给孩子最美的教育-麦加菲美德读本

小鸟的晨曲
　　　　 　　
　　你是否也曾在母亲温情的呼唤中赖在床上不肯起来，享受着亲情的纵容？任何时候，家庭总会给我们*温暖的怀抱。儿时的歌谣很久不曾响起，但母亲的爱却永留心间。昔日的小鸟渐渐羽翼丰满，什么时候让我们也为母亲唱一首歌，只愿，她能忘却一天的劳累，在歌声中安心入眠。
　　　　
　　醒一醒，小宝贝，小鸟们都出来了，
　　而你还在巢里安睡！
　　连*懒惰的小鸟都在四处蹦蹦跳跳，
　　你该起来和它们一块儿玩耍。
　　醒一醒，小宝贝，快醒醒！
　　
　　哦，看看在你贪睡时所错过的，
　　闪亮的露珠，美丽的天空！
　　你错过的东西，我在歌中连一半也唱不完。
　　你却连“哼”都不“哼”一声，
　　醒一醒，小宝贝，快醒醒！
　　
　　妈妈已经唤了你很久，
　　我再也没有耐心为你歌唱，
　　小鸟们已经做完它们要做的事，
　　或许，它们就要来啄醒你！
　　醒一醒，小宝贝，快醒醒！
　　
　　Birdie's Morning Song　　　
　　
　　Wake up, little darling, the birdies are out,
　　And here you are still in your nest!
　　The laziest birdie is hopping about;
　　You ought to be up with the rest.
　　Wake up, little darling, wake up!
　　
　　Oh, see what you miss when you slumber so long，
　　The dewdrops, the beautiful sky!
　　I can not sing half what you lose in my song;
　　And yet, not a word in reply.
　　Wake up, little darling, wake up!
　　
　　I've sung myself quite out of patience with you,
　　While mother bends o'er your dear head;
　　Now birdie has done all that birdie can do:
　　Her kisses will wake you instead!
　　Wake up, little darling, wake up!
　　George Cooper
　　　
　　苏茜的作文

　　苏茜写出了一篇很好的作文，但实际上，她只是写出了她眼中看到的景色。没错，写作文并不是让我们去编故事，文字的作用就是帮我们记录下身边或者世界上发生的事情还有自己内心的感受。
　　当你把写作文当做任务时，它会是只难以逾越的拦路虎；而当你以平常心去看待它，你会发现它不过是只纸老虎。在人生的路上，你还会遇到很多类似的事情，比如考试，它将是拦路虎还是纸老虎，一切都取决于你。
　　
　　
　　一天，苏茜?史密斯放学回家，一进门就哭了起来。妈妈一边把女儿搂到身边，一边笑着问道：“怎么了，我的宝贝？”
　　“噢，妈妈，麻烦大了。”苏茜啜泣着，“所有同学明天早上都要交作文，我从来就写不出来。我们至少要写十二行，可我憋了快一个下午才写了几个字。看看我才写了点什么啊！”
　　史密斯太太拿起苏茜手里皱巴巴、浸着泪渍的纸，看看上面都写了什么。苏茜慎重地写下了三个主题：时间、自制和勤奋。
　　“时间是短暂的，我们都应该充分利用时间。”“自制是非常有用的。”“在这个世界上我们想做任何事情都要很勤奋。”这就是她写下的所有的句子。
　　苏茜说，“对这些主题我再也想不出一个词了，我知道，明天上学一定交不出写好的作文，我可不想从书上抄一篇或是求爸爸或你帮我写。”
　　“这就对了，亲爱的，”妈妈说，“自己写的作文再糟糕，也比请别人代写的漂亮文章让你感觉更好。不过，开心起来吧。你没有开好头，你是在尝试着写自己根本不了解的题目。去花园里玩吧，半小时后我会叫你的。”
　　“可是我的作文……”妈妈打断苏茜的话，说：“玩的时候别想作文的事，只管开心地去玩。”
　　好像只不过玩了几分钟，苏茜就听到妈妈喊她。她立刻跑回屋里，手里捧着花，小脸红扑扑的。
　　“现在，苏茜，我要你坐在窗前，取一张空白的纸和一支铅笔，写下你看到的东西。”妈妈吩咐说。
　　“可是我的作文呢，妈妈，我什么时候开始写我的作文啊？”苏茜问道。妈妈说：“别想你的作文了，亲爱的，先做我告诉你的，我们之后再谈作文的事。”
　　苏茜虽然觉得妈妈的要求有点奇怪，但是她知道妈妈不论做什么事情总是有她的道理的。所以她拿起纸笔，坐到窗前。
　　“不要和我讲话，往窗外看，写下对你所看到的东西的感受。”
　　苏茜禁不住笑起来，这真是一件好玩的事情。她向外望去，首先看到的是西边的天空和绚烂的晚霞。“哦，妈妈，多壮观的落日啊！”苏茜忍不住惊叹道。
　　“不要说，而是写下来。”妈妈回答。
　　“那我就写落日好了。”铅笔开始在纸上飞快地划过。几分钟后她说：“妈妈，我念给你听我写的东西好吗？”
　　“不，现在不行。我要去餐厅了，你坐下来继续写，等我回来。”妈妈嘱咐说。
　　苏茜继续写下去。她开始对自己做的事情感兴趣了。有那么一会儿，她完全忘了可怕的作文。她描写了晚霞，那远处的山丘、树木、河流，写下了开满鲜艳花朵的花园和飞过窗口的小鸟。
　　就在她都快写满一张纸的时候，妈妈进来了，笑着问：“苏茜，你的作文怎样了？”苏茜惊道：“作文？你可是告诉我别去理会作文的啊，我还没有想呢。我刚才只是非常开心地写下了我从窗户里看到的一切。”
　　史密斯太太拿过苏茜的稿纸，大声朗读起苏茜写的文字：“我坐在窗前的一张小矮凳上，窗户半开着，从这里可以闻到花园里飘来的缕缕花香。天空给落日染得绚烂极了，呈现出紫色、粉色和金色的颜色。我相信没有谁的颜料盒里会有这么漂亮的颜色。”
　　“我看到一朵云彩，高高在上，像一艘大轮船航行在蔚蓝的海面上。若是它不会让我眩晕的话，我真想坐在云彩上。现在，就在我写下这些的时候，云彩正变幻着不同的颜色和形状，每次都非常漂亮。”
　　“绿色山丘的山尖上镶着金边，看上去像披着金色的外衣。我可以看到远处的河流，远远看去非常宁静，尽管我知道它正飞快地奔向大海。”
　　“鸟儿飞过窗口，急着赶回家照顾小宝宝。我真高兴小鸟一点都不害怕住在我家花园里，它还在我家的树上筑巢呢。”
　　“我们的花园里种满了各种花：石竹、百合和玫瑰。我的生日再有一周就到了。到那时我们就可以用我们想要的花来编花环装饰野餐会了。”
　　史密斯太太说：“苏茜，你看，这其实是一篇很好的作文。” “一篇作文！”苏茜激动地喊道：“可以称得上作文吗？”
　　“是的，亲爱的，还是一篇好作文呢。”妈妈回答说。“就是还差一个题目。”
　　“我们来给它安一个题目吧。我确信你的老师会和我一样非常喜欢这篇作文的。你看，亲爱的，”妈妈接着说：“如果你描写自己感兴趣的事物，写作文其实是件很容易的事情。”
　　第二天早晨，苏茜整整齐齐誊抄了作文，高高兴兴地准备去上学了。当她和妈妈吻别的时候，苏茜说：“亲爱的妈妈，想想多有意思啊，我写了那么长的一篇作文，自己竟然都没有意识到。”
　　
　　英语的起源
　　英语的语源其实是德语。公元410年，罗马人结束了对英国的占领。随后，来自德国北部平原的三个日耳曼部落：盎格鲁人、撒克逊人和朱尔特人开始到不列颠定居。英语就是盎格鲁-撒克逊人的语言。但是后来这个民族曾经被很多个民族征服过，所以它包含了很多外来词汇，很多又难又拗口的词多数来自拉丁语和法语。
　　语言学家们一般把英语的历史分为三个时期：古英语，中古英语，现代英语。古英语时期（又称盎格鲁-撒克逊时期 theAnglo-Saxon Period）：公元449年至1100年；中古英语时期：公元1100年至1500年；现代英语时期（ModernEnglish）：公元1500年至今。
　　现代英语时期又细分为：早期现代英语时期——1500年至1700年；后期现代英语时期——1700年至今。
　
　　Susie's Composition

　　Susie Smith came home from school one day, and had no soonerentered the sitting room than she burst into tears. "What is thematter, my dear child?" said her mother, drawing her daughter toher side and smiling.
　　O mother, matter enough, sobbed Susie. "All our class must bringin compositions to-morrow morning, and I never, never can writeone. We must write twelve lines at least, and I have written only afew words after trying nearly all the afternoon. See what work Ihave made of it!"
　　Mrs. Smith took the rumpled, tear-stained paper which Susie heldin her hand, and glanced at what she had written. In a careful handshe had tried to write upon three themes: "Time," "Temperance," and"Industry."
　　Time is short. We should all improve our time. "Temperance is avery useful thing." "We should all be industrious if we wish to doanything in the world." These sentences were all she hadwritten.
　　Now, said Susie, "I can't think of another word to say upon anyof these subjects, and I know I shall have to go to school withouta composition, for I won't be so mean as to copy one from a book,or to ask you or papa to write one for me."
　　That is right, my dear, said her mother. "You will be far happierwith a poor composition, if it is all your own, than with a fineone written by somebody else. But cheer up. You have not begunright—you have been trying to write upon subjects that you knownothing about. Run into the garden and play. I will call you inhalf an hour."
　　But my composition, began Susie. "Don't think about yourcomposition while you are gone," said Mrs. Smith, "but have aspleasant a time as you can."
　　It seemed but a few minutes to Susie before she heard hermother's voice calling her. She went into the house at once—herhands full of sweet flowers, and her cheeks rosy withexercise.
　　Now, Susie, said her mother, "I want you to sit by the windowwith this nice sheet of paper and a pencil, and write somethingabout what you can see." "But my composition, mother," said Susie;"when shall I begin that?" "Never mind your composition, my dear;do this to please me, and we will talk about that by and by."
　　Susie thought her mother's request was a strange one; but sheknew that she always had a good reason for everything she did: soshe took the paper and pencil, and sat by the window.
　　Do not talk to me at all, said her mother. "Look out of thewindow, and then write down your thoughts about everything yousee."
　　Susie could not help laughing, it seemed such a funny thing to bedoing. As she looked out, she first saw the western sky and somebright, sunset clouds. "O mother!" she exclaimed, "what a splendidsunset!" "Don't talk," said her mother, "but write."
　　I'll write about the sunset, then, said she, and the pencil beganto move rapidly across the paper. In a few moments she said,"Mother, shall I read you what I have written?" "No, not now,"answered her mother; "I am going into the dining room. You may sitand write until I return."
　　As Susie went on writing, she became very much interested in heroccupation, and for a time forgot all about the dreadedcomposition. She wrote about the sunset clouds, the appearance ofthe distant hills, the trees, the river, the garden with its gayflowers, and the birds flying past the window.
　　Just as she had reached the bottom of the page, her mother camein. "Well, Susie," said she, with a smile, "how does thatcomposition come on?" "Composition!" exclaimed Susie; "you told menot to think about my composition, and I have not thought of itonce; I have had such a nice time writing about what I could seefrom the window."
　　Mrs. Smith took the paper and read aloud what Susie had written:"I am sitting on a low seat at the bay window, one half of which isopen, so that I can smell the sweet flowers in the garden. The skyis all bright with sunset; I can see purple, and pink, and golden.I do not believe that anyone on earth has a paint box with suchlovely colors in it."
　　I can see one cloud, far above the rest, that looks like a shipsailing in the blue sea. I should like to sail on a cloud, if itwould not make me dizzy. Now, while I have been writing, the cloudshave changed in color and form, but they are just as beautiful asthey were before.
　　The green hills are tipped with light, and look as if they werewearing golden crowns. I can see a river a great way off, and itlooks quite still, although I know it is running as fast as it canto get to the ocean.
　　The birds are flying past the window to go home and take care oftheir little ones. I am glad the birds are not afraid to live inour garden, and to build nests in our trees.
　　Our garden is full of flowers—pinks, lilies, and roses. Mothercalls this the month of roses. My birthday will come in a week, andwe can have all the flowers we wish for wreaths and bouquets.
　　There, Susie, said Mrs. Smith, "that is a very nice composition,indeed." "A composition!" exclaimed Susie, "is that a composition?""Yes, my dear, and a very good one, too," replied her mother. "Whenit hasn't even a subject?"
　　We can find one for it, and I do not doubt it will please yourteacher, as it does me. You see, my dear, continued her mother,"that it is easy enough to write if you have anything interestingto write about."
　　The next morning Susie copied her composition very neatly, andstarted to school with a happy heart, saying, as she gave hermother a kiss, "Just think how funny it is, dear mother, that Ishould have written so long a composition without knowingit."