西南聯大英文課：原版精讀手冊

《西南聯大英文課》是西南聯大時期（1937—1946）大一學生的英文課本，“大一英文”這門課是面向全校一年級學生開設的必修課程，所以這本書是聯大八年辦學中所有學生都學習過的。原書爲純英文，中譯出版社於2017年推出英漢雙語讀本，深受歡迎。本次出版，按照文章主題分爲8個分冊，邀請8位外語名師聯合導讀，並附贈陳福田編寫的原版精讀手冊，設計爲口袋本，方便讀者閱讀和自學。 值得一閱！

很好，用兩個月時間斷斷續續的看完，有的似懂非懂，有的囫圇吞棗，有的認真仔細。這裏面有散文，有傳記，有哲學，有教育學，有文學。每篇文章都精彩，有的地方也是解惑，讓思維比以前更加清楚了一些。很經典的教材，很多思想放到現在依舊是前沿。

被名稱耽誤的寶藏書 “課本”勸退不少讀者 但這本書真的是掇菁擷華

《西南聯大英文課》：靜坐聽雨，無問西東 西南聯大，僅存八年，卻彪炳於世界大學之林，可與牛津、劍橋、哈佛、耶魯平分秋色。幾多輝煌事，悠悠八十年！傳奇的西南聯大至今令人神往，雖不能至，心嚮往之。今天要推薦的，便是這本《西南聯大英文課》——西南聯大時期，所有學生大一時的英文必修課課本。 本書由西南聯大時任外文系主任的陳福田編訂，原先爲全英文讀本（原名爲《大學一年級英文教本》），如今附上了名家名譯，英漢對照，更方便讀者學習。它彙集了中外名家精華，如賽珍珠、毛姆、林語堂、胡適、蘭姆、梭羅、愛倫·坡等，篇篇甄選，發人內省，常讀常新。 譯界泰斗許淵衝也曾求學於西南聯大，他在其回憶錄《逝水年華》中寫道： ”聯大八年來爲國家培養了成千上萬的人才，沒有一個人不讀《大一英文》（即《西南聯大英文課》），沒有一個人完全不受英文讀本影響，不受潛移默化作用的。“ 本書既適合當作閒時的消遣，也經得住細細揣摩和推敲；既能品味漢語的魅力，又能飽覽英文的精妙，對翻譯學習者來說無疑是難得的高品質材料。

2023年3月19日 星期日 祝福早安 天氣晴朗 氣溫3℃ 《西南聯大英文課》 Guide to the Essay 導讀 林語堂（1895—1976），中國現代著名作家、學者、翻譯家、語言學家。 林語堂出生於一個基督教家庭，父親爲教會牧師。林語堂曾描述他父親是個“無可救藥的樂天派”“不可思議的理想主義者”，他同情勞苦人民，敢於頂撞鄉紳，喜歡替人排憂解難，很受鄉人敬重。他十分重視對子女的教育，教子女們讀古詩、古文，學作聯句，更要他們學好英文，不顧家境的窘困堅持送子女入名牌學校讀書。家庭對林語堂的童年產生了很大影響。 1912年林語堂入上海聖約翰大學讀書，畢業後在清華大學任教。1919年秋赴美在哈佛大學文學系攻讀，1922年獲文學碩士學位。同年，轉入德國萊比錫大學，專攻語言學。1923年獲博士學位後回國，先後在北京大學、北京女子師範大學和廈門大學任教。1924年後，作爲《語絲》主要撰稿人寫了許多鍼砭時弊的戰鬥性雜文。1932年開始，陸續創辦刊物《論語》《人間世》和《宇宙風》，積極推進小品文創作，主張“幽默”“性靈”，提倡“以自我爲中心，以閒適爲格調”，成爲“論語派”代表人物、國內享譽盛名的幽默大師。1935年用英語寫作的《吾國與吾民》（My Country and My People），使他在美國和英國聲名鵲起，躋身中國及中國文明的最佳闡釋者之列。1936年到美國定居，以著作爲生，主要用英語寫作，創作了長篇小說《京華煙雲》（Moment in Peking, 1939）、《風聲鶴唳》（Leaf in the Storm, 1940）、《唐人街》（Chinatown Family, 1948）、《朱門》（The Vermilion Gate,1953）以及小品集《生活的藝術》（The Importance of Living,1937）等，翻譯了《東坡詩文選》《浮生六記》等。林語堂於1940年和1950年先後兩度獲得諾貝爾文學獎提名。1966年定居臺灣，1967年受聘爲香港中文大學研究教授，主持編撰《林語堂當代漢英詞典》。1976年在香港逝世，享年80歲。 《生活的目的》是林語堂所著《吾國與吾民》最後一章《結語》的第一部分，該書由紐約的約翰·戴出版公司1935年出版。他在文中以坦率幽默的筆調、睿智通達的語言剖析了中國人的性格、心靈、理想、生活、政治、社會和藝術，並與西方人的性格、理想、生活等作了廣泛深入的比較。林語堂對於自己民族的傳統文化具有深刻的理解，對於西方文化也在日久天長的浸淫中知之甚多，他的寫作充分體現了他自己所說的“兩腳踏東西文化，一心評宇宙文章”。 在本文中，林語堂認爲中國人能夠同時生活在感官世界和精神世界之中，而不認爲兩者一定會有什麼衝突，因爲人類的精神是被用來美化生活，提煉生活的精華，或許還能幫助生活克服感官世界中不可避免的種種醜惡和痛苦，而不是用來逃避生活，或在來世找尋生活的意義。這樣的生活態度使中國人堅信一些簡單的智慧，比如尊敬老人、享受家庭生活的樂趣、接受生活、接受性別差異、接受悲哀，也使中國人注重一些尋常的美德：忍耐、勤勞、節儉、中庸與和平主義。他認爲，一切知識的最終目標是人類的幸福，因此要把個體的快樂和幸福追求當成生活的目的。他在文中寫道：“生活是如此動盪不安，因而當我們發現了真正令自己滿意的東西，我們就會抓住不放，就像一位母親在黑暗的暴風雨之夜裏緊緊摟住懷中的嬰孩。”他還倡導一種冷眼看世界的人生態度：“人生在很大程度上不過是一場鬧劇，有時最好做個超然的旁觀者，或許比一味參與要強得多。”在當時整個民族面臨災難和痛苦的時候，林語堂仍然強調閒適和有趣的人生境界，看似與時代氛圍極不協調，但實質上是體現了他貼近人生本相的人生哲學，因爲人類在任何困境中都應該快樂地生存和搏鬥下去。 I n the general survey of Chinese art and Chinese life, the conviction must have been forced upon us that the Chinese are past masters in the art of living. There is a certain whole-hearted concentration on the material life, a certain zest in living, which is mellower, perhaps deeper, anyway just as intense as in the West. In China the spiritual values have not been separated from the material values, but rather help man in a keener enjoyment of life as it falls to our lot.This accounts for our joviality and our incorrigible humor. A heathen can have a heathenish devotion to the life of the present and envelop both spiritual and material values in one outlook, which it is difficult for a Christian to imagine. We live the life of the senses and the life of the spirit at the same moment, and see no necessary conflict. For the human spirit is used tobeautify life, to extract its essence, perhaps to help it overcome ugliness and pain inevitable in the world of our senses, but never to escape from it and find its meaning in a life hereafter. When Confucius said in reply to a question by a disciple on death, “Don’t know life—how know death?” he expressed there a somewhat bourgeois, unmetaphysical and practical attitude toward the problems of life and knowledge which has characterized our national life and thinking. This standpoint establishes for us a certain scale of values. In every aspect of knowledge and of living, the test of life holds. It accounts for our pleasures and our antipathies. The test of life was with us a racial thought, wordless and needing no definition or giving of reasons. It was that test of life which, instinctively I think, guided us to distrust civic civilization and uphold the rural ideal in art, life and letters, to dislike religion in our rational moments, to play with Buddhism but never quite accept its logical conclusions, and to hate mechanical ingenuity. It was that instinctive trust in life that gave us a robust common sense in looking at life's kaleidoscopic changes and the myriad vexatious problems of the intellect which we rudely ignored. It enabled us to see life steadily and see life whole, with no great distortions of values. It taught us some simple wisdom, like respect for old age and the joys of domestic life, acceptance of life, of sex, and of sorrow. It made us lay emphasis on certain common virtues, like endurance, industry, thrift, moderation, and pacificism. It prevented the development of freakish extreme theories and the enslaving of man by the products of his own intelligence. It gave us a sense of values, and taught us to accept the material as well as the spiritual goods of life. It taught us that, after all is said and done, human happiness is the end of all knowledge. And we arrange ourselves to make our lives happy on this planet, under whatever vicissitudes of fortune. We are an old nation. The eyes of an old people see in its past and in this changing modern life much that is superficial and much that is of true meaning to our lives. We are a little cynical about progress, and we are a little bit indolent, as are all old people. We do not want to race about in a field for a ball; we prefer to saunter along willow banks to listen to the bird's song and the children's laughter. Life is so precarious that when we know something truly satisfies us, we hold on to it tight, as a mother hugs her baby close to her breast in a dark, stormy night. We have really no desire for exploring the South Pole or scaling the Himalayas. When Westerners do that, we ask, “What do you do that for? Do you have to go to the South Pole to be happy?” We go to the movies and theaters, but in the heart of our hearts we feel that a real child's laughter gives us as much real joy and happiness as an imaginary child's laughter on the screen. We compare the two and stay at home. We do not believe that kissing one's own wife is necessarily insipid, and that other people's wives are necessarily more beautiful because they are other people's wives. We do not ache to reach the foot of the mountain when we are in the middle of the lake, and we do not ache to be at the top of the hill when we are at its foot. We drink what wine there is in the pot and enjoy what scenery there is before our eyes. So much of life is merely a farce. It is sometimes just as well to stand by and look at it and smile, perhaps better than to take part in it. Like a dreamer awakened, we see life, not with the romantic color of yesternight’s dream, but with a saner vision. We are more ready to give up the dubious, the glamorous and the unattainable, but at the same time to hold on to the few things that we know will give us happiness. We always go back to nature as an eternal source of beauty and of true and deep and lasting happiness. Deprived of progress and of national power, we yet throw open our windows and listen to cicadas or to falling autumn leaves and inhale the fragrance of chrysanthemums, and over the top there shines the autumn moon, and we are content. For we are now in the autumn of our national life. There comes a time in our lives, as nations and as individuals, when we are pervaded by the spirit of early autumn, in which green is mixed with gold and sadness is mixed with joy, and hope is mixed with reminiscence. There comes a time in our lives when the innocence of spring is a memory and the exuberance of summer a song whose echoes faintly remain in the air, when as we look out on life, the problem is not how to grow but how to live truly, not how to strive and labor but how to enjoy the precious moments we have, not how to squander our energy but how to conserve it in preparation for the coming winter. A sense of having arrived somewhere, of having settled and having found out what we want. A sense of having achieved something also, precious little compared with its past exuberance, but still something, like an autumn forest shorn of its summer glory but retaining such of it as will endure. I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colors richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content. From a knowledge of those limitations and its richness of experience emerges a symphony of colors,richer than all, its green speaking of life and strength,its orange speaking of golden content, and its purple of resignation and death. And the moon shines over it, and its brow seems white with reflection, but when the setting sun touches it with an evening glow, it can still laugh cheerily. An early mountain breeze brushes by and sends its shivering leaves dancing gaily to the ground, and you do not know whether the song of the falling leaves is the song of laughter or of parting tears. For it is the Song of the Spirit of Early Autumn, the spirit of calm and wisdom and maturity, which smiles at sorrow itself and praises the exhilarating, keen, cool air—the Spirit of Autumn so well expressed by Hsin Ch‘ichi: “In my young days, I had tasted only gladness, But loved to mount the top floor, But loved to mount the top floor, To write a song pretending sadness. “And now I’ve tasted Sorrow's flavors, bitter and sour, And can't find a word, And can't find a word, But merely say, ‘What a golden autumn hour!’” Translation 參考譯文 在概述了中國的藝術與生活之後，我們不得不承認中國人的確是精通生活藝術的大師。他們全心全意地致力於物質生活，其熱忱絕不下於西方，並且更爲成熟，或許還更爲深沉。在中國，精神的價值並未與物質的價值相分離，反而幫助人們更好地享受自己命定的生活。這就解釋了爲什麼我們具有一種快活的性情和根深蒂固的幽默。一個無宗教信仰的人會對現世的世俗生活抱有一種粗野的熱忱，並且融物質與精神兩種價值於一身，這在基督徒是難以想象的。我們能夠同時生活在感官世界和精神世界之中，而不認爲兩者一定會有什麼衝突。因爲人類的精神是被用來美化生活，提煉生活的精華，或許還能幫助生活克服感官世界中不可避免的種種醜惡和痛苦，而不是用來逃避生活，或在來世找尋生活的意義。孔子在回答一位弟子關於死亡的問題時說：“未知生，焉知死？”這句話表達了一種對於生命和知識問題的庸俗、具體而實用的態度，而正是這種態度造就了我們現在國民生活及思維的特徵。 這一立場爲我們樹立了多層級的價值尺度。這種生活標準適用於知識和人生的方方面面，解釋了我們喜好與憎惡某一事物的原因。這種生活標準已經融入我們的民族意識，不需要任何文字上的說明、界定或闡釋。我認爲也正是這種生活標準促使我們在藝術、人生和文學中本能地懷疑城市文明，崇尚田園理想；促使我們在理智的時刻厭惡宗教，涉獵佛學但從不完全接受其合乎邏輯的結論；促使我們憎惡機械發明。正是這種對於生活的本能信仰，賦予我們一種堅定的常識，面對生活的萬千變化以及智慧的無數棘手問題，可以做到巋然不動。它使我們能夠沉着地、完整地看待生活，並維繫固有的價值觀念。它也教會了我們一些簡單的智慧，比如尊敬老人，享受家庭生活的樂趣，接受生活，接受性別差異，接受悲哀。它使我們注重這樣幾種尋常的美德：忍耐、勤勞、節儉、中庸與和平主義。它使我們不至於發展某些怪異極端的理論，不至於成爲自己智慧產品的奴隸。它賦予我們一種價值觀，教會我們同時接受生活給予我們的物質和精神財富。它告訴人們：歸根結底，只有人類的幸福纔是一切知識的最終目標。於是我們得以在命運的浮沉中調整自己，欣欣然生活在這個行星之上。 我們是一個古老的民族。在老人看來，我們民族的過去以及變化萬端的現代生活，有不少是淺薄的，也有不少確實觸及了生活的真諦。同任何一個老人一樣，我們對進步有所懷疑，我們也有點懶散。我們不喜歡爲一隻球在球場上爭逐，而喜歡漫步於柳堤之上，聽聽鳥兒的鳴唱和孩子的笑語。生活是如此動盪不安，因而當我們發現了真正令自己滿意的東西，我們就會抓住不放，就像一位母親在黑暗的暴風雨之夜裏緊緊摟住懷中的嬰孩。我們對探險南極或者攀登喜馬拉雅山實在毫無興趣，一旦西方人這樣做，我們會問：“你做這件事的目的何在？你非得到南極去尋找幸福嗎？”我們會光顧影院和劇場，然而內心深處卻認爲，相比銀幕上的幻象，現實生活中兒童的嬉笑同樣能給我們帶來歡樂和幸福。如此一來，我們便情願待在家裏。我們不認爲親吻自己的老婆必定寡淡無味，而別人的妻子僅僅因爲是別人的妻子就顯得更加楚楚動人。我們在身處湖心之時並不渴望走到山腳下去，我們在山腳下時也並不企求登至山頂。我們信奉今朝有酒今朝醉，花開堪折直須折。 人生在很大程度上不過是一場鬧劇，有時最好做個超然的旁觀者，或許比一味參與要強得多。我們就像一個剛剛醒來的睡夢者一樣，看待人生用的是一種清醒的眼光，而不是帶着昨夜夢境的浪漫色彩。我們樂於放棄那些捉摸不定、令人嚮往卻又難以達到的東西，同時緊緊抓住不多的幾件我們清楚會給自己帶來幸福的東西。我們常常喜歡迴歸自然，以之爲美和真正的、深沉的、長久的幸福的永恆源泉。儘管喪失了進步與國力，我們還是能夠打開窗子，聆聽金蟬的鳴聲，欣賞秋天的落葉，呼吸菊花的芬芳。秋月朗照之下，我們感到心滿意足。 我們現在身處民族生活的秋天。在我們生命中的某一時刻，無論是民族還是個人，都爲新秋精神所滲透：綠色錯落着金色、悲傷交織着歡樂、希望混雜着懷舊。在這一時刻，春天的單純已成記憶，夏日的繁茂已爲空氣中微弱迴盪着的歌吟。我們看待人生，不是在籌謀怎樣發展，而是去考慮如何真正地活着；不是怎樣奮發勞作，而是如何珍惜當下的寶貴時光盡情享樂；不是如何揮霍自己的精力，而是養精蓄銳應對冬天的到來。我們感到自己已經到達某個地方，安頓下來，並找到了自己想要的東西。我們還感到已經獲得了某種東西，這與過去的榮華相比儘管微不足道，卻像是褪去了夏日繁茂的秋林一樣，仍然有些餘暉在繼續放光。 我喜歡春天，可它過於稚嫩；我喜歡夏天，可它過於驕矜。因而我最喜歡秋天，喜歡它泛黃的樹葉、成熟的格調和斑斕的色彩。它帶着些許感傷，也帶着死亡的預兆。秋天的金碧輝煌所展示的不是春天的單純，也不是夏天的偉力，而是接近高邁之年的老成和睿智——明白人生有限因而知足，這種“生也有涯”的感知與豐富的人生經驗變幻出和諧的秋色：綠色代表生命和力量，橘黃代表金玉的內容，紫色代表屈從與死亡。在月光照耀下，秋天陷入沉思，露出蒼白的神情；而當夕陽的餘暉撫摸她面容的時候，她仍然能夠爽悅地歡笑。山間的晨風拂過，枝杈間片片顫動着的秋葉舞動着飄向大地，你真不知道這落葉的歌吟是欣喜的歡唱還是離別的淚歌，因爲它是新秋精神的歌吟：鎮定、智慧、成熟。這種歌吟用微笑面對悲傷，讚頌那種令人振奮、敏銳而冷靜的神情——這種秋的精神在辛棄疾的筆下表現得最爲恰切： 少年不識愁滋味，愛上層樓。愛上層樓，爲賦新詞強說愁。 而今識盡愁滋味，欲說還休。欲說還休，卻道天涼好個秋。 佚　名　譯 Guide to the Essay 導讀 作者賽珍珠（Pearl S. Buck, 1892-1973）是著名的美國作家，人權和女權活動家。她的代表作包括：《東風·西風》（East Wind: West Wind, 1930）、《大地》（The Good Earth,1931）、《流亡者》（The Exile, 1936）等。 賽珍珠於1892年6月26日出生在美國弗吉尼亞州西部，出生四個月後即被身爲傳教士的雙親帶到中國。她先後在鎮江、宿州、南京、廬山等地生活和工作了近四十年，其中在鎮江生活了十八年，在那裏經歷了她人生的早期歲月，因此她稱鎮江是她的“中國故鄉”。1900年因中國北方發生義和團運動，賽珍珠首次回到美國故鄉，1902年重返中國鎮江。1917年5月13日，她與美國青年農學家卜凱（John Lossing Buck）結婚，婚後遷居安徽宿州。 1921年下半年，賽珍珠隨卜凱來到南京，受聘於美國教會所辦的金陵大學（1952年併入南京大學）。賽珍珠在金陵大學外語系任教，並先後在國立中央大學等校兼職教授教育學、英文等課。賽珍珠在其1935年出版的爲母親所寫的傳記《流亡者》中提及了自己的這段早年經歷。是年，她與卜凱離婚，並嫁給約翰·戴出版公司的所有人理查德·沃爾什（Richard J. Walsh）。 她以賽珍珠爲筆名創作的小說《大地》於1931年獲普利策獎，被評爲當年美國出版的最佳小說，也被認爲是賽珍珠關於中國的小說中最出色的一部。1938年，她獲得諾貝爾文學獎，諾貝爾頒獎委員會對她的評語是：“對中國農民生活進行了豐富與真實的史詩般描述，且在傳記方面有傑出作品。” 賽珍珠於1934年離開中國，但她一輩子都在傳播跨文化理解，加強中西之間的友好交流。1941年，她和丈夫一起創辦“東西方聯合會”（East and West Association），致力於亞洲與西方的文化理解與交流。1942年3月，她應美國之音、英國BBC電臺之邀，用漢語廣播向中國介紹美國人民如何理解支持中國人民的抗日戰爭。不久，她最後一次到中國，爲支持中國人民的抗日戰爭收集創作素材，進行深入宣傳。 1973年3月6日，賽珍珠逝世於美國佛蒙特州丹比城，骨灰安葬在賓夕法尼亞州費城郊區綠丘農莊，享年81歲。 《貧瘠的春天》選自賽珍珠的第一部短篇小說集《原配夫人和其他故事》（The First Wife and Other Stories，1933年約翰·戴出版公司出版），該小說集分爲三部分：探討老式傳統的中國方式和習俗與新的西方影響之間衝突的“新與舊”，描寫中國革命活動的“革命”，以及圍繞1931年長江嚴重水災而寫的“洪水”。本文選自“洪水”部分。 洪水過後的冬天鬧饑荒，農民老劉爲了讓一家人能活下來，喫掉了所有能喫的東西：在喫光所有糧食之後，他們喫掉了用來播種的種子，殺掉了耕地的水牛，甚至劈掉了犁來煮牛肉。儘管如此，他的老父老母和一雙兒女還是未能保住性命，被活活餓死了。寒冬過後，春天終於來了，這是萬物復甦的季節，這是播種的季節，但老劉卻什麼都沒有了，甚至連一粒種子也不剩！在一個原本充滿希望的春天，農民老劉的心裏只有絕望，對他來說這是一個“貧瘠的春天”。 賽珍珠的文字裏沒有吶喊，沒有評論，而是以洗練客觀的文字陳述事實、描寫細節，將中國農民遭遇洪水饑荒後的悲慘生活鋪陳在讀者面前，使讀者對他們的悽苦無奈產生強烈的共鳴和深切的同情。 L iu, the farmer, sat at the door of his one-room house. It was a warm evening in late February, and in his thin body he felt the coming of spring. How he knew that the time had now come when sap should stir in trees and life begin to move in the soil he could not have told himself. In other years it would have been easy enough. He could have pointed to the willow trees about the house, and shown the swelling buds.But there were no more trees now. He had cut them off during the bitter winter when they were starving for food and he had sold them one by one. Or he might have pointed to the pink-tipped buds of his three peach trees and his six apricot trees that his father had planted in his day so that now, being at the height of their time, they bore a load of fruit every year. But these trees were also gone. Most of all, in any other year than this hemight have pointed to his wheat fields, where he planted wheat in the winter when the land was not needed for rice, and where, when spring was moving into summer, he planted the good rice, for rice was his chief crop. But the land told nothing, this year. There was no wheat on it, for the flood had covered it long after wheat should have been planted, and it lay there cracked and like clay but newly dried. Well, on such a day as this, if he had his buffalo and his plow as he had always had in other years, he would have gone out and plowed up that cracked soil. He ached to plow it up and make it look like a field again, yes, even though he had not so much as one seed to put in it. But he had no buffalo. If anyone had told him that he would eat his own water buffalo that plowed the good land for him, and year after year pulled the stone roller over the grain and threshed it at harvest he would have called that man idiot. Yet it was what he had done. He had eaten his own water buffalo, he and his wife and his parents and his four children, they had all eaten the buffalo together. But what else could they do on that dark winter's day when the last of their store of grain was gone, when the trees were cut and sold, when he had sold everything, even the little they had saved from the flood, and there was nothing left except the rafters of the house they had and the garments they wore? Was there sense in stripping the coat off one's back to feed one's belly? Besides, the beast was starving also, since the water had covered even the grass lands, and they had had to go far afield to gather even enough to cook its bones and flesh. On that day when he had seen the faces of his old parents set as though dead, on that day when he had heard the crying of his children and seen his little daughter dying, such a despair had seized him as made him like a man without his reason, so that he had gathered together his feeble strength and he had done what he said he never would; he had taken the kitchen knife and gone out and killed his own beast. When he did it, even in his despair, he groaned, for it was as though he killed his own brother. To him it was the last sacrifice. Yet it was not enough. No, they grew hungry again and there was nothing left to kill. Many of the villagers went south to other places, or they went down the river to beg in the great cities. But he, Liu the farmer, had never begged. Moreover, it seemed to him then that they must all die and the only comfort left was to die on their own land. His neighbor had come and begged him to set forth with them; yes, he had even said he would carry one of the old parents on his back so that Liu might carry the other, seeing that his own old father was already dead. But Liu had refused, and it was well, for in the next two days the old mother was dead, and if she had died on the way he could only have cast her by the roadside lest the others be delayed and more of them die. As it was he could put her safely into their own ground, although he had been so weak that it had taken him three days to dig a hole deep enough for her little old withered body. And then before he could get her buried he and his wife had quarreled over the poor few clothes on the old body. His wife was a hard woman and she would have buried the old mother naked, if he had let her, so as to have the clothes for the children. But he made her leave on the inner coat and trousers; although they were only rags after all, and when he saw the cold earth against his old mother's flesh—well, that was sorrow for a man, but it could not be helped. Three more he had buried somehow, his old father and his baby daughter and the little boy who had never been strong. That was what the winter's famine had taken from them. It would have taken them all except that in the great pools lying everywhere, which were left from the flood, there were shrimps, and these they had eaten raw and were still eating, although they were all sick with a dysentery that would not get well. In the last day or so his wife had crawled out and dug a few sprouting dandelions. But there was no fuel and so they also were eaten raw. But the bitterness was good after the tasteless flesh of the raw shrimps. Yes, spring was coming. He sat on heavily, looking out over his land. If he had his buffalo back, if he had his plow that they had burned for fuel, he could plow the land. But when he thought of this as he did many times every day, he felt helpless as a leaf tossed upon the flood. The buffalo was gone; gone also his plow and every implement of wood and bamboo, and what other had he? Sometimes in the winter he had felt grateful that at least the flood had not taken all the house as it had so many other houses. But now suddenly it came to him that he could be grateful for nothing, no, not even that he had his life left him and the life of his wife and the two older children. He felt tears come into his eyes slowly as they had not even come when he buried his old mother and saw the earth fall against her flesh, bared by the rags which had comforted him that day. But now he was comforted by nothing. He muttered to himself. “I have no seed to plant in the land. There the land lies! I could go and claw it up with my hands if I had the seed and the land would bear. I know my good land. But I have no seed and the land is empty. Yes, even though spring comes, we must still starve!” And he looked, hopeless, into the barren spring.

花了很長時間才把這本書啃下來，很難想象這本西南聯大一年級英語教材編的如此精妙。每一篇文章都諶稱精品，值得我們細細讀，慢慢品，深深悟。不僅學習了語言表達，更重要的是領略了大師獨特的風采，他們的思維方式和思想結晶放至今日仍有很多共鳴。這也是我能持續讀下來的重要因素，而且也有一直想讀下去的衝動。值得強烈推薦！

嗶站“企鵝英語研習社”的精讀講解非常棒

發現寶藏！不過書難度不低！[發抖]

很好，老師教的東西，老師拿回來。

西南聯大英文課本可以照見英文教學歷史