时间:2020-01-23 来源:文都网校 浏览: 分享:


      经典名句-英文:You can choose your friends but you sho' can't choose your family。



      The remainder of my schooldays were no more auspicious than the first. Indeed, theywere an endless Project that slowly evolved into a Unit, in which miles of constructionpaper and wax crayon were expended by the State of Alabama in its well-meaning butfruitless efforts to teach me Group Dynamics. What Jem called the Dewey DecimalSystem was school-wide by the end of my first year, so I had no chance to compare itwith other teaching techniques. I could only look around me: Atticus and my uncle, whowent to school at home, knew everything—at least, what one didn’t know the other did.


      Furthermore, I couldn’t help noticing that my father had served for years in the statelegislature, elected each time without opposition, innocent of the adjustments myteachers thought essential to the development of Good Citizenship. Jem, educated on ahalf-Decimal half-Duncecap basis, seemed to function effectively alone or in a group,but Jem was a poor example: no tutorial system devised by man could have stoppedhim from getting at books. As for me, I knew nothing except what I gathered from Timemagazine and reading everything I could lay hands on at home, but as I inchedsluggishly along the treadmill of the Maycomb County school system, I could not helpreceiving the impression that I was being cheated out of something. Out of what I knewnot, yet I did not believe that twelve years of unrelieved boredom was exactly what thestate had in mind for me.


      As the year passed, released from school thirty minutes before Jem, who had to stayuntil three o’clock, I ran by the Radley Place as fast as I could, not stopping until Ireached the safety of our front porch. One afternoon as I raced by, something caughtmy eye and caught it in such a way that I took a deep breath, a long look around, andwent back.


      Two live oaks stood at the edge of the Radley lot; their roots reached out into the side-road and made it bumpy. Something about one of the trees attracted my attention.

      Some tinfoil was sticking in a knot-hole just above my eye level, winking at me in theafternoon sun. I stood on tiptoe, hastily looked around once more, reached into the hole,and withdrew two pieces of chewing gum minus their outer wrappers.

      My first impulse was to get it into my mouth as quickly as possible, but I rememberedwhere I was. I ran home, and on our front porch I examined my loot. The gum lookedfresh. I sniffed it and it smelled all right. I licked it and waited for a while. When I did notdie I crammed it into my mouth: Wrigley’s Double-Mint.




      When Jem came home he asked me where I got such a wad. I told him I found it.

      “Don’t eat things you find, Scout.”

      “This wasn’t on the ground, it was in a tree.”

      Jem growled.

      “Well it was,” I said. “It was sticking in that tree yonder, the one comin‘ from school.”

      “Spit it out right now!”







      I spat it out. The tang was fading, anyway. “I’ve been chewin‘ it all afternoon and I ain’tdead yet, not even sick.”

      Jem stamped his foot. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to even touch the treesover there? You’ll get killed if you do!”

      “You touched the house once!”

      “That was different! You go gargle—right now, you hear me?”

      “Ain’t neither, it’ll take the taste outa my mouth.”

      “You don’t ‘n’ I’ll tell Calpurnia on you!”







      Rather than risk a tangle with Calpurnia, I did as Jem told me. For some reason, myfirst year of school had wrought a great change in our relationship: Calpurnia’s tyranny,unfairness, and meddling in my business had faded to gentle grumblings of generaldisapproval. On my part, I went to much trouble, sometimes, not to provoke her.

      Summer was on the way; Jem and I awaited it with impatience. Summer was our bestseason: it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in thetreehouse; summer was everything good to eat; it was a thousand colors in a parchedlandscape; but most of all, summer was Dill.



      The authorities released us early the last day of school, and Jem and I walked hometogether. “Reckon old Dill’ll be coming home tomorrow,” I said.

      “Probably day after,” said Jem. “Mis’sippi turns ‘em loose a day later.”

      As we came to the live oaks at the Radley Place I raised my finger to point for thehundredth time to the knot-hole where I had found the chewing gum, trying to make Jembelieve I had found it there, and found myself pointing at another piece of tinfoil.

      “I see it, Scout! I see it-”





      Jem looked around, reached up, and gingerly pocketed a tiny shiny package. We ranhome, and on the front porch we looked at a small box patchworked with bits of tinfoilcollected from chewing-gum wrappers. It was the kind of box wedding rings came in,purple velvet with a minute catch. Jem flicked open the tiny catch. Inside were twoscrubbed and polished pennies, one on top of the other. Jem examined them.


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