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【听写作业】AMERICAN STORIES - 08/02/2008

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MP3声音文件下载链接:AMERICAN STORIES - TO THOSE WHO WAIT on 08/02/2008

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Now the Special English program American Stories. Our story today is called "To Those Who Wait". It was written by E. M. Here is Larry West with our story.

"I have got my job back." Jeff Miller said to himself over and over again that morning. He had been out of work four years. Times were difficult in 1933. People called it "The great depression". A lot of men and women had lost their jobs. But now, Jeff Miller had his job back! The first thing he wanted to do was go to the restaurant he liked best and eat a big bowl of oyster soup. Then he would call his wife Martha and tell her the news. After he lost his job, they had to leave their apartment in New York. She went back to Ohio to live with her sister. He stayed in the city to look for work. Yesterday, Mr. Gormanly called him, he offered Jeff his old job again. In the office that morning, Mr. Gormanly shook hands with him. He told him he could use Ted Philips' office. He said Ted would not be coming back to work. He had killed himself. Then Mr. Gormanly pulled some money out of his pocket, "Here," he said, giving it to Jeff, "you probably need a few things."

At 12 o'clock, Jeff Miller left his office to go to lunch. He could not stop telling himself how wonderful that oyster soup would taste. At the corner, he stopped and waited for the traffic light to change. Suddenly he heard a low voice close beside him. A man standing next to him was talking to himself as he watched the cars speed by. The stranger was wearing a blue coat that looked costly, but it was very old and worn-out. He wore no hat even though the day was cold. His face seemed tired. Jeff Miller thought he recognized the tired face and the low voice. As he looked hard at the man he realized he had seen men like this one many times during the last four years. They stood on street corners and talked to themselves. They had gone insane because of the depression. The traffic light changed and Jeff hurried across the street. He felt a little sick to his stomach, yet he held his head high. "Well," he thought, "those days are over for me. I have my job back." Yes, the last four years had been like a bad dream. But they were over now, he had his job back, and it was not his depression anymore.

Jeff Miller walked down, trying to recapture his good feelings. As he near the restaurant he walked more slowly, he could feel a knot in his stomach caused by pity and fear. He did not want oyster soup anymore. He would not be able to eat for hours. The Great Depression had destroyed that man on the corner and thousands liked him. They did not care that the depression was almost over. It was not over for them. It would never be over for them. "Hey, look," Jeff told himself, "the depression had been a time with trouble and loss for everybody. First a man lost his job and his money; then he lost his home, and maybe even his family. Finally, he lost his self-respect and courage. But at least I kept enough pride to hide my fear," Jeff said to himself, "and yet, some people like the man in the old blue coat had lost even that. Their fear was naked for all the world to see." Jeff shook a little, yes, he had suffered. But no one had ever pitied him, no one had said, "Poor Jeff, the depression really destroyed him." He had never looked for food in waste cans; he had never bent down to pick up someone else's half-smoked cigarette on the street. He was thankful for that.

Suddenly he remembered he had not called Martha. He had planned to do it after he ate the oyster soup. He had wanted to talk to her with the rich spicy taste still in his mouth. Over the last four years, he had dreamed of the day he would call his wife with the good news. He would pick up the telephone and say, "Hello, Martha, come home! I have got my job back!" He had always believed those words would wash away his shame and fear. He had thought they would make him forget the depression.

Jeff turned and headed back to his office. "Come on," he said to himself, "stop thinking like this. You should feel happy." He walked into his building and got on the elevator. "48 floor!" He said, louder than necessary. A young man stood next to the elevator operator. He was carrying a bag in one hand; in the other hand, he held a cold half-smoked cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers.

The lights in the elevator lit up the numbers of the floors as they passed. 28, 29... From the corner of his eye, Jeff watched the young man with the bag. He saw him tried to drop the cold cigarette into his coat pocket. But he missed, the cigarette fell. At the same moment, the elevator reached the young man's floor. The doors slid open. The young man stepped out and the doors closed behind him. The elevator began climbing again. 38, 39, 40... Jeff looked at the cigarette which had rolled to one side of the elevator car. He moved toward it. 43, 44... the knot in his stomach began to ease. He felt a little beam of excitement go through him. "Yes," Jeff thought to himself, "it might take a while to forget these last four years." He could not expect to wash away all those memories in one morning. In a week or two, it would all be gone from his mind. The depression would be like a bad dream he would forget in time. He and Martha would buy new furniture; they would go to restaurants again and take holiday trips. He continued to look at the cigarette. 46, 47... as the elevator came to a stop at the 48th floor, he suddenly bent down and picked up the half-smoked cigarette. Then he turned his head quickly to the elevator operator. The man was looking at him hard. Jeff felt as if the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. "Here is your floor, Mister," the operator said. Jeff stood up slowly. His face felt hot with shame. His hand close tightly around the cigarette, crushing it. He wanted to tell the operator that he never did that sort of thing. He wanted the man to know he did not need to smoke cigarette someone else had thrown away. After all, he had his job back. As the elevator doors opened, Jeff felt as if he were in another country. In this strange land, cold and hungry men in old blue coats talked to themselves. In this land of the dead, having a job meant nothing. He suddenly realized that sometime during the last four years, he had learned to live without oyster soup; he had learned to live without joy and without pride. He had learned to pick up used cigarettes. Jeff felt the elevator operator's eyes on him. He looked into the man's face, "Funny, isn't it?" Jeff said, laughing a little, "I just got my job back today after four years!" The elevator operator smiled, "I guess you must be feeling pretty good," he said. "Yes, I am," Jeff said, he opened his hand and looked at the crushed cigarette, he did not feel ashamed anymore. He realized he was not in the land of dead men. He had been there for four years. But he was not there now. A lot of people had been to that land, and many of them have found their way back. He knew he would never be alone again. Jeff touched the operator's shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator car. "I'll be seeing you," he said. The elevator doors closed behind him and he opened the freshly painted door of his office. "I have got my job back!" Jeff Miller said to himself.

You have just heard the American story called "To Those Who Wait". It was written by E. M. Your storyteller was Larry West. "To Those Who Wait" was published by Charles Scribner's Sons. It was adapted for Special English by Donald Sanctas by permission of Harold Ober Associates Incorporated. This story is copyrighted. All rights reserved. For VOA Special English, this is Shep O'Neal.

----------------------------------------
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1楼 作者:fairytale 创建: <编辑>  <引用>
The answer: Now the Special English program American Stories. Our story today is called "To Those Who Wait". It was written by E. M. Here is Larry West with our story. "I have got my job back." Jeff Miller said to himself over and over again that morning. He had been out of work four years. Times were difficult in 1933. People called it "The great depression". A lot of men and women had lost their jobs. But now, Jeff Miller had his job back! The first thing he wanted to do was go to the restaurant he liked best and eat a big bowl of oyster soup. Then he would call his wife Martha and tell her the news. After he lost his job, they had to leave their apartment in New York. She went back to Ohio to live with her sister. He stayed in the city to look for work. Yesterday, Mr. Gormanly called him, he offered Jeff his old job again. In the office that morning, Mr. Gormanly shook hands with him. He told him he could use Ted Philips' office. He said Ted would not be coming back to work. He had killed himself. Then Mr. Gormanly pulled some money out of his pocket, "Here," he said, giving it to Jeff, "you probably need a few things." At 12 o'clock, Jeff Miller left his office to go to lunch. He could not stop telling himself how wonderful that oyster soup would taste. At the corner, he stopped and waited for the traffic light to change. Suddenly he heard a low voice close beside him. A man standing next to him was talking to himself as he watched the cars speed by. The stranger was wearing a blue coat that looked costly, but it was very old and worn-out. He wore no hat even though the day was cold. His face seemed tired. Jeff Miller thought he recognized the tired face and the low voice. As he looked hard at the man he realized he had seen men like this one many times during the last four years. They stood on street corners and talked to themselves. They had gone insane because of the depression. The traffic light changed and Jeff hurried across the street. He felt a little sick to his stomach, yet he held his head high. "Well," he thought, "those days are over for me. I have my job back." Yes, the last four years had been like a bad dream. But they were over now, he had his job back, and it was not his depression anymore. Jeff Miller walked down, trying to recapture his good feelings. As he near the restaurant he walked more slowly, he could feel a knot in his stomach caused by pity and fear. He did not want oyster soup anymore. He would not be able to eat for hours. The Great Depression had destroyed that man on the corner and thousands liked him. They did not care that the depression was almost over. It was not over for them. It would never be over for them. "Hey, look," Jeff told himself, "the depression had been a time with trouble and loss for everybody. First a man lost his job and his money; then he lost his home, and maybe even his family. Finally, he lost his self-respect and courage. But at least I kept enough pride to hide my fear," Jeff said to himself, "and yet, some people like the man in the old blue coat had lost even that. Their fear was naked for all the world to see." Jeff shook a little, yes, he had suffered. But no one had ever pitied him, no one had said, "Poor Jeff, the depression really destroyed him." He had never looked for food in waste cans; he had never bent down to pick up someone else's half-smoked cigarette on the street. He was thankful for that. Suddenly he remembered he had not called Martha. He had planned to do it after he ate the oyster soup. He had wanted to talk to her with the rich spicy taste still in his mouth. Over the last four years, he had dreamed of the day he would call his wife with the good news. He would pick up the telephone and say, "Hello, Martha, come home! I have got my job back!" He had always believed those words would wash away his shame and fear. He had thought they would make him forget the depression. Jeff turned and headed back to his office. "Come on," he said to himself, "stop thinking like this. You should feel happy." He walked into his building and got on the elevator. "48 floor!" He said, louder than necessary. A young man stood next to the elevator operator. He was carrying a bag in one hand; in the other hand, he held a cold half-smoked cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers. The lights in the elevator lit up the numbers of the floors as they passed. 28, 29... From the corner of his eye, Jeff watched the young man with the bag. He saw him tried to drop the cold cigarette into his coat pocket. But he missed, the cigarette fell. At the same moment, the elevator reached the young man's floor. The doors slid open. The young man stepped out and the doors closed behind him. The elevator began climbing again. 38, 39, 40... Jeff looked at the cigarette which had rolled to one side of the elevator car. He moved toward it. 43, 44... the knot in his stomach began to ease. He felt a little beam of excitement go through him. "Yes," Jeff thought to himself, "it might take a while to forget these last four years." He could not expect to wash away all those memories in one morning. In a week or two, it would all be gone from his mind. The depression would be like a bad dream he would forget in time. He and Martha would buy new furniture; they would go to restaurants again and take holiday trips. He continued to look at the cigarette. 46, 47... as the elevator came to a stop at the 48th floor, he suddenly bent down and picked up the half-smoked cigarette. Then he turned his head quickly to the elevator operator. The man was looking at him hard. Jeff felt as if the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. "Here is your floor, Mister," the operator said. Jeff stood up slowly. His face felt hot with shame. His hand close tightly around the cigarette, crushing it. He wanted to tell the operator that he never did that sort of thing. He wanted the man to know he did not need to smoke cigarette someone else had thrown away. After all, he had his job back. As the elevator doors opened, Jeff felt as if he were in another country. In this strange land, cold and hungry men in old blue coats talked to themselves. In this land of the dead, having a job meant nothing. He suddenly realized that sometime during the last four years, he had learned to live without oyster soup; he had learned to live without joy and without pride. He had learned to pick up used cigarettes. Jeff felt the elevator operator's eyes on him. He looked into the man's face, "Funny, isn't it?" Jeff said, laughing a little, "I just got my job back today after four years!" The elevator operator smiled, "I guess you must be feeling pretty good," he said. "Yes, I am," Jeff said, he opened his hand and looked at the crushed cigarette, he did not feel ashamed anymore. He realized he was not in the land of dead men. He had been there for four years. But he was not there now. A lot of people had been to that land, and many of them have found their way back. He knew he would never be alone again. Jeff touched the operator's shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator car. "I'll be seeing you," he said. The elevator doors closed behind him and he opened the freshly painted door of his office. "I have got my job back!" Jeff Miller said to himself. You have just heard the American story called "To Those Who Wait". It was written by E. M. Your storyteller was Larry West. "To Those Who Wait" was published by Charles Scribner's Sons. It was adapted for Special English by Donald Sanctas by permission of Harold Ober Associates Incorporated. This story is copyrighted. All rights reserved. For VOA Special English, this is Shep O'Neal.
2楼 作者:eleven_729 创建: <编辑>  <引用>
Our story today is called "To Those Who Wait" .It was written by E. M. Here is Larry West with our story. "I have got my job back." Jeff Miller said to himself over and over again that morning. He had been out of work four years. Times were difficult in 1933. People called it “the great depression”. A lot of men and women had lost their jobs. But now, Jeff Miller had his job back. The first thing he wanted to do was go to the restaurant he liked best and eat a big bowl of oyster soup. Then he would call his wife Martha and tell her the news. After he lost his job, they had to leave their apartment in New York. She went back to Ohio to live with her sister. He stayed in the city to look for work. Yesterday, Mr. G. called him. He offered Jeff his old job again. In the office that morning, Mr. G shook hands with him. He told him he could use Ted Phillip's office. He said, "Ted will not be coming back to work. He had killed himself." Then Mr. G pulled some money out of his pocket. "Here," he said, giving it to Jeff, “You probably need a few things." At twelve o'clock, Jeff Miller left his office to go to lunch. He could not stop telling himself how wonderful that oyster soup would taste. At the corner, he stopped and waited for the traffic light to change. Suddenly, he heard a low voice close beside him. A man standing next to him was talking to himself as he watched the cars speed by. The stranger was wearing a blue coat that looked costly. But it was very old and worn out. He wore no hat even though the day was cold. His face seemed tired. Jeff Miller thought he recognized the tired face and the low voice. As he looked hard at the man, he realized he had seen men like this one many times during the last four years. They stood on the street corners and talked to themselves. They had gone insane because of the depression. The traffic light changed and Jeff hurried across the street. He felt a little sick to his stomach. Yet, he held his head high. "Well," he thought, "Those days are over for me. I have had my job back. "Yes, the last four years had been like a bad dream. But they were over now. He had his job back. And it was not his depression any more. Jeff Millar walked down, trying to recapture his good feelings. As he near the restaurant, he walked more slowly. He could feel a knot in his stomach caused by pity and fear. He did not want oyster soup any more. He would not be able to eat for hours. The Great Depression had destroyed that man on the corner and thousands like him. They did not care that the depression was almost over. It was not over for them. It would never be over for them. “Hey, look.” Jeff told himself, “The depression had been a time with trouble and loss for everybody. First, a man lost his job and his money. Then, he lost his home, and maybe even his family. Finally, he lost his self-respect and courage. But at least, I kept enough pride to hide my fear, Jeff said to himself. Yet, some people, like the man in the old blue coat had lost even that. Their fear was naked for all the world to see. Jeff shook a little, yes he had suffered. But no one had ever pitied him. No one has said, “Poor Jeff, the depression really destroyed him.”He had never looked for food in waste cans. He had never bent down to pick up someone else's half smoked cigarette on the street. He was thankful for that. Suddenly, he remembered he had not called Martha. He had planned to do it after he ate the oyster food. He wanted to talk to her with the rich, spicy taste still in his mouth. Over the last four years, he had dreamed of the day he would call his wife with the good news. He would pick up the telephone and say, "Hello, Martha, come home. I have got my job back. He had always believed those words would wash away his shame and fear. He had thought that would make him forget the depression. Jeff turned and headed back to his office. “Come on, "he said to himself, "Stop thinking like this. You should feel happy. He walked into his building and got on the elevator. “Forty-eight flour. " he said, louder than necessary. A young man stood next to the elevator operator. He was carrying a bag in one hand. In the other hand, he held a cold half-smoked cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers. The lights in the elevator lit up the number of the floors as the passed. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, from the corner of his eye, Jeff watched the young man with the bag. He saw him try to drop the cold cigarette into his cold pocket. But he missed. The cigarette fell. At the same moment, the elevator reached the young man's floor. The door's little open. The young man stepped out and the door's closed behind him. The elevator began climbing again. Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. Jeff looked at the cigarette which had rolled to the one side of the elevator car. He moved toward it. forty-three, forty-four, the in his stomach began to ease. He felt a little been of excitement go through him. “Yes," Jeff thought to himself, " It might take a while to forget the last four years. He could not expect to wash away all the memory of last four years in one morning. In a week or two, it would all be gone from his mind. The depression would be like a bad dream he would forget in time. He and Martha will buy new furniture. They will go to restaurant again and take holiday trip. He continued to look at the cigarette. Forty-six, forty-seven, as the elevator came to a stop at the forty-eight floor, he suddenly bent down and picked up the half-smoked cigarette. Then he turned his head quickly to the elevator operator. The man was looking at him hard. Jeff felt as if the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. “Here is your floor, Mister.” The operator said. Jeff stood up slowly. His face felt hot with shame. His hand closed tightly around the cigarette, crashing it. He wanted to tell the operator, he had never done that sort of thing. He wanted the man know he did not need to smoke the cigarette somebody else's thrown away. After all, he had his job back. As the elevator door's opened, Jeff felt as if he were in another country. In this strange land, cold and hungry men in old blue coats talked to themselves. In this land of the dead, having a job means nothing. He suddenly realized that sometime during the last four years he had learned to live without oyster soup. He had learned to live without joy and without pride. He had learned to pick up used cigarettes. Jeff felt the elevator operator's eye on him. He looked into the man's face." Funny, isn't it? "Jeff said laughing a little, I've just got my job back today after four years.” The elevator operator smiled, "I guess you must be feeling very good, "he said.”Yes, I am. "Jeff said. He opened his hand and looked at the crushed cigarette. He did not feel ashamed any more. He realized he was not in the land of the dead man. He had been there for four years, but he was not there now. A lot of people had been to that land, but many of them have found their way back. He knew he would never be alone again. Jeff touched the operator's shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator. "I'll be seeing you." he said. The elevator door's closed behind him. And he opened the fresh-painted door in his office. "I had got my job back.”Jeff Miller said to himself.
3楼 作者:Webmaster 创建: <编辑>  <引用>
此下听写稿由网友 Eva Huang 提供 ----------------------------- The Special English program, American Stories. Our story today is called To those who wait. It was written by Ilyke Moll. Here is Larry West with our story. "I have got my job back." Jeff Miller said to himself over and over again that morning. He had been out of work for years. Times were difficult in 1933. People called it the great depression. A lot of men and women had lost their jobs. But now Jeff Miller had his job back. The first thing he wanted to do was go the restaurant he liked best and ate a big bowl of oyster soup, then he would call his wife, Martha and tell her the news. After he lost his job, they had to leave their apartment in New York. She went back Ohio to live with her sister. He stayed in the city to look for job. Yesterday, Mr. Gormalin called him. He offered Jeff his old job again. In the office that morning, Mr. Gormalin shook hands with him. He told him he could use Ted Philips’ office. He said Ted would not be coming back to work. He had killed himself. Then Mr. Gormalin pulled some money out of his pocket. “Here,” He said, giving it to Jeff, “You probably need a few things.” At 12 o’clock, Jeff Miller left his office to go to lunch. He could not stop telling himself how wonderful that oyster soup taste. At the corner, he stopped and waited for the traffic light to change. Suddenly, he heard a low voice close beside him. A man standing next to him was talking to himself as he watched the car speed by. The stranger was wearing a blue coat that looked costly but it was very old and worn out. He wore no hat even though the day was cold. His face seemed tired. Jeff Miller thought he recognized the tired face and low voice, as he looked hard at the man, he realized he had seen man like this one many times during last four years. They stood on street corner and talked to themselves. They had gone in same because of the depression. The traffic light changed and Jeff hurried across the street. He felt a little sick to his stomach. Yet he held his head high. “Well,” He thought, “Those days are over for me. I have my job back.” Yes, last four years had been like a bad dream. But they were over now. He had his job back and it was not his depression any more. Jeff Miller walked down trying to recapture his good feelings. As he neared the restaurant, he walked more slowly, he could feel a nut in his stomach caused by pity and fear. He did not want oyster soup any more. He would not be able to eat for hours. The great depression had destroyed that man on the corner and thousands like him. They did not care that depression was almost over. It was not over for them. It would never be over for them. “Hey, look,” Jeff told to himself. “The depression had been a time of troubling loss for everybody. First, a man lost his job and his money. Then he lost his home, then maybe even his family. Finally, he lost his self-respect and courage. But at least, I kept enough pride too high my fear.” Jeff said to himself. And yet, some people like the man in the old blue coat had lost even that. Their fear was naked for all the world to see. Jeff shook a little. Yes, he had suffered. But no one had ever pitied him. No one had said poor Jeff. The depression really destroyed him. He had never looked for food in waste cans. He had never bent down to pick up some one else’s half smoked cigarette on the street. He was thankful for that. Suddenly, he remembered he had not called Martha. He had planed to do it after he ate the oyster soup. He wanted to talk to her with rich spice taste still in his mouth. Over the last four years, he had dreamed the day he would call his wife with good news. He would pick up telephone and say: “Hello, Martha, come home. I have got my job back.” He had always believed those words would wash away his shame and fear. He had thought they would make him forget the depression. Jeff turned and headed back to his office. “Come on.” He said to himself, “Stop thinking like this. You should feel happy.” He walked into the building and got on an elevator. “48 floor.” He said louder than necessary. A young man stood next to the elevator operator. He was carrying a bag in one hand. In the other hand, he held a cord half smoked cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers. The lights in the elevator lit up the numbers of floor as they passed. 28, 29… From the corner of his eye, Jeff watched the young man with bag. He thought he tried to drop the cord cigarette into his coat pocket. But he missed. The cigarette fell. As the same moment, the elevator reached the young man’s floor. The doors slid open. The young man stepped out and the doors closed behind him. The elevator began climbing again. 39, 39, 40… Jeff looked at the cigarette which had rolled to one side of the elevator car. He moved toward it. 43, 44... A nut in his stomach began to ease. He felt a little bean but excitement go through him. “Yes,” Jeff thought to himself, “It might take a while to forget these last four years. He could not expect to wash away all those memory in one morning. In a week or two, it would all be gone from his mind. The depression would be like a bad dream he would forget in time. He and Martha would buy new furniture. They would go to restaurant again and take holiday trips. He continued to look at the cigarette. 46, 47… As the elevator came to stop at 48 floor, he suddenly bent down and picked up the half smoked cigarette. Then he turned his head quickly to the elevator operator. The man was looking at him hard. Jeff felt as if the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. “Here is your floor, Mr.” The operator said. Jeff stood up slowly, his face felt hot with shame. His hand closed tightly around the cigarette, crushing it. He wanted to tell the operator that he never did that sort of thing. He wanted the man to know he did not need to smoke cigarettes some one else had threw away. After all, he had his job back. As the elevator doors opened, Jeff felt if he were in another country. In this strange land, poor and hungry men in old blue coats talked to themselves. In this land of dead, having a job meant nothing. He suddenly realized that sometimes, during the last four years, he had learnt to live without oyster soup; he had learnt to live without joy and without pride. He had learnt to pick up used cigarette. Jeff felt the elevator operator’s eyes on him. He looked into the man’s face. “Funny, isn’t it?” Jeff said, laughing a little. “I just got my job back today after four year.” The elevator operator smiled. “I guess you must be feeling pretty good.” He said. “Yes, I am.” Jeff said. He opened his hand and looked at the crushed cigarette. He did not feel any shame any more. He realized he was not in the land of dean land. He had been there for four years. But he was not there now. A lot of people had been to that land. And many of them had found their way back. He knew he would never be alone again. Jeff touched the operator’s shoulder as he stepped out the elevator car. “I will be seeing you.” He said. The elevator doors closed behind him and he opened freshly painted door of his office. “I have got my job back.” Jeff Miller said to himself. You have just heard the American story called two rose who wait written by Ilyke Moll. Your storyteller was Larry West. Two rose who wait was published by Charles Scraper Sons. It was adapted for Special English by Dona de Sanctis by permission of Harrod Ober Associate St. Corporate. This story is copyrighted. All rights reserved. For VOA Special English, this is Shep O’Neal.
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