黑骏马(含盘) 内容简介

安娜·休厄尔1820年生于英国大雅茅斯。她很小的时候就在叔叔位于诺福克郡的农场上骑马。不过她经常生病，需卧床养病。50岁时，安娜开始构思《黑骏马(青少年必读)》，但因病情严重，不得不由母亲代笔记录。今天，人们骑马主要是为了休闲娱乐。可是在19世纪，马儿们被用来拉四轮马车、出租马车，或驮着骑手出门办事。他们的健康与幸福完全取决于主人与马夫。安娜·休厄尔总是为人们对工作中的马所表现出的残忍震惊。她创作此文意欲引起人们对英国维多利亚时代马儿悲惨工作状况的关注。此书全名是《黑骏马及其马夫与同伴；一匹马的自传，安娜·休厄尔从马的视角讲述》。安娜声称自己在讲述一匹马自己的故事，由此她便可从马的视角来创作此文，而读者也能体会到马的命运如何与马夫或者主人息息相关。《黑骏马》出版于1877年。一年后，安娜·休厄尔去世。生前，她并没有看到此书的巨大成功。《黑骏马》被译成多种语言，还被拍成电影。

黑骏马(含盘) 本书特色

《黑骏马》是一部十九世纪下半叶轰动欧洲文坛的经典儿童小说。小说主人公“黑骏马”是一匹漂亮的优种黑马，黑骏马通过自己的眼睛，用惟妙惟肖的语言，讲述了一个个娓娓动听的故事，让每个读故事的人都感到：动物通人性，我们怎样对待动物，动物就会怎样对待我们。

黑骏马(含盘) 目录

黑骏马(含盘) 节选

bsp;CHAPTER TWO
A stormy day
I was nervous when my new master came to ride me for the first
time. ! tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. Squire Gordon
was a good rider, and very thoughtful towards me. He took me to
meet his wife.
"He is a pleasant creature," the Squire told her. "What shall
we call him?"
"Would you like Ebony?" she asked. "He is as black as ebony
wood."
"No, not Ebony," said her husband.
"Blackbird?" she suggested, "like your uncle's old horse?"
"No," he replied, "he is far more handsome than old
Blackbird ever was."
"Yes," agreed his wife, "he really is quite a beauty. He has
such a sweet-tempered face, and such intelligent eyes. Why don't
we call him Black Beauty?"
"Black Beauty it is!" laughed the Squire.
"I would have called him Rob Roy," said James, the
stableboy, to his friend. "I've never seen two horses more alike."
"That's because they had the same mother," replied his
friend.
I felt sad. Poor Rob Roy who was killed at the hunt had been
my brother !
1 soon made friends with Merrylegs and Ginger, the other
horses in my stable, and we spent many happy times talking under
the apple trees in the orchard. I liked Merrylegs, a small, plump
pony who belonged to the Squire's children; but at first, I was a
little afraid of Ginger, a tall chestnut mare, because she was so
bad-tempered. Then I learned later that she had been badly treated
in the past. We soon became good friends. We were both good for
riding and for driving because we both had some racing blood in us.
And we were both about the right height -- fifteen and a half hands
high.
I was very happy in my new home. I had a light, airy stable
and plenty of good food. What more could I want? Well, I wanted
my freedom! For the first three and a half years of my life, I had
run and jumped in the fresh air, in green fields. But now, week
after week, month after month (and probably year after year!), I
had to stand up in my stable. I only went outside when somebody
needed me. I was young and I longed to gallop over the fields with
my tail blowing in the wind.
John, the coachman, knew this. Sometimes, he used to ride
me through the village and into the hills for a while. He knew how
to calm my high spirits. Other horses are not so lucky. Their
masters beat them to quieten them.
But one stormy autumn day, I had more exercise than I wanted.
My master had to make a long business journey. John harnessed
me to a small light carriage, then sat on top with the master. The
wind was blowing hard and there had been a lot of rain during the
night. Soon, we came to a small wooden bridge. I looked down in
surprise. The river was very high, and still rising.
My master went into the town on business and we set off for
home later than usual. The wind shrieked in the trees and the
branches swayed like twigs.
"I've never been out in such bad weather," John said.
"I wish we were well out of this wood," replied the master.
Suddenly, there was a groan, and a crack and a splitting sound.
An oak tree fell right across the road in front of us. I was very
frightened and I stopped, trembling. But I am proud to say that I
did not turn around or start to run.
"Well, sir," said John, "we can't drive over that tree nor
round it. We shall have to go back to the crossroads. It will be at
least six miles before we get round to the wooden bridge again. But
the horse is fresh."
It was almost dark by the time we got back to the bridge. We
could see the water over the middle of it. I was going fast, but the
moment my feet touched the first part of the bridge, I felt that
something was wrong.
"Go on, Beauty," said my master. He whipped me gently at
first, then hard.
I refused to move.
"Come on, Beauty, what's the matter?" asked John.
I wanted to tell him that the bridge was dangerous; but of
course, I couldn't. Just then, the man at the bridge toll-gate, on the
other side of the river, saw us and came out.
"Stop! Stop!" he shouted above the wind. "The bridge is
broken in the middle. The water has swept some of it away."
"Thank God!" said my master.
"You Beauty!" said John as he gently turned me round.
We travelled in silence for a while. Then I heard my master's
voice.