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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
One December night, a long long time ago, a family sat around the fireplace1 in their home. A golden light from the fire filled the room. The mother and father laughed at something their oldest daughter had just said. The girl was seventeen, much older than her little brother and sister who were only five and six years old. A very old woman, the family's grandmother, sat knitting2 in the warmest corner of the room. And a baby, the youngest child, smiled at the fire's light from its tiny bed.
This family had found happiness in the worst place in all of New England. They had built their home high up in the White Mountains, where the wind blows violently all year long. The family lived in an especially cold and dangerous spot. Stones from the top of the mountain above their house would often roll down the mountainside and wake them in the middle of the night.
No other family lived near them on the mountain. But this family was never lonely. They enjoyed each other's company, and often had visitors. Their house was built near an important road that connected the White Mountains to the St. Lawrence River. People traveling through the mountains in wagons3, always stopped at the family's door, for a drink of water and a friendly word. Lonely travelers crossing the mountains on foot would step into the house to share a hot meal. Sometimes, the wind became so wild and cold that these strangers would spend the night with the family. The family offered every traveler who stopped at their home, a kindness that money could not buy.
On that December evening, the wind came rushing down the mountain. It seemed to stop at their house to knock at the door before it roared5 down into the valley. The family fell silent for a moment, but then they realized that someone really was knocking at their door.
The oldest girl opened the door and found a young man standing6 in the dark. The old grandmother put a chair near the fireplace for him. The oldest daughter gave him a warm shy smile. And the baby held up its little arms to him.
"This fire is just what I needed," the young man said, "the wind has been blowing in my face for the last two hours."
The father took the young man's travel bag.
"Are you going to Vermont?" the older man asked.
"Yes; to Burlington," the traveler replied. "I wanted to reach the valley tonight. But when I saw the light in your window. I decided7 to stop. I would like to sit and enjoy your fire and your company for a while."
As the young man took his place by the fire, something like heavy footsteps8 was heard outside. It sounded as if someone was running down the side of the mountain taking enormous9 steps.
The father looked out of one of the windows.
"That old mountain has thrown another stone at us again. He must have been afraid we would forget him. He sometimes shakes his head and makes us think he will come down on top of us." the father explained to the young man.
"But we are old neighbors," he smiled, "and we manage to get along together pretty well. Besides, I have made a safe hiding place outside to protect us in case a slide brings the mountain down on our heads."
As the father spoke10, the mother prepared a hot meal for their guest. While he ate, he talked freely11 to the family as if it were his own.
This young man did not trust people easily. Yet on this evening, something made him share his deepest secret with these simple mountain people. The young man's secret was that he was ambitious12. He did not know what he wanted to do with his life yet. But he did know that he did not want to be forgotten after he had died. He believed that some time during his life, he would become famous and be admired by thousands of people.
"So far," the young man said, "I have done nothing. If I disappeared tomorrow from the face of the Earth, no one would know anything about me. No one would ask, 'who was he?' 'where did he go?' But I cannot die until I have reached to my destiny13. Then let death come. I will have built my monument."
The young man's powerful emotions touched the family. They smiled.
"You laugh at me," the young man said, taking the oldest daughter's hand, "you think my ambition is silly."
She was very shy and her face became pink with embarrassment14.
"It is better to sit here by the fire," she whispered," and be happy even if nobody thinks of us."
Her father stared into the fire, "I think there is something natural in what the young man says; and his words have made me think about our lives here. It would have been nice if we had had a little farm down in the valley. Some place where we could see our mountains without being afraid they would fall on our heads. I would have been respected by all our neighbors. And when I had grown old, I would die happy in my bed. You would put a stone over my grave15 so everyone would know I lived an honest life."
"You see," the young man cried out, "it is in our nature to want a monument. Some want only a stone on their grave. Others want to be a part of everyone's memory. But we all want to be remembered after we die."
The young man threw some more wood on the fire to chase16 away the darkness. The firelight fell on the little group around the fireplace, the father's strong arms, and mother's gentle smile. It touched the young man's proud face and the daughter's shy one. It warmed the old grandmother still knitting in the corner.
She looked up from her knitting and with her fingers still moving the needles, she said, "old people have their secrets just as young people do." The old woman said she had made her funeral clothes some years earlier. They were the finest clothes she had made since her wedding dress. She said her secret was a fear that she would not be buried in her best clothes.
The young man stared into the fire.
"Old and young," he said, "we dream of graves17 and monuments. I wonder how sailors feel when their ship is sinking; and they know they would be buried in the wide and nameless grave that is the ocean."
A sound rising like the roar4 of the ocean shook the house. Young and old exchanged one wild look. Then the same words burst from all their lips. "The Slide! The Slide!"
They rushed away from the house into the darkness to the secret's spot that father had built to protect them from the mountain slide.
The whole side of the mountain came rushing toward18 the house like a waterfall of destruction19. But just before it reached the little house, the wave of earth divided in two and went around the family's home.
Everyone and everything in the path of the terrible slide was destroyed except the little house.
The next morning, smoke was seen coming from the chimney20 of the house on the mountain. Inside, the fire was still burning. The chairs were still drawn21 up in a half circle around the fireplace. It looked as if the family had just gone out for a walk.
Some people thought that a stranger had been with the family on that terrible night. But no one ever discovered who the stranger was. His name and way of life remained a mystery. His body was never found.
You have just heard the story The Ambitious Guest. It was written by Nathaniel Hawthorne and adapted for Special English by Dona de Sanctis. Your narrator was Harry22 Monroe.
纳撒尼尔.霍桑(Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1804～1864)19世纪美国小说家, 其代表作品《红字》(The Scarlet23 Letter)《七角楼》（The House of the Seven Gables）。
This family had found happiness in the worst place in all of New England. They had built their home high up in the White Mountains, where the wind blows violently all year long. The family lived in an especially cold and dangerous spot. Stones from the top of the mountain above their house would often roll down the mountainside and wake them in the middle of the night.
No other family lived near them on the mountain. But this family was never lonely. They enjoyed each other's company, and often had visitors. Their house was built near an important road that connected the White Mountains to the St. Lawrence River. People traveling through the mountains in wagons3, always stopped at the family's door, for a drink of water and a friendly word. Lonely travelers crossing the mountains on foot would step into the house to share a hot meal. Sometimes, the wind became so wild and cold that these strangers would spend the night with the family. The family offered every traveler who stopped at their home, a kindness that money could not buy.
On that December evening, the wind came rushing down the mountain. It seemed to stop at their house to knock at the door before it roared5 down into the valley. The family fell silent for a moment, but then they realized that someone really was knocking at their door.
The oldest girl opened the door and found a young man standing6 in the dark. The old grandmother put a chair near the fireplace for him. The oldest daughter gave him a warm shy smile. And the baby held up its little arms to him.
"This fire is just what I needed," the young man said, "the wind has been blowing in my face for the last two hours."
The father took the young man's travel bag.
"Are you going to Vermont?" the older man asked.
"Yes; to Burlington," the traveler replied. "I wanted to reach the valley tonight. But when I saw the light in your window. I decided7 to stop. I would like to sit and enjoy your fire and your company for a while."
As the young man took his place by the fire, something like heavy footsteps8 was heard outside. It sounded as if someone was running down the side of the mountain taking enormous9 steps.
The father looked out of one of the windows.
"That old mountain has thrown another stone at us again. He must have been afraid we would forget him. He sometimes shakes his head and makes us think he will come down on top of us." the father explained to the young man.
"But we are old neighbors," he smiled, "and we manage to get along together pretty well. Besides, I have made a safe hiding place outside to protect us in case a slide brings the mountain down on our heads."
As the father spoke10, the mother prepared a hot meal for their guest. While he ate, he talked freely11 to the family as if it were his own.
This young man did not trust people easily. Yet on this evening, something made him share his deepest secret with these simple mountain people. The young man's secret was that he was ambitious12. He did not know what he wanted to do with his life yet. But he did know that he did not want to be forgotten after he had died. He believed that some time during his life, he would become famous and be admired by thousands of people.
"So far," the young man said, "I have done nothing. If I disappeared tomorrow from the face of the Earth, no one would know anything about me. No one would ask, 'who was he?' 'where did he go?' But I cannot die until I have reached to my destiny13. Then let death come. I will have built my monument."
The young man's powerful emotions touched the family. They smiled.
"You laugh at me," the young man said, taking the oldest daughter's hand, "you think my ambition is silly."
She was very shy and her face became pink with embarrassment14.
"It is better to sit here by the fire," she whispered," and be happy even if nobody thinks of us."
Her father stared into the fire, "I think there is something natural in what the young man says; and his words have made me think about our lives here. It would have been nice if we had had a little farm down in the valley. Some place where we could see our mountains without being afraid they would fall on our heads. I would have been respected by all our neighbors. And when I had grown old, I would die happy in my bed. You would put a stone over my grave15 so everyone would know I lived an honest life."
"You see," the young man cried out, "it is in our nature to want a monument. Some want only a stone on their grave. Others want to be a part of everyone's memory. But we all want to be remembered after we die."
The young man threw some more wood on the fire to chase16 away the darkness. The firelight fell on the little group around the fireplace, the father's strong arms, and mother's gentle smile. It touched the young man's proud face and the daughter's shy one. It warmed the old grandmother still knitting in the corner.
She looked up from her knitting and with her fingers still moving the needles, she said, "old people have their secrets just as young people do." The old woman said she had made her funeral clothes some years earlier. They were the finest clothes she had made since her wedding dress. She said her secret was a fear that she would not be buried in her best clothes.
The young man stared into the fire.
"Old and young," he said, "we dream of graves17 and monuments. I wonder how sailors feel when their ship is sinking; and they know they would be buried in the wide and nameless grave that is the ocean."
A sound rising like the roar4 of the ocean shook the house. Young and old exchanged one wild look. Then the same words burst from all their lips. "The Slide! The Slide!"
They rushed away from the house into the darkness to the secret's spot that father had built to protect them from the mountain slide.
The whole side of the mountain came rushing toward18 the house like a waterfall of destruction19. But just before it reached the little house, the wave of earth divided in two and went around the family's home.
Everyone and everything in the path of the terrible slide was destroyed except the little house.
The next morning, smoke was seen coming from the chimney20 of the house on the mountain. Inside, the fire was still burning. The chairs were still drawn21 up in a half circle around the fireplace. It looked as if the family had just gone out for a walk.
Some people thought that a stranger had been with the family on that terrible night. But no one ever discovered who the stranger was. His name and way of life remained a mystery. His body was never found.
You have just heard the story The Ambitious Guest. It was written by Nathaniel Hawthorne and adapted for Special English by Dona de Sanctis. Your narrator was Harry22 Monroe.
纳撒尼尔.霍桑(Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1804～1864)19世纪美国小说家, 其代表作品《红字》(The Scarlet23 Letter)《七角楼》（The House of the Seven Gables）。
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1
fireplace
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| n.壁炉，炉灶 | |
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2
knitting
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| n.编结物；接合，联合；[外科]骨愈合v.（使）愈合( knit的现在分词)；编结，编织；（使）紧密地结合；织平针 | |
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3
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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4
roar
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| n.吼，咆哮，轰鸣，喧闹；vi.吼叫，大声说出，喧闹；vt.呼喊，使轰鸣 | |
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5
roared
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| v.咆哮( roar的过去式和过去分词 )；大笑；大哭；熊熊燃烧 | |
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6
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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7
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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8
footsteps
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| n.脚步（声），一步的距离，足迹；脚步（声）( footstep的名词复数 )；一步的距离；足迹 | |
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9
enormous
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| adj.巨大的；庞大的 | |
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10
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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11
freely
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| adv.自由地，随便地，无拘无束地 | |
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12
ambitious
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| adj.有雄心的，劲头十足的，有野心的 | |
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13
destiny
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| n.命运，定数，天命 | |
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14
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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15
grave
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| n.墓穴，坟墓，雕刻工，抑音；adj.庄重的，严肃的，重大的，低沉的；vt.雕刻 | |
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16
chase
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| vt.追逐，追赶，追求；n.追赶 | |
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17
graves
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| n.（法国）格拉芙葡萄酒；坟墓( grave的名词复数 )；死亡；钝重音符；沉音符v.坟墓( grave的第三人称单数 )；死亡；钝重音符；沉音符 | |
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18
toward
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| prep.对于，关于，接近，将近，向，朝 | |
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19
destruction
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| n.破坏，毁灭，消灭 | |
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20
chimney
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| n.烟囱，烟筒；玻璃罩 | |
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21
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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22
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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23
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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