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马车摇晃着，轻快地经过路边的田野与果园，一群群的妇女和孩子们，有的正将水果往筛子上堆，有的则在捡散落的玉米穗子，他们稍停了会儿手中的活，用深褐色的手遮在晒黑的脸上，以好奇的眼神望着乘客；一些结实的小顽童，太小还不能上学，但又不能把他们留在家中胡闹，原先被安置在篮子里是出于安全的考虑，这时也爬过了篮边，高兴得又踢又叫。收割的人停下了手里的活，双臂交叉地站着看马车通过；而毛茸茸的拖货车的马也睡眼惺忪地向那灵巧的马车队看了一眼，它的眼神很明白地表露出：“看看倒是不错，但在崎岖的田地上慢慢走，总比那么辛苦地工作要好，尤其是在尘土飞扬的路上。”当你拐过路角时，回头瞧瞧你的身后吧。妇女和孩子们又开始干活了：收割的人又弯下了腰，拖货车的马已继续前进。所有的一切又恢复了工作。
August
Charles Dickens
There is no month in the whole year； in which nature wears a more beautiful appearance than in the month of August。 Spring has many beauties； and May is a fresh and blooming month； but the charms of this time of year are enhanced by their contrast with the winter season。 August has no such advantage。 It es when we remember nothing but clear skies； green fields； and sweet…smelling flower—when the recollection of snow； and ice； and bleak winds； has faded from our minds as pletely as they have disappeared from the earth—and yet what a pleasant time it is！ Orchards and cornfields ring with the hum of labours； trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground； and the corn； piled in graceful sheaves； or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it； as if it wooed the sickle； tinges the landscape with a golden hue。 A mellow softness appears to hang over the whole earth； the influence of the season seems to extend itself to the very wagon； whose slow motion across the well…reaped field； is perceptible only to the eye； but strikes with no harsh sound upon the ear。
As the coach rolls swiftly past the fields and orchards which skirt the road； groups of women and children； piling the fruit in sieves； or gathering the scattered ears of corn； pause for an instant from their labour； and shading the sunburnt face with a still browner hand； gaze upon the passengers with curious eyes； while some stout urchin； too small to work but too mischievous to be left at home； scrambles over the side of the basket in which he has been deposited for security； and kicks and screams with delight。 The reaper stops in his work； and stands with folded arms； looking at the vehicle as it whirls past； and the rough cart…horses bestow a sleepy glance upon the smart coach team； which says； as plainly as a horse’s glance can； “It’s all very fine to look at； but slow going； over a heavy field； is better than warm work like that； upon a dusty road； after all。” You cast a look behind you； as you turn a corner of the road。 The women and children have resumed their labour； the reaper once more stoops to his work； the cart…horses has moved on； and all are again in motion。
雾
＇英国＇乔治·斯莱思·斯特里特
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乔治·斯莱思·斯特里特（1867—1936），英国作家，散文家，是一个写小品文的能手。在本篇中，作者通过切身的体验，描述了他对世界闻名的雾都——伦敦的感受。
无论它是美还是不美，伦敦的雾总是有值得大书特书的地方。它能给我们带来每时每刻都需要的那种“变化”。最初，这个世界几乎是白茫茫的一片，然后，慢慢地一点一点地清晰起来，这和我们平常所见完全不同。这时，就算是最愚蠢的人也不会察觉不到眼前的景物起了变化。这种变化之大，绝不亚于从伦敦到格拉斯哥。又比如，回到家里或来到俱乐部，这种平凡单调的日常琐事，在雾天也几乎成为惊人的壮举，完成之后不免要深深地松一口气，自幸安全脱险——这时人们至少得到一种不同寻常的新鲜感。这时我们已经不像是一个到俱乐部去玩的人，而像是一个航行遇险的海员在命悬一线之际，终于得救，并且受到一群以前非常淡漠而这时却非常激动的侍者们的热烈欢迎。的确，一场迷雾带给伦敦人的变化非常之大，比去里维埃拉避雾度假所带来的变化都要大。其次，雾还能使人的善良之心和喜悦之情充分表现出来，这是伦敦人引以为荣的两大特点。当然，它也会把富人的那种极度的自私自利揭露出来。那些几乎是无忧无虑地活在世上的人，自然会因为这点小小不便或痛哭流涕，或咒骂不已。但是为生计奔波的伦敦人，比如那些马车夫和汽车夫，比如你和我，却会把我们那种欢快心情充分展现出来。某个星期一，我在海德公园拐角那个街区的一辆公共汽车顶端乘坐过半个小时，并与司机攀谈。人们往往对一个汽车司机感到失望，因为他们认为他应该会说会骂，而他却没有这类长处。但是我们应该看到，这是个工作非常辛苦但却又非常快乐的人，非常勤快，服务周到，笑口常开。他在自己的工作上是个行家——这点在雾天最能突出显现出来，而他对工作的高熟练程度，对于那种凭借经验，总以为从事实际行业的人来说，往往不是愚蠢就是冒失，因而对于绝大多数都不称职的人士来说，总是一件快事吧。最后我离开他时，他的副手引我绕过车轮马蹄，一直把我送到人行道上。这时我有一种感觉，觉得我周围的确都是好人。上周日的晚上，我曾步行一英里回到我的寓所，一路上，我每碰到一个人就向他问路。但是没有一个人给予粗鲁甚至仓促的回答：每个人都是彬彬有礼，俏皮风趣，谈古论今，有说有笑。我们这个民族确实是个友好的民族，有必要通过一场雾来体会这一点。雾的另外一种乐趣，与我们听到某个百万富翁摔断了腿时所感到的那种乐趣相差无几，只是比较温和而已。那种命运特别好的人往往并不快乐，即使健康良好也不能把它驱除掉。在某个街区的一辆宽敞的布鲁厄姆马车上坐着一位派头十足的老头，他口吐白沫。看到这个情景，人们不禁会想，在这件事上，命运总算暂时是公平的。
这些就是我们在一场伦敦的雾中所找到的一些乐趣。
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人生如雾，雾如人生。雾意正浓时，叫人不知如何是好，只能在雾中游荡。云开雾散时，前面的方向豁然开朗，一切都变得清晰明朗。作者通过切身的感触，深入形象地描绘出了雾都伦敦的景象。一场迷雾带给伦敦人的变化的确很大，它不仅能使人的善良之心和喜悦之情充分表现出来，它也把富人的自私自利暴露了出来，可谓是人间百态尽在雾中展现。
Fog
G。 S。 Street
Beauty or none； there is much to be said for a London fog。 It gives us all that “change” which we are always needing。 When our world is all but invisible； and growing visible bit by bit looks utterly different from its accustomed1 self； the stupidest of us all can hardly fail to observe a change for our eyes at least as great as there would have been in going to Glasgow。 When； arriving at one’s house or one’s club； that monotonous2 diurnal incident seems an almost incredible feat； acplished with profound relief and gratitude for a safe deliverance； one has at least an unaccustomed sensation。 One is not a man going into his club； but a mariner saved from shipwreck3 at the last gasp； to be greeted with emotion by erst4 indifferent waiters。 Yes； a fog gives Londoners a more thorough change than going to the Riviera to avoid it。 Then it brings out the kindness and cheerfulness； which are their prime claim to honour； into strong relief。 True； it also throws into relief the inparable egoism of the prosperous among them。 People with no serious cares or worries in the world of course bemoan and upbraid this trifling inconvenience。 But the working； struggling Londoners； cabmen and busmen； you and I； display our indomitable5 good…humour to advantage。 I stayed on top of a bus for half an hour in the block on Monday at Hyde Park Corner and talked with the driver。 People are often disappointed in a bus…driver because they expect a wit and a pretty swearer。 They find neither； but they find an overworked man of extraordinary cheerfulness； responsive； ready to laugh。 He is master of his business—a fact emphasised by the fog—to a degree refreshing to one whose experience of men professing some practical calling is that the great majority； some from mere stupidity； some from over…hasty enthusiasm； are quite inpetent。 When finally I left him； his mate piloted me through wheels and horses to the pavement； and I felt I had been among folk who deserve to live。 On Sunday night I walked a mile to my abode； and made a point of asking my whereabouts of every one I met。 Not one churlish or even hurried answer： politeness； jokes； reminiscences； laughter。 We are a kindly people； and it is worth a fog to know it。 Anoth