Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.
I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.
There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.
A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.
Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.
I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”
He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.
I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.
When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.
I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.
“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.
At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!
“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.
Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.
Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.
No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.
【小题1】The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.

I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.

There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.

A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.

Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.

I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”

He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.

I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.

When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.

I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.

“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.

At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!

“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.

Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.

Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.

No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.

1.The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

2.What do we know about the author and the man sitting next to him?

3.On this journey on The Flying Bluebird, the author felt uncomfortable because ___________.

4.It can be learned from Para. 10 that the author was afraid that ____________.

5.The noise in the underlined sentence “a noise started above our heads”（Para.15）was made by __________.

6.What would be the best title for the text?

Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.

I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.

There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.

A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.

Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.

I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”

He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.

I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.

When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.

I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.

“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.

At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!

“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.

Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.

Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.

No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.

1.The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

2.What do we know about the author and the man sitting next to him?

3.On this journey on The Flying Bluebird, the author felt uncomfortable because ___________.

4.It can be learned from Para. 10 that the author was afraid that ____________.

5.The noise in the underlined sentence “a noise started above our heads”（Para.15）was made by __________.

6.What would be the best title for the text?

D
My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could
make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to
be called Pip.
As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first imagination regarding what they were like, were unreasonably from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father’s gave me a strange idea that he was a square, dark man , with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the words, “Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,” I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled（长雀斑的）and sickly.
Ours was wet country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on an unforgettable cold afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this place overgrown with nettles（荨麻）was the churchyard（墓地）;and that Philip Pirip, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children to the aforesaid, were also dead and buried. Suddenly I began to feel lonely and sad and afraid. I began to cry.
"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!"
A fearful man, all in grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been shivered; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.
"Oh! Don't cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir."
"Tell us your name!" said the man.  "Quick!"
"Pip, sir."
"Once more," said the man, staring at me.  "Give it mouth!"
"Pip. Pip, sir."
“Show us where you live ,” said the man. “Point out the place!”
I pointed to where our village lay, among the alder-tree, a mile or more from the church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned mw upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a  piece of bread. When the church came to itself—for he was so sudden and strong that he made to go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple（尖塔）under my feet—when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread hungrily.
“You young dog,” said the man, licking his lips, “what fat cheeks you have got.”
I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong.
“Darn me If I couldn’t eat them,” said the man, with a threatening shake of his head.
I carefully expressed my hope that he wouldn’t, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying.
“Now look here!” said the man. “Where’s your father?”
“There sir!” said I .
He started, made a short run, and stopped and liked over his shoulder.
“There sir!” I explained. “That’s his grave.”
“Oh!” said he, coming back.
“And mother’s there too, sir. And my five little brothers.”
67．Who do you think Alexander is?
A．Pip’s friend.                    B．Pip’s father.
C．One of Pip’s little brothers.     D．The fearful man.
68．It can be learned from the passage that               .
A．Pip’s mother was freckled and ill.
B．Pip imagined what his parents liked through their photographs.
C．Pip’s parents and little brothers were killed by the man.
D．Pip was probably shorter or thinner than most children of his age.
69．What is the fearful man most likely to be?
A．An escaped prisoner.       B．A minister of the church.
C．A tower watcher.           D．Pip’s parents’ enemy.
70．Which of the following is right according to the passage?
A．It was the words on the tombstones that made mw know of my parents’ appearance.
B．The man was so hungry that he wanted to cut his throat and eat his fat cheeks.
C．Pip’s parents were buried together in the churchyard 20 miles from the village.
D．He called himself Pip just because he was too young to pronounce his long name clearly.

D

My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could

make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to

be called Pip.

As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first imagination regarding what they were like, were unreasonably from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father’s gave me a strange idea that he was a square, dark man , with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the words, “Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,” I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled（长雀斑的）and sickly.

Ours was wet country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on an unforgettable cold afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this place overgrown with nettles（荨麻）was the churchyard（墓地）;and that Philip Pirip, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children to the aforesaid, were also dead and buried. Suddenly I began to feel lonely and sad and afraid. I began to cry.

"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!"

A fearful man, all in grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been shivered; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.

"Oh! Don't cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir."

"Tell us your name!" said the man.  "Quick!"

"Pip, sir."

"Once more," said the man, staring at me.  "Give it mouth!"

"Pip. Pip, sir."

“Show us where you live ,” said the man. “Point out the place!”

I pointed to where our village lay, among the alder-tree, a mile or more from the church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned mw upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a  piece of bread. When the church came to itself—for he was so sudden and strong that he made to go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple（尖塔）under my feet—when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread hungrily.

“You young dog,” said the man, licking his lips, “what fat cheeks you have got.”

I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong.

“Darn me If I couldn’t eat them,” said the man, with a threatening shake of his head.

I carefully expressed my hope that he wouldn’t, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying.

“Now look here!” said the man. “Where’s your father?”

“There sir!” said I .

He started, made a short run, and stopped and liked over his shoulder.

“There sir!” I explained. “That’s his grave.”

“Oh!” said he, coming back.

“And mother’s there too, sir. And my five little brothers.”

67．Who do you think Alexander is?

A．Pip’s friend.                    B．Pip’s father.

C．One of Pip’s little brothers.     D．The fearful man.

68．It can be learned from the passage that               .

A．Pip’s mother was freckled and ill.

B．Pip imagined what his parents liked through their photographs.

C．Pip’s parents and little brothers were killed by the man.

D．Pip was probably shorter or thinner than most children of his age.

69．What is the fearful man most likely to be?

A．An escaped prisoner.       B．A minister of the church.

C．A tower watcher.           D．Pip’s parents’ enemy.

70．Which of the following is right according to the passage?

A．It was the words on the tombstones that made mw know of my parents’ appearance.

B．The man was so hungry that he wanted to cut his throat and eat his fat cheeks.

C．Pip’s parents were buried together in the churchyard 20 miles from the village.

D．He called himself Pip just because he was too young to pronounce his long name clearly.