer, full of vigor, is beautiful, but I think spring is more beautiful because it is a naivetest season.
