2002 0101 SE FEATUREJane got up from under her warm bedcovers and faced the cold of her room.It was another New Year's Day.In the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror.Nothing had changed, except that the lines around her eyes and mouth looked deeper.Jane was 49 years old.She would be 50 this year.She did not feel old, only tired sometimes.What was age?Jane was simply and always herself, she felt.She did what she did every morning.She cleaned her teeth and washed herself.She then chose what to wear among the same five skirts and ten tops.She drank black coffee and went out the door as usual.Today, she was visiting her mother in an old people's home outside her city.She took the same bus to her mother's that she had taken to work every day for the last 15 years.Jane worked [Barnard &] Sons Company.It was not the best job; it was not the worst, either.She was now responsible for employing new workers.She made telephone calls, answered letters, and questioned new people about their skills.She had done this for long enough that she did it without really thinking.The new faces became one young empty face that knew so little.Jane, however, felt it was too late for her to change.There was Mr.Solomon walking down the street, his back was as straight as a ruler.He came out of his house at exactly the same time Jane did every day.He wore a black coat and carried a black umbrella.Every day, as if he lived in London, not Rockville, Maryland.He moved his head in silent greeting.She did the same as always.They passed each other by, like clock hands moving, like machines.Jane thought of herself.Where was he going on a holiday, to work?What would happen if she broke the unspoken rule and said "good morning" to him? Would he answer? Would he smile? Could he smile at all? She did not think so.But she did not say anything.Down the road, came a red hair woman walking her dog.Jane did not know her name even though she saw her every day, too.The woman always said, "Down, doggy down!"The dog did not listen to its owner.It jumped here and there.Every morning, Jane silently questioned how someone could name her dog "doggy".And every morning, Jane noted she thought that exact thought every time.Why not say "happy new year" to each other like normal people?But, the woman never looked away from her restless dog so Jane passed by as usual.It was winter, cold and dry.There was no sign of snow.The tree at the end of the road had no leaves.Its branches looked cold and lonely.Jane let out a heavy breath and pulled her coat closer around her.She did not want to look at the house nearest the bus stop, old Mr.[] was always there looking out of his window.He never changed from the clothes he wore to bed.He looked like he had failed to sleep and was sad and angry.Jane had learned to avoid his hard eyes.They seemed to accuse her of having somewhere to go when he did not.

"Poor old man," Jane thought, "he has to live through the start has yet another year."She looked away and walked faster.Luckily, her bus arrived on time.All these drove out there make Jane think of her mother.She was 92 years old.She and Jane were the only ones left in the family.Her father and brother had died five years apart more than ten years ago.Jane's mother, too, had grown old and weak.She broke her hipbone two years ago, and now could not move around easily.Arthritis caused her bones to hurt.Her mind moved from idea to idea.She forgot almost everything but her childhood.She needed someone to take care of her all the time.But Jane had to work to support them both.So her mother agreed to live in an old people's home.Thankfully, she liked it because she was with people her own age.Jane visited her mother every Sunday afternoon.On Saturdays, Jane saw a movie or a play with her good friend, Stella.Jane liked plays about love, marriage and family life.Stella did not.She said it was all talk.Jane answered, "Well, what else can a play be?"Stella liked movies with a lot of action, car chasing and shooting.They argued about the violence."What is it all for?" Jane asked."It is only a movie," Stella replied laughing, "Afterwards, you feel glad you have a quiet life, don't you?"They kept on going together to plays and movies so that each one would not feel alone.Staying home would not be considered healthy.Jane made sure her work kept her busy all week.Other than that, she read books and watched television.She avoided the silent question at the back of her mind.Was this enough?The bus reached Jane's bus stop.The driver said with lots of energy -- happy New Year ma'am.Jane wanted to ask him if he liked working on a holiday.She wanted to ask him if he liked driving down the same roads day after day after day.But, she did not.Jane got off the bus and walked into the prime of life home.Her mother smiled widely when she saw her."Happy new year! I'm so happy to see you," her mother said."You knew I was coming," Jane answered.Her mother continued happily, "It's such a lovely morning, isn't it? I never thought I'd live to see 2000.""It's 2002, mom.""Oh, is it? How wonderful! Aren't you so glad to be alive?""Well, I suppose so." Jane would not force herself to be happy just because her mother was."Anyway, you've seen quite a lot of new years, haven't you?"Her mother laughed like a young girl. "Now -- now, my age is my secret.""Don't be silly, I know how old you are! And calling today new year doesn't make a difference. It's just another day.""Jane, you are just like your father. I had to teach him how to smile. Come, come outside, and I want to show you something.""It really is cold outside, mom, you'll get sick.""But nurse lets me go out, come on."Her mother leaned on to Jane; and they walked out slowly.The cold air was fresh.

The sun was shining bright and clear."Oh, look!" her mother said pointing to the sky.Her eyes were shining like a child's."Where, what? Did you see that huge white bird, so high and still against the blue sky? It looked so balanced."Her mother let out a soft breath.Jane looked around, "I missed it.""Stop!" her mother said."What now?" her mother tried to reach down, "pick up that stone for me, that big blue one.""This one? It looks gray to me." Jane picked it up and gave it to her mother.She rubbed the stone clean with her coat, then held it up to the sun."Look, Jane, have you ever seen this kind of blue?""It's just a stone.""Of course not. It doesn't look like any other. How do you think it got here? It must have come from far away, across oceans, right here to us. Imagine that! It looks so pure. It must be valuable.""Oh, I see. You think you can sell it."They both laughed."Mom, really the cold is going to kill us."Jane tried to pull her mother toward the door."Wait, Jane. Close your eyes."Her mother had always liked these childish games.But Jane thought she was getting worse.The only way to stop her was to do what she asked."Ok, they are closed, so what?""Wait, now open them."Her mother had placed the stone right in front of Jane's face.The sun shone just behind it.That closed for a moment. It looked like a jewel, shining and smooth.Jane could not stop herself, "Ah -- Ah!"She forgot herself and got lost in the blue light."This is a new kind of blue, isn't it?" her mother said softly.They continued looking in wonder."There are so many new things around us.""Ok, mom," Jane said, "let us look for them inside, please, before we die of cold."They walked back into the home, laughing.Jane kept the blue stone tight in her hand.It was like a secret.You have just heard the special story for New Year's Day, "A New Kind of Blue."It is written by [Dowling Bangana].This story is copyrighted.All rights reserved.Your storyteller was Shirley Griffith.The producer was Caty Weaver, and our engineer was Mick Shaw.

2002 0105 SE FEATURE1.fungus n -gi 或 -guses真菌 海绵肿；真菌状肿 突然长出的东西A fungus of ugly little houses sprang up. 突然出现一排难看的小屋。2.perfect lens 理想透镜3.nights adv.夜间(=at night,=by night)4.gast v.使惊讶5.Leeuwenhoek列文虎克(Anton van, 1632-1723, 荷兰博物学家, 显微镜创制者)6.carat n 克拉（宝石重量单位） 开（含纯金的量）7.let us forget all this over a bottle of Burgundy.over a bottle adv.边喝酒 一面喝酒, 一面...8.as ever 依旧, 仍然We will tell the story in two parts.Now, here is Morris(Maurice) Joyce with Part One of "The Diamond Lens."When I was ten years old, one of my older cousins gave me a microscope.The first time, I looked through its magic lens.The clouds that surrounded my daily life rolled away.I saw a universe of tiny, living creatures in a drop of water.Day after day, night after night, I studied life under my microscope.The fungus that spoiled my mother's jam, was, for me, a land of magic gardens.I would put one of those buds of green mould under my microscope and see beautiful forests where strange silver and golden fruit hung from the branches of tiny trees.I felt as if I had discovered another garden of Eden.Although I didn't tell anyone about my secret world, I decided to spend my life studying the microscope.My parents had other plans for me.When I was nearly twenty years old, they insisted that I learned a profession, even though we were a rich family and I really didn't have to work at all.I decided to study medicine in New York.This city was far away from my family, so I could spend my time as I pleased.As long as I paid my medical school fees every year, my family would never know I wasn't attending any classes.In New York, I would be able to buy excellent microscopes and meet scientists from all over the world.I would have a plenty of money and a plenty of time to spend on my dream.I left home with high hopes.Two days after I arrived in New York, I found a place to live.It was large enough for me to use one of the rooms as my laboratory.I filled this room with expensive scientific equipment, and I did not know how to use.By the end of my first year in the city, I had become an expert with the microscope.I also had become more and more unhappy.The lens in my expensive microscope was still not strong enough to answer my questions about life.I imagined there were still secrets in nature that the limited power of my equipment prevented me from knowing.I lay awake nights wishing to find the perfect lens and instrument of a great-magnifing power.Such lens would permit me to see life in the smallest parts of its development.I was sure that the powerful lens like that could be built.And I spent my second year in New York trying to create it.Experimented with every kind of material, I tried simple glass, crystal and even precious stones.But I always found myself back where I started.My parents were angry at the lack of progress in my medical studies.

I had not gone to one class since arriving in New York.Also, I expended a lot of money on my experiments.One day, while I was working in my laboratory, Jules Simon knocked at my door.He lived in the apartment just above mine.I knew he loved jewelry, expensive clothing and good living.There was something mysterious about him, too.He always had something to sell, a painting, a rare statue, an expensive pair of lamps.I never understood why Simon did this.He didn't seem to need the money.He had many friends among the best families of New York.Simon was very excited as he came into my laboratory."Oh! My dear, fellow," he gusted, "I have just seen the most amazing thing in the world."He told me he'd gone to visit a woman, who had strange magical powers.She could speak to the dead and read the minds of the living.To test her, Simon had written some questions about himself on a piece of paper.The woman, Madame Vulpes, had answered all of the questions correctly.Hearing about this woman gave me an idea.Perhaps, she would be able to help me discover the secret of a perfect lens.Two days later, I went to her house; Madame Vulpes was an ugly woman with sharp, cruel eyes.She didn't say a word to me when she opened the door, but took me right into her living room.We sat down at a large round table, and she spoke, "what do you want from me.""I want to speak to a person who died many years before I was born.""Put your hands on the table."We sat there for several minutes.The room grew darker and darker.But Madame Vulpes did not turn on any lights.I began to feel a little silly.Then I felt a series of violent knocks.They shook the table, the back of my chair, the floor under my feet and even the windows.Madame Vulpes smiled."They are very strong tonight. You are lucky. They want you to write down the name of the spirit you wish to talk to."I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote down a name.I didn't show it to Madame Vulpes.After a moment, Madame Vulpes' hand began to shake so hard the table moved.She said a spirit was now holding her hand and would write me a message.I gave her paper and a pencil.She wrote something and gave the paper to me.The message read, "I am here. Question me."It was signed "Leeuwenhoek."I couldn't believe my eyes.The name was the same one I had written on my piece of paper.I was sure that an ignorant woman like Madame Vulpes would not know who Leeuwenhoek was.Why would she know the name of the man who invented the microscope?Quickly, I wrote a question on another piece of paper."How can I create the perfect lens?"Leeuwenhoek wrote back, "find a diamond of 140 carats. Give it a strong electrical charge. The electricity will change the diamond's atoms. From that stone, you can form the perfect lens."I left Madame Vulpes' house in a state of painful excitement.Where would I find the diamond that large?All my family's money could not buy a diamond like that.And even if I had enough money I knew that such diamonds are very difficult to find.When I came home, I saw a light in Simon's window.I climbed the stairs to his apartment, and went in without knocking.Simon's back was toward me as he bent over a lamp.He looked as if he was carefully studying a small object in his hands.As soon as he heard me enter, he put the object in his pocket.His face became red.And he seemed very nervous."What are you looking at," I asked.Simon didn't answer me.Instead, he laughed nervously and told me to sit down.I couldn't wait to tell him my news."Simon! I have just come from Madame Vulpes. She gave me some important information that will help me find the perfect lens. If only I could find a diamond that weighs 140 carats!"My words seemed to change Simon into a wild animal.He rushed to a small table and grasped a long, thin knife."No!" he shouted, "you won't get my treasure. I will die before I give it to you.""My dear, Simon," I said, "I don't know what you are talking about. I went to Madame Vulpes to ask her for help with a scientific problem. She told me I needed an enormous diamond. You could not possibly own a diamond that large. If you did, you would be very rich and you wouldn't be living here."He stared at me for a second, and then he laughed and apologized."Simon," I suggested, "let us drink some wine and forget all of this. I have two bottles downstairs in my apartment. What do you think?""I like your idea," he said.I brought the wine to his apartment and we began to drink.By the time we had finished the first bottle, Simon was very sleepy and very drunk.I felt as calm as ever for I believed that I knew Simon's secret.

Today, we will hear the second and final part of the story.Here is Morris Joyce with Part Two of "The Diamond Lens."When I was a child, someone gave me a microscope.I spent hours looking through that microscope exploring nature's tiny secrets.As I grew up, I became more interested in my microscope than in people.When I was 20 years old, my parents sent me to New York City to study medicine.I never went to any of my classes.Instead, I spent all my time and a lot of my money trying to build the perfect microscope.I wanted to make a powerful lens that would let me see even the smallest parts of life.But all my experiments failed.Then one day, I met a young man who lived in the apartment above mine.Jules Simon told me about a woman who could speak to the dead.When I visited Madame Vulpes, she let me speak to the spirit of the man who invented the microscope.The spirit of Anton Leeuwenhoek told me how to make a perfect lens from a diamond of 140 carats.But where could I find the diamond that big?When I returned home, I went to Simon's apartment.He was surprised to see me and tried to hide a small object in his pocket.I wanted to discover what it was.So, I brought two bottles of wine to his apartment.We began to drink.By the time we had finished the first bottle, Simon was very drunk."Simon, I know you have a secret. Why don't you tell me about it?" Something in my voice must have made he feel safe, he made me promise to keep his secret.Then he took a small box from his pocket.When he opened it, I saw a large diamond shaped like a rose [of shivered] white light seemed to come from deep inside the diamond.Simon told me he'd stolen the diamond from a man in South America.He said it weighed exactly 140 carats.Excitement shocked my body."I could not believe my luck. On the same evening, that the spirit of Leeuwenhoek tells me the secret of the perfect lens, I find the diamond I need to create it."I decided to steal Simon's treasure.I sat across the table from him as he drank another glass of wine.I knew I could not simply steal the diamond Simon would call the police.There was only one way to get the diamond -- I had to kill Simon.Everything I needed to murder Simon was right there in his apartment.A bottle full of sleeping powder was on the table near his bed.A long, thin knife laid on the table.Simon was so busy looking at his diamond that I was able to put the drug in his glass quite easily.He fell asleep in 15 minutes.I put his diamond in my pocket and carried Simon to the bed.I wanted to make a police think Simon had killed himself.I picked up Simon's long, thin knife and stared down at him.I tried to imagine exactly how the knife would enter Simon's heart if he were holding the knife himself.I pushed the knife deep into his heart.I heard a sound come from his throat like the bursting of a large bubble.His body moved and his right hand grasped the handle of the knife.

He must have died immediately.I washed out glasses and took the two wine bottles away with me.I left the lights on, closed the door and went back to my apartment.Simon's death was not discovered until three o'clock the next day.One of the neighbors knocked at his door.And when there was no answer, she called the police.They discovered Simon's body on the bed.The police questioned everyone.But they did not learn the truth.The police finally decided Jules Simon had killed himself.And soon, everyone forgot about him.I had committed the perfect crime.For three months after Simon's death, I worked day and night on my diamond lens.At last, the lens was done.My hands shocked as I put a drop of water on a piece of glass.Carefully, I added some oil to the water to prevent it from drying.I turned on a strong light under the glass and looked through the diamond lens.For a moment, I saw nothing in that drop of water.And then, I saw a pure, white light.Carefully, I moved the lens of my microscope closer to the drop of water.Slowly, the white light began to change.It began to form shapes.I could see clouds and wonderful trees and flowers.These plants were the most unusual colors -- bright reds, greens, purples as well as silver and gold.The branches of these trees moved slowly in a soft wind.Everywhere I looked, I could see fruits and flowers of a thousand different colors."How strange," I thought, "that this beautiful place has no animal life in it."Then, I saw something moving slowly among the brightly color trees and bushes.The branches of a purple and silver bush were gently pushed aside.And there, before my eye, stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.She was perfect; pink skin, large blue eyes and long golden hair that fell over her shoulders to her knees.She stepped away from the rainbow color trees like a flower floating on water.She drifted through the air.Watching her move was like listening to the sound of tiny bells ringing in the wind.She went to the rainbow color trees and looked up at one of them.The tree moved one of its branches that were full of fruit.It lowered a branch to her and she took one of the fruits.She turned it in her tiny hands and began to eat.How I wished I had the power to enter that bright light and float with her through those beautiful forests.Suddenly, I realized I had fell in love with this tiny creature.I loved someone who would never love me back, someone who was a prisoner in a drop of water.I ran out of the room, threw myself on my bed and cried till I fell asleep.Day after day, I returned to my microscope to watch her. I never left my apartment.I rarely even ate or slept.One day as usual, I went to my microscope ready to watch my love.She was there, but a terrible change had taken place.Her face had become thin and she could hardly walk.The wonderful light in her golden hair and blue eyes was gone.At that moment, I would have given my soul to become as small as she, and enter her world to help her.What was causing her to be so sick?She seemed in great pain.I watched her for hours helpless and alone with my breaking heart.She grew weaker and weaker.The forest also was changing.The trees were losing their wonderful colors.Suddenly, I realized I had not look at the drop of water for several days.I had looked into it with the microscope, but not added it.As soon as I looked at the glass under the microscope, I understood the horrible truth.I'd forgotten to add more oil to the drop of water to stop it from drying.The drop of water had disappeared.I rushed again to look through the lens.The rainbow forests were all gone.My love lay in a spot of weak light.Her pink body was dried and wrinkled.Her eyes were blackest dust.Slowly, she disappeared forever.I fainted and woke many hours later on pieces of my microscope.I'd fallen on it when I fainted.My mind was as broken as the diamond lens.I crawled to my bed and withdrew from the world.When I finally got better months later, all my money was gone.People now say I am crazy.They call me, "Linley, the mad scientist."No one believes I spoke to the spirit of Leeuwenhoek.They laugh when I tell them how I killed Jules Simon and stole his diamond to make the perfect lens.They think I never saw that beautiful world in the drop of water.But I know the truth of the diamond lens.And now so do you.

1.guinea pig n.[动]豚鼠, 天竺鼠= cavy 供作实验的人或物He was used as a guinea pig for the new drug. 他被用于进行新药品的实验。[豚鼠，天竺鼠一种体小、短耳的 豚鼠属家禽啮齿类动物，毛杂色、尾短几不可见。常被作为宠物饲养，亦被用来做实验]**guinea n. 几尼（英国的旧金币，值一镑一先令）几内亚2.claims department 索赔处, 理赔部3.airy adj airier, airiest 通风的 装腔作势的 空洞的；空虚的 快活的；空气的；像空气的4.go out of one's mind 发疯5.wired back 布线背面wire n.金属丝, 电线, 电报, 电信, 铁丝网 vt.用金属丝卷起, 拍电报 vi.打电报Agent Flannery wired back--6.Flannery ran all the way to the Morehouse home.all the way adv.从远道, 自始至终, 一路上 沿路 从远处, 特地 7.as plain as the nose on one's face清清楚楚地看见,一清二楚Now the weekly Special English program AMERICAN STORIES.Our story today is called "Pigs is Pigs."It was written by Ellis Parker Butler.Here is Shep O'Neal with the story.Mike Flannery, the agent of the Interurban Express Company, leaned over the desk in the company office in Westcote and shook his fist.Mr.Morehouse, angry and red, stood on the other side of the desk shaking with fury.The argument had been long and hot.At last Mr.Morehouse had become speechless.The cause of the trouble lay on the desk between the two men.It was a box with two guinea-pigs inside."Do as you like, then!" shouted Flannery, "pay for them and take them, or don't pay for them and leave them here. Rules are rules, Mr.Morehouse, and Mike Flannery is not going to break them.""But, you stupid idiot!" shouted Mr.Morehouse, madly shaking a thin book beneath the agent's nose, "can't you read it here-in your own book of transportation rates? 'Pets, domestic, Franklin to Westcote, if correctly boxed, 25 cents each.'"He threw the book on the desk."What more do you want? Aren't they pets? Aren't they domestic? Aren't they correctly boxed? What?"He turned and walked back and forth rapidly with a furious look on his face."Pets," he said "P-e-t-s! 25 cents each. Two times 25 is 50! Can you understand that? I offer you 50 cents."Flannery reached for the book.He ran his hand through the pages and stopped at page 64."I don't take 50 cents," he whispered in a none-pleasant voice. "Here's the rule for it. 'When the agent be in any doubt about which two rates should be charged on a shipment. He shall charge the larger. The person receiving the shipment may put in a claim for the overcharge. In this case, Mr.Morehouse, I be in doubt. Pets them animals may be, and domestic they may be. But pigs I'm sure they do be, and my rule says plain as the nose on your face, 'Pigs Franklin to Westcote, 30 cents each.'"Mr.Morehouse shook his head savagely."Nonsense!" he shouted, "confounded nonsense, I tell you! That rule means common pigs, not guinea-pigs!""Pigs is pigs," Flannery said firmly.Mr.Morehouse bit his lip and then flung his arms out wildly."Very well!" he shouted, "you shall hear of this! Your president shall hear of this! It is an outrage! I have offered you 50 cents. You refuse it! Keep the pigs until you are ready to take the 50 cents, but, by George, sir, if one hair of those pigs' heads is harmed I will have the law on you!"

1.gin n.陷阱, 起重装, 轧棉机, 杜松子酒 v.轧Now the Special English program American Stories.Our story today is called "The Yellow Cat."It was written by Wilbur Daniel Steele.Here is Larry West with the Story.Once, when I was a sailor, the ship I was on found an empty boat floating at sea.The name of the abandoned boat was "The Marian Net".My captain sent me and some men to the boat to investigate.We searched it from top to bottom.Its captain and crew were gone.All we found was a bird in the cage.And I was 20 years ago(?old), I'v forgotten about that until this morning.When I was reading my newspaper, on the second page, I saw a story about the boat "The Abu Rose."A ship "The Mercury" had found it's empty last week.The newspaper said The Abu Rose was in perfect order.Everything was in its place.But there were no sign of the boat's captain and his crew of whole sailors.The only living creature on The Abu Rose was a yellow cat.The newspaper said the boat was now in our port.A [sail] seaman from The Mercury Steward McCord had sailed in last night.I knew Steward McCord.Years ago, Steward McCord and I had sailed together on many voyage around the world.I remembered he had lived in China for a while.He'd told me stories about the Chinese and their ancient civilization.I decided to visit McCord after work.I hired an old boatman to take me out to The Aru Rose.It was dark when we reached the boat.I called, "McCord! McCord!"A voice answered, "Who is there?"I yelled at him, "Tom Richway.""Who?""Yellow shipmate Tom Richway.""Oh! My God," he shouted then, "Am I glad to see you, Richway!"McCord helped pull me up.When I stood beside him on the deck, he snapped me on the arm and said, "Come! Have a drink with me!"I followed him down below into the boat's cabin.It was divided into three rooms where the captain and crew ate and slept.What I thought seemed familiar to me."Give me a match," I said.I scratched the match against one of the cabin doors.With the light from its dim flame, I found it.A rusty little hook [stopped] in a corner of the ceiling."That it is," I said, "McCord! Was there a bird cage hanging from this hook?""What are you mean?" McCord demanded.I looked at him, "do you know anything about this boat's history?""No," he answered, "why?""What I do," I told him, "for one thing, they changed her name. She used to be called The Marian Net. And this is the first time she's been found without the crew. Twenty years ago, I helped pick up the same boat. Her captain and crew had disappeared."McCord leaned forward."I'm surprised," he said [finally], "after what I'd seen and heard."He lifted his [ fi] brought down with us sudden crush on the table."Man," he said, "let's have a drink."He poured gin into two glasses.He swallowed his drink in one gulp and sat down."A bird," he said strangely, his face getting on a little color from the gin, "Richway, this time there was a cat -- a yellow cat, the only living thing on board.""Where is it?" I asked."It's disappeared," he said.McCord poured himself another drink and pointed to a book on the table.It was the boat's log.The captain had written in it everyday before he disappeared."I found the log hidden under the captain's bed," McCord said, "and after reading it, I can understand why he hid it.""Why?" I asked."Because the captain worried out killed the boat's Chinese cook. Listen to what he wrote in the log on August 2nd. 'Anything can happen to a man at sea, even a funeral, especially if he is a Chinese barbarian. I can never hear him coming in those [slept] wares. I turned away this morning and found him standing behind me. He could [] a knife in my back and I would not [] him. So I hid among my head and told them that walk louder next time.'"McCord turned a few pages of the captain's log."Here is more," he said, "August fifth. 'The men don't want to eat any food that this Chinese barbanian cooks. They think he is planning to kill [] all. John said he thought the cook making strange sign over the soup [] last night. Bob said the Chinese stole his gun.'"McCord said, "think about it Richway. Here is a Chinese cook 8,000 miles from home. He is alone on a boat in the middle of ocean with men who want to kill him. I feel sorry for the poor Shara. The only one more interested after that, listen: 'this is the end. Now, my gun is gone, too. I spoke to the crew this morning. And we have decided to act.'"McCord closed the book."That is all of this," he said, "the rest is blank paper.""Well," I said, "I solve this mystery. When the crew attacked the Chinese cook, he shut[] threw their bodies over board."McCord stood up."[It meant] what happened?" he asked.**Arranged by 独居石 and David**

.farther on更远些 再往前些 (书中说明等)在后面, 在下面2.water n 水 潮位；水位high water 高潮位low water 低潮位(pl) 海域 the distant waters 远海海域the near waters 近海海域 (pl) 河水；湖水the waters of the Huanghe River 黄河河水 (pl) 矿泉水 美国故事：海龟2002 0202 SE FEATURE: The TurtleNow the VOA Special English program American Stories.Today's story is called, "The Turtle."It was written by George Vukelich.Here is Shep O'Neal with the story.Old Joe and his son Tony were on their way to White River to catch some fish.They started on the trip long before the sun came up.Old Joe drove the car.Tony slept in the back seat.Joe enjoyed looking at the empty city streets in the early morning.The cool wind blew pieces of paper across the dark road.These days he often felt as empty as the streets.As he grew older, loneliness became a close friend who was always with him.Outside the city, Joe drove slowly down the river road.The dark sky began to grow lighter.He looked down at his hands and took a deep breath.Not long ago, he had worked hard with those hands, but now, they did not do much--just drive the car and hold a fishing stick.Farther on he saw something in the middle of road.He stopped the car.Tony sat up in the back seat."What's wrong?" he asked in a sleepy voice, "what are we stopping for?"Old Joe pushed the head forward to see what blocked the road.He turned on the brightest car lights."It's one of those fish-killing turtles," he said, "The big one, too."Tony opened his eyes wide and looked at the strange thing.It was the biggest turtle he had ever seen."Is it dead?" he asked.The two men got out of the car and stood looking down at the turtle.It looked like a large green rock.Suddenly, it moved a little and left sharp marks in the dirt.Then it stopped."Probably going to the river," Tony said, "these turtles kill fish--especially trout."They watched it."I could crush him under the wheels of the car," Tony said, "but he is too big."He looked around and walked to the side of the road.He came back with a long stick.He pushed it in the turtle's face.With one quick movement the turtle bit the stick and broke it into little pieces."Look at that," Tony said softly, "as strong as a machine.""He sure is," old Joe said and moved back, "he must weigh 100 pounds--maybe more."The turtle pushed his ugly head toward the men."He thinks there is going to be a fight," Tony said, "I wish I had brought my gun.""You are not going to kill him, are you?" old Joe asked."Why not?" Tony said, "Turtles kill our fish, don't they? The more trout they eat, the less we can catch."They both lit cigarettes and stood there smoking and looking at the turtle.It had pulled its head inside, under the hard cover on his back."There is a heavy tool in the car. I can hit him with it," Tony said, "but it is too short. I do not want to put my hand near him--he might try to bite it off."

Old Joe said nothing."You watch him," Tony said, "and I'll go find something heavy and strong in the back of the car."Slowly Joe got closer to the turtle.He smoked and looked at it."Poor old thing," he said, "it is sad to be caught. Now you will be killed."The turtle pushed a foot out of its hard cover.Old Joe looked at its foot with its sharp cutting claws."It would be different in the water, wouldn't it, turtle?"he said. "In the water you could cut down your enemies with those sharp claws."He thought about the turtle in the water.It would probably move as fast as a bullet from a gun.Nothing would try to fight it in the water.Yet here it was--in the middle of a dirt road--as helpless as a baby.Old Joe dropped his cigarette.Now why was he getting so excited about a turtle?He was an old man and he was acting like a child.They were going to White River to catch fish and he was worrying about a turtle.His son, Tony, came back from the car holding a heavy tool."I think this is long enough," he said, "what do you think?""Do you care what I think?" Old Joe said.Tony answered, "You are worrying about something. What's wrong, Dad?""This is not right---" Old Joe said slowly and carefully.The young man was surprised."What--what do you mean?""The turtle does not have a chance," Old Joe said, "I do not feel good about killing it.""You talk like an old woman," Tony said, "a tired old woman!"Old Joe did not look at his son, but said: "I can understand how the turtle feels. It must be terrible to have no hope.""You think he does not have a chance," Tony asked."How could he," answered the old man quietly, "while you have such a heavy weapon."Tony shook his father's arm."And that worries you?" he asked.Old Joe looked deep into Tony's eyes."That is right," he said, "it worries me.""We'll love all the foolish things," Tony answered, "what do you want me to do? Get down on my hands and knees, and frighten?""No," said his father, "not on your hands and knees. In the water, fight this turtle in the water, where he is at home. That would be a brave thing, my son."Tony put the weapon down.He looked at the turtle for a long time.At last he said, "I think you sit back."Old Joe smiled: "This(It) is the thought my son just a thought. This old one is weak here on the dirt road. But in the water, he could cut down anyone, anything, even a man. Fight him in the water, Tony. Use your weapon in the water.""The year has changed you," Tony said.Old Joe shook his head, "This does not seem fair to you yet to be in the water with this one?" He pointed to the turtle: "This seems foolish to you because in the water he could hurt you. Perhaps he'll even kill you because in the water you are not as strong as he is."Tony looked at his father, "What are you trying to prove, Dad?""Tony," his father said, "you could kill the turtle here and you will lose nothing--not a finger or a hand or your life--nothing! You can crush him with that weapon and he cannot hit you.""So," asked Tony.Old Joe put an arm around the son's broad shoulders."So," he answered, "I want you to fight down restless. You should have something to lose, too."Tony looked at his father and then backed at the turtle."Any fool can kill a turtle here." old Joe said, "it is easy.""Dad," Tony said, "it is only a turtle. You're making it a --a big thing."Joe dropped his hands to his sides."All right," he said, "do what you like. I'll say nothing more."Tony threw the tool into the car.It made a loud crashing sound."All right!" he shouted angrily, "all right! You win.""No," his father said, "I do not win. You, you win.""But Dad," Tony argued, "they do kill fish.""Yes!" agreed old Joe, "they kill fish. Nature lets them do it. The turtle kills fish to eat and live. We kill fish too--we men. Do we kill them so we can live? No. we do it for fun. This old turtle takes what he needs. I do not kill him. I do not act like God."Tony got into the driver's seat and laughed."Dad, Ah--, you have strange ideas."Old Joe walked around behind the turtle and gently pushed it with his shoe.The turtle went forward across the road and into the tall grass.He was going toward the river.Joe watched until he could not see that turtle any longer.Then he got into the car beside his son.The two men sat and looked at each other.The sun was coming out strong now and the sky was bright.Tony started the engine.Old Joe brought out his cigarettes.They sat and smoked and looked at each other.Then they started to smile.The car moved slowly along the dirt road toward the morning sun.They did not stop until they reached the quiet waters of White River.**Arranged by 独居石 and David**

1.wanderlust [德]旅行[流浪]癖 旅游热；流浪癖2.cypress n.[植]柏科树的, 柏木属植物(原产北美、欧、亚), 柏树枝(用作哀悼的标志)3.green (pl) 青菜，蔬菜4.the Charlotte Hornets 夏洛特黄蜂5.partway v.到中途, 到达一半 到某种程度或距离地；部分地：partway to town; not even partway reasonable.去镇上的途中；甚至一点儿都不合理Now, the VOA Special English program American Story.Our story today is called, "Wanderlust."It was written by American reporter, Charles Kuralt.It is from his book, "A Life on the Road."The word "wanderlust" means the strong desire to travel.For many years, Mr.Kuralt traveled across America telling interesting stories about Americans.His reports were broadcast on the CBS television network.In the beginning of his book, there is a poem by Scottish writer Robert Lewis Stevenson.It describes Mr.Kuralt's wanderlust.It says --Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I ask, the heaven above And the road below me.In the following story, Charles Kuralt tells how he began his traveling life.Before I was born, I went on the road.The road was Highway 17.It went from the city of Jacksonville to the city of Wilmington in North Carolina.That is where the hospital was.My father backed the car of its place in the barn.He helped my mother into the front seat.It was 1934.My father made the trip to Wilmington in little more than an hour.He hardly slowed down for stop signs in the town along the way.I was born the next morning with traveling in my blood.I had already gone 80 kilometers.We lived on my grandparents' farm for a while during the great economic depression of the 1930s.There was a sandy road in front and the path through the pine trees behind.I always wondered where the road went.After I learned that the one in front went to another farm, I wondered where it went from there.In back, playing among the pine trees, I once surprised some wild turkeys.They went flying down the path and out of sight.I remember wanting to go with them.My mother was a teacher.My father had planned to become a big businessman.But he became a social worker instead.He helped poor people.He got a job with the state government.His job took us from one town to another.I loved every move.I began to find out where the roads went.Since my mother was busy teaching school, somebody had to take care of me.The answer to the problem caused a little trouble for my father, I imagine.But it was perfect in my opinion.He took me with him on his trips.As we rolled along the country roads, my father told me stories.We stopped in the afternoons to fish for a few minutes in little rivers turned black by the acid of cypress trees.We stopped in the evenings to eat meals of pork, sweet potatoes and greens.Then, we rolled on into the night looking for a place to sleep, just the two of us, rolling on in a cloud of friendly company and smoke from his cigar.

美国故事：绞刑架下的遐想2002 0223 SE FEATURE:An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge《奥尔河桥的一次事件》And American short story in Special English.Today story is called, "An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge."It was written by Ambrose Bierce.The "occurrence" or "event" in our story takes place during the war of the 1860's between the American states of the North and the states of the South.A group of soldiers is hanging a southern farm owner for trying to stop northern military movement across the Owl Creek Bridge.In the last moment of his life, the southern prisoner dreamed he had escaped.And everything would happen in the story is really only the images in the prisoner's brain just before he dies.Here is Shep O'Neal with our story.A man stood on a railroad bridge in Alabama, looking down into the swift waters of the Owl Creek River below.The man's hands were tied behind his back.There was a rope around his neck.The rope was tied to part of the bridge above him.Three soldiers of the northern army stood near the prisoner, waiting for their captain's orders to hang him.Everybody was ready.The prisoner stood quietly.His eyes were not covered.He looked down and saw the water under the bridge.Now, he closed his eyes.He wanted his last thoughts to be of his wife and children.But as he tried to think of them, he heard sounds again and again.The sounds were soft but they got louder and louder, and started to hurt his ears.The pain was strong,; he wanted to shout.But the sound he heard was just low of the river running swiftly under the bridge.The prisoner quickly opened his eyes and looked at the water."If I could only free my hands," he thought, "then I could get the rope off my neck and jump into the river. I could swim under the water and escape the fire of their guns. I could reach the other side of the river and get home through the forest. My house is outside of their military area. And my wife and children are safe there. I would be, too."While these thoughts raised through the prisoner's mind, the captain gave the soldiers the order to hang him.A soldier quickly obeyed.He made the rope firm around the prisoner's neck.Then he dropped in through a hole in the bridge.As the prisoner felt everything seem black and empty, but then he felt a sharp pain in his neck, and could not breathe.There were terrible pains running from his neck down through his body, his arms and his legs.He could not think.He could only feel a feeling of living in the world of pain.Then suddenly, he heard a noise--something falling into the water.There was a big sound in his ears.Everything around him was cold and dark.Now, he could think.He believed the rope had broken and that he was in the river.But the rope was still around his neck.And his hands were tied.He thought, "How funny! How funny to die of hanging at the bottom of the river."Then he felt his body moving up to the top of the water.

The prisoner did not know what he was doing.But his hands reached the rope on his neck and tore it off.Now, he felt the most violent pain he had ever known.He wanted to put the rope back on his neck.He tried but could not.His hands beat the water and pushed him up to the top.His head came out of the water.The light of the sun hurt his eyes.His mouth opened and he swallowed the air.It was too much for his lungs.He blew out the air with a scream.Now the prisoner could think more clearly.All his senses had returned.They were even sharper than before.He heard sounds he never heard before that no man's ears ever heard--the flying wings of small insects, the movement of the fish.His eyes saw more than just the trees along the river.They saw every leaf on the trees.And they saw the thin lives in the leaves.And he saw the bridge with the wall at one end.He saw the soldiers and the captain on the bridge.They shouted and they pointed at him.They looked like giant monsters as he looked he heard gunfire.Something hit the water near his head.Now, there was a second shot.He saw one soldier shooting at him.He knew he had to get to the forests and escaped.He heard an officer called to the other soldiers to shoot.The prisoner went down into the river deep as far as he could.The water made a great noise in his ears, but he heard the shots.As he came up to the top again, he saw the bullets hit the water.Some of them touched his face and hands, one even fell into the top of his shirt.He felt the heat of the bullet on his back.When his head came out of the water for air, he saw that he was farther away from the soldiers.And he began swimming strongly.As he swam, the soldiers fired their rifles.Then they fired their cannon at him.But nothing hit him.Then suddenly, he could not swim.He was caught in a whirlpool, which kept turning him around and around."This was the end," he thought.Then just as suddenly as it had caught him, the whirlpool lifted him and threw him out of the river.He was on land.He kissed the ground.He looked around him.There was a pink light in the air.The wind seemed to make music as it blew through the trees.He wanted to stay there.But the cannon fired again.And he heard the bullets above his head.He got up and ran into the forest.At last, he found a road toward his house.It was a wide, straight road.Yet it looked like a road that never had any traveler on it--no farms, no houses on its sides, only tall black trees.In the tall black trees, the prisoner heard strange voices.Some of them spoke in words that he could not understand.His neck began to hurt.When he touched it, it felt very large.His eyes hurt so much that he could not close them.His feet moved, but he could not feel the road.As he walked, he was in a kind of sleep--now half awake, half asleep.He found himself at a door of his house.His lovely wife ran to him."Ah, as past!"He put his arms about his beautiful wife.And just then, he felt a terrible pain in the back of his neck.All around him, there was a great white light and a sound of the cannon, and then, then darkness and silence.The prisoner was dead; his neck was broken; his body hung at the end of a rope.It kept swinging from side to side, swinging gently under a hole in Owl Creek bridge.**Arranged by 独居石 and David**

1.break off v.中断, 折断, 突然停止, 脱落, 暂停, 断绝, 解除美国故事：黑暗2002 0302 SE FEARURE: DarkNow the Special English program American Stories.Our story today is called, "Dark."It was written by [] Johnson.Here is Shep O'Neal with our story.Ghina sat in the bedroom and looked at the paper that covered the walls.He felt strange.He and his wife had slept in this room all of their married life.Yet he could not remember what the walls looked like.He had been blinded.Now, he could see again.He got up; and he walked over to the wall.He touched the paper with its small red flowers and green leaves.The colors were old and dull.Ghina had gotten his sight back in the morning.He had opened his eyes and there it was--light, light he had not seen for five years.At first, the light was brownly.Then he saw light shadows.Then everything became bright and sharp.And so he simply sat there, and looked at all the things around him.His wife and his son had cried when he told them.Ghina said all the things they wanted to hear.To his son, he said, "You have grown tall, tall as a tree. You are just like a man now. It is good to see you and your smile again."It was not so easy to talk to his wife. It looked the same Lena, exactly the same.It was a lie.But he kept on said it.It helped to hide his feeling when he saw her old, thin face.Lena had never been beautiful.But her warm smile gave her a pretty look.Now, the hard work of caring for a blind man showed on her face.She looked tired.Ghina suddenly felt like rushing outside to do something to pay her for those difficult years.After a time, Lena and their son left.And Ghina sat there and thought about the past.Everything would be different now, now that he could see again.In the afternoon, Ghina became tired.He rested as he looked at the old wall paper.He began to wonder if he could start where he had left off.They had no money.Lena had thought about selling the farm.But now, that would not be necessary because he could work.With help from their son, they would keep the farm.Ideas began to form in his mind.He thought about the futureThe thought of working again began to excite him.At last, Ghina felt brave enough to go outside.He wondered what changes would be there.Lena looked worried."Please be careful," she said, "the doctor said to rest and be quiet.""Oh, I'll be all right," Ghina answered and left the house.The daylight hurt his eyes at first.He closed them for a few minutes.Then he slowly opened them and started to walk slowly toward the river.When he got there, he sat on an old fallen tree and looked around.He saw his farm fields.He saw how much work was to be done.He started to make plans.It was a day in late April.It was still cool.But Ghina just sat there and looked and planned.He saw the winding muddy river.He saw the purple hills reaching up to the sky.

He saw the oak trees bigger now along the side of the river.They were covered with white flowers.He watched the black birds flied down to his fields.He had forgotten that they were so graceful.Ghina had a sudden urge to go out and work in the fields.But the feeling quickly left.He felt peaceful.He enjoyed a(the?) quiet happiness of seeing.Nothing could stop him now, he thought.He would build his land into a good farm again.He began to plan again to organize his thoughts.When he had been blinded, his thoughts had been blinded, too.He looked at his hands.They were white and thin and soft.He would teach them to work again.After a time, Ghina got up and started to walk toward the house.Now that his thoughts were clear and he had plans, he wanted to talk to his wife and son.And then he wanted to feel the freedom.He had missed so much.He started to run, smiling and talking happily to himself.He was excited that he could move so fast without any help.How wonderful to walk alone!He almost stepped on a frog that jumpped between his feet."Out of the way frog," he shouted and laughed.He laughed to the sky, and to the trees, and to the world.It was them that he noticed a change.A great curtain fell slowly down over the river and the valley.He stood still and opened his eyes as wide as he could.The curtain continued to fall now over the oak trees until they became tall shadows.Ghina closed his eyes and put his hands against them.He hoped and hoped.But when he opened them again, it was still dark.The dark fog was still there.This was how it had happened five years ago.He remembered it clearly--one minute he could see, the next minute a dark fog covered the light.He saw that the fog got thicker, the purple hills went first, then the oak trees and their white flowers.Then Ghina did saw that the farm land and the house were gone, too.A terrible feel arose inside of him.He hit the air with his hands trying to push the darkness back."No, please!" he shouted, "not again!"He hit his hands together in helpless anger.But the shadows got darker."Stop! Stop!" he cried, "no more suffering. Give me a chance. Hold the darkness back, please!"Ghina reached out to the sky and begged.But it came slow and heavy.The darkness grew.He could still hear the river; but he could not see it.He started to run to leave the darkness behind him.As he ran, he hit a tree.He got up and ran again.He fell no pain only cold terror.Suddenly, he stopped running.He put his hands out and touched a rough old tree.He put his arms around the tree and started to laugh.He laughed for a long time and very loud.He was a fool, he thought, a weak-minded old fool.There was nothing to worry about.It was night.He had forgotten the night."Yes, that was why it was dark. It was always dark at night."In five years of blindness, he had forgotten night came early to the valley in April.Ghina sat down under the tree weak from laughing.Waiting to he told Lena and his son, they would laugh with him.Of course, he was no blind again. It could not happen two times in one lifetime.He leaned his head back against the tree and smiled once more.The late, evening sun shone red.On the tears, that came from his eyes.**Arranged by 独居石 and David**

美国故事：饥2002 0309 SE FEATURE: HungerNow the Special English program American Stories.Today's story is called, "Hunger."It was written by [].Here is Shep O'Neal with our story.Sheena lived in Russia in the early 1900's.One day, Sheena received a letter from her uncle Moses.He sent Sheena money to come to the United States.He said she could live with him and his wife.And so Sheena came to the United States full of hope.For two years, Sheena did all of her uncle's work--she washed; she cleaned; and she cooked.Moses gave her no money.He gave her food and a bed to sleep in, and that was all.Her life was just as hard as it was in Russia.But she still hoped for something good to happen to her.Something did.And it filled her young head with dreams.She met a young man--a teacher.He spoke to her as a friend.Once he took her to a library and showed her books to read.She liked the young man's face and his warm smile.One night he walked with her from the library to her uncle's house.When he said good night, he held her hand and kissed her softly.But the young man had gone off to another city.Sheena still thought of him, especially while washing the steps with soap and hot water.The dirty building and her old clothes did not seem real to her.They were just a bad dream.Only her feelings for the nice young teacher were real.Then she heard a hard voice of her uncle calling her.He was angry and shouted at her because Shenna had forgotten to put salt in his soup.Sheena could no longer listen to the old man.She ran out of the house and into the street.She wished she were dead.No body wanted her or loved her.She ran through the streets.Along the way, she saw a note building with a sign on it.Sheena read the words slowly -- We Want Workers.It was a factory where shirts were made.Sheena asked herself, "Am I not a worker?"She looked at her hands.They were the hard strong hands of a worker.She thought to herself, "America gives everybody a chance. Why should I not work and make money?"Sheena ran up the steps and opened a large door.There was the factory, machines and people--all of them making shirts.How exciting! It was a world Sheena had never seen before.A man stopped and looked at her.His name was Sam.Sam had come from Russia to America five years ago.He looked at the pretty young girl and asked her what she wanted.She told him she wanted to work.Sam liked her.She looked different from the other girls.He took her to the boss who gave Sheena a job.She worked on a machine with an older girl.Sheena was a good worker and learned quickly.Often Sheena dreamed about marriage.What a man she wanted Ah……h -- he would have to be somebody very special.He would have to study and to learn because she wanted an educated husband.This was a big part of her hunger.Sheena worked hard in the factory.Soon she was given more difficult work to do.

She became an assistant to Sam--the man she had met on her first day in the factory.For a few days, Sam said little.But his face became red and his hands shook when Sheena looked at him.One day Sam spoke.He touched Sheenna's arm and words came rushing out of his mouth.He asked Sheena to eat with him.Sheena and Sam ate little, but talked a lot.They had much to say, especially Sheena.She told Sam how lonely she was; how hungry to see people, to be with them, to speak as she was doing now.She was always afraid to speak to men.But Sam-- well, he was different.Their friendship grew.One day Sam asked Sheena to have dinner with him in a restaurant.She was worried about her clothes.They were not as fine as the clothes of other girls.But Sam told her that she was much more beautiful than all the other girls.They left the factory.And as they walked, they talked.Sam asked Sheena why she had come to America.She told him the reason was hunger.Hunger to find in America, the good things she could not have in Russia.Tears came to her eyes, as she remembered how in Russia she never had enough food; how even in the cold winter she had no shoes.Sheena and Sam slowly ate their dinner.And then Sam spoke.He talked about his hard years in Russia and how he had come to America for the same reason as Sheena.He told her proudly that he had learned to write his name.And even more proudly he showed Sheena a small book.The book was from a bank where Sam saved his money.The book showed that Sam had more than 1,000 dollars.Sheena could not believe anybody had so much money.She smiled at Sam.And he continued to talk.He spoke of his hopes and his dreams.He wanted two things.He wanted to have his own small factory.And he wanted to marry a nice girl.And now, the words rushed out of Sam's mouth again.Sam said he would give Sheena all his money; he would buy her a piano; he would pay teachers who would show Sheena how to speak and to write English.Sheena tried to stop Sam.She did not want his money.She wanted to improve herself by her own work, not by his.But Sam could not be stopped.He told her he loved her.He wanted to work for her, to live for her.Sheena thought how good it would be to have a husband and a home and children.She looked at Sam, at his simple face.And she listened to his simple words.He was a good man, but his only hunger was for money.Sheena said she did not want somebody else to help her.She wanted to use her own strength and her own mind.And then she said that she could not think of marrying anybody but one special man--he lived in her mind; this man who was everything that she wanted to be.She had a hunger for this man that was as real as the hunger for food.Sam had no more words.He and Sheena left the restaurant and walked.Sheena spoke of this hunger--a hunger for education, a hunger for the better life, a hunger that had nothing to do with money.They stopped to rest in a park.Sam did not undertand what she was saying.Sheena spoke softly to him.She was troubled by Sam's sadness.She said everybody had to find an answer for his own hunger; she might never find the man she wanted but she would continue looking for him; and he, Sam, must find a way to cure his own hunger.Sam said nothing.Sheena put her hands on his shoulders and shook him.Now her voice was hard.She told sam that he had to be strong as strong as she was.She said, "It is the beginning of your hunger, Sam. Do not give up your hunger. You must believe in it. If you do, America will believe in you. Someday, you will get what you want."**Arranged by 独居石 and David**

1.leave the room [口]上厕所美国故事：失落的月亮女神（德莱塞著）2002 0316 SE FEATURE: The Lost Phoebe Now the Special English program American Stories.Today's story is called, "The Lost Phoebe."It was written by Theodore Dreiser.Here is Shep O'Neal to tell you the story.Old Henry Reifsneider and his wife Phoebe loved one another the way people do who have lived together a long, long time.They were simple farm people.Their world was their fruit trees, cornfield and backyard with its pigs and chickens.The rest of the world was far away--like stars in the sky.Sometimes Henry worried about death.During his worries he would raise his old voice and say, "Phoebe, where is my corn pipe? You are always taking things that belong to me.""Now you hush, Henry," his wife would say. "If you keep talking like that, I will go away. And then what would you do? There is nobody to look after you. Your corn pipe is on the table where you put it."Old Henry knew his wife would never leave him.The only leaving he feared was death.He often wondered how he could live without Phoebe.In the evening when he went to the door to see that they were safety shut in, it warmed his heart to know Phoebe was there with him.When Henry moved during the night, she always spoke to him."Now, Henry, be quiet! You are as jumpy as a chicken.""Well, I cannot sleep, Phoebe.""If you stop rolling around so much, you will sleep. Then I can get some rest, too."Knowing she was there beside him in the dark made Henry quiet again.When she wanted him to get a pail of water, Henry liked to say, "Do this -- do that -- always asking me to do something. Women are never satisfied."Phoebe would smile; she could see the inner happiness shining in his eyes.Henry talked sharply, but he never forgot to get water and wood for the fire.In this way, they lived happily in their simple world.One day in the early spring Phoebe became sick and died.Old Henry watched them put her body in the earth.Neighbors asked Henry to come and live with them, but he would not leave.He wanted to be near the place where his Phoebe lay in the earth.He tried to work around the farm, but it was difficult to return to an empty house at night.At night he read the newspaper.But most of the time he just sat looking at the floor -- wordering where Phoebe was and how soon he would die.For five months he lived like this.Then there was a change.It happened one night after he had gone to bed.There was a bright moon in the sky; its silver light fell on the old chairs and table in the bedroom.The moonlight on the chair and the half-open door made a shadow.The shadow looked like Phoebe.She was sitting by the table the way she had done so many times before."Phoebe," he called in a weak voice, "have you come back?"The shadow in the chair did not move.Henry got up and slowly walked toward it.When he came near the table, he saw that there was nothing on the chair but his old coat.

2002se0323feature美国故事Tomatoes1.withdrawn adj.性格内向的,偏僻的, 孤独的 孤僻的2.tire out v.使十分疲劳3.farm hand n.农业工人, 农场工人, 雇农4.Heaven above 哎呀! 天哪!5.have enough to do 好容易才, 很吃力Now the Special English program American Stories.This week's story is called, "Tomatoes."It was written by John Robinson Junior.Here is Walter Guthrie with our story.Mother let no one touch the tomatoes.Why? Was a mystery to me.I watched her working in the tomato patch.Her sun-browned hands seemed to touch each plant, each green leaf lovingly as if it was a new born child.I was worried.She spent so much time in the hot sun.I decided to speak her about it.This was not easy.Since father's dead, she liked to be alone.She was withdrawn most of the time."Mother," I asked, "why do you tire yourself out like a young farmhand. You have plenty of help.""Huh, Jimmy---ih," she said it in a slow breath as she rose to her feet.She brushed some down hair from her cheek and breathe deeply for a moment.I had never seen her so short of breath.I had also noticed that she seemed always tired around the house."Ul--" she said, "it isn't a hot day for the end of June a real scorcher?""You should stay indoors," I answered, "there is no reason to waste your strength out here."She smiled and let me lead her back to the house, holding my arm."You must not worry about me, Jimmy."She walked beside me with slow careful steps."You have your law studies to worry about. Besides, what do you know about running a farm?""Well, not much I guess."My arms stiffened.she must [be sense] than I was hurt because she quickly talked about something else."Are you sure they will not object to the college, you stay in home, I mean?""No, father's funeral was so near the end of the class term. There is no reason to go back. They'll mail all my marks. Besides, I like be in here with you. I never seem to be with you enough.""Yes, yes, it is nice," she said, entering the kitchen."Now, you sit down, and let me get you some lemonade. I know how you used to love lemonade when you were a little."I smiled and shook my head at her."I always hated lemonade, mother. It was Jenny who loved it."My sister Jenny died at ten when we were both children."Ah, heaven above," she laughed, "I am going to be a joke around the farm soon, an absent-minded woman."She went to the sink and washed her red tomato-colored hands."The tomatoes are good this year, Jimmy. Big and firm, and lots of them ripe already.""Yes, I saw them. And I've seen you out of that field every day since the funeral. Why don't you let the help worry about the tomatoes? You have enough to do in the house."She turned and looked at me."Jimmy," she said firmly, "don't interfere with my work on the farm. I know you mean well. But there's so little you understand about things. I'm trying to learn to live with my loneness, Jimmy. I must do in my own way."