He was anxiously looking forward to calls from Zhao Botao and Du Zhuzhai. Their public bond speculation will decide the final outcome today! Since the day before yesterday, the market has been full of news about the Central Army's profit transfer on the Longhai Line. However, people still wait and see, with only a few sporadic small households buying in. Yesterday, all the newspapers wrote about the victory of the Central Army. As soon as the stock exchange started trading in the morning, various bonds rose by two or three yuan. The market was crowded with people, and the shouts were like a frontline charge. No words were heard. Qing, all I saw was that the palms stretched out on the field were pointing upward. However, Zhao Botao and others only released two million, and the bond price fell back again. The result was only about half a yuan higher than the day before yesterday. This is according to . It is said that the big short sellers still want to give it a try, and they will wait until today to see how the situation unfolds before they make up their money. Therefore, the victory or defeat of Wu Sunfu and others can be determined within these twelve hours. Tomorrow is the delivery period: ——(Mao Dun; "Midnight" pp. 183-184)
In a burst of crazy behavior, the terrible noise reached such a level that the brokers could not even speak to each other. Can't hear. They are completely caught up in the professional enthusiasm that motivates them, and they continue to dictate, because the deafening low tone in this area has long been unable to do anything, and the flute-like shrill sound in that area is even more weak to zero. . People saw them opening their mouths, but no clear sound came out of their mouths. Now they could only speak with their hands: turning the palms from inside to outside means throwing, and turning from outside to inside means buying. , the fingers are crossed to compare the quantity; the movement of the head is enough to express agreement or disagreement. This seemed to be an irrational action that shocked the crowd and was completely baffling to non-infielders. High above, on the telegraph station, the women's heads were tilted, and they looked surprised and horrified before this unusual sight. At the annuity exchange office, it can be said to be a kind of brawl, a kind of central assault, and even the appearance of fists. At least two streams of people came and went through this side of the hall, constantly causing the gathering crowd to change their status; these crowds were constantly dispersed and gathered together, like the waves of a ship's progress, constantly disappearing and constantly appearing. . Between the spot and futures offices, above the tidal wave of heads, only the three price record keepers still sat in their high chairs. They were like the remnants floating on the water after a shipwreck, and the few registers were just a few white traces. Due to the rapid changes in the prices reported to them, they had to fall sometimes to the left and sometimes to the right. Especially in the wing of the spot trading office, it was so crowded that you couldn't even see faces. You could only see dense crowds of heads squirming there in the dark. Only some small gold letters on the notebook shaking in the air were visible. Give those hair a little shine. The floor of the futures trading office was now filled with crumpled tags, forming a colorful festoon. Around the field, there are gray hair, shiny heads, faces pale with surprise, hands that grow like crazy, and bodies jumping around. If there were not those railings to stop them, , as if they would run out and devour each other. The panic of these last few minutes was contagious to all, and the crowds jostled each other in the hall, a great trampling, a confusion of cattle and sheep being placed in a passage that was too narrow. All the coats were crowded out of sight, and now only the satin hats shone in the dim light from the glass windows. ——([France] Zola: "Money" pp. 367-368)
Today is Harvey Maxwell's busy day. The stock market indicator began to spit out rolls of paper convulsively, and the telephone made a mistake that kept ringing. People began to crowd into the office, leaning out of the railings to call to him. Some were happy, some were panicked, some were harsh, and some were vicious. Letter boys ran in and out carrying letters and telegrams. The secretary in the office was jumping up and down like a sailor on a ship during a storm. Even Bi Qiu's expressionless face had a look that was almost alive.
There were hurricanes, landslides, blizzards, moving glaciers, and volcanic eruptions in the exchange, and those dramatic changes in nature were repeated on a small scale in the broker's offices. Maxwell pushed his chair against the wall, freeing himself to attend to business as if he were dancing on his toes. He jumped from the stock market indicator to the telephone, from the desk to the door, as nimbly as a well-trained clown. ——([US] O. Henry: "The Romance of the Busy Agent" "Selected Short Stories of O. Henry" p. 52) Good paragraphs: Famous paragraphs describing "march"
Endless The baggage trains raised billowing gray balls, covering everything. The vehicle squeaked forward, winding along the village road for dozens of miles. The mountains glowed blue ahead. The pillow thrown on the carriage shone red; the rake, shovel, and small wooden bucket were all upright, the mirror, and the fire pot were all reflecting the light in a dazzling way. The child's head and cat ears were among the pillows, among the piles of clothes, Bedding and rags were swaying in the middle; chickens were croaking in the coop; cattle were tied up in a string and walking behind; long-haired dogs were covered in berries, tongues hanging out, panting rapidly, hiding in the shade of the carriage. Walking inside. The carriage creaked noisily and was piled with household goods - men and women who had fled from home after the Cossack rebellion had greedily packed everything they could find into the carriage. ——([Su] Serafimovitch: "Iron Current" page 45)
The troops were shouting, waving torches and guns, dragging horses whose death was uncertain, and surged almost at the same time. Climb the road paved with branches. The frightened horses did not obey the command of the horseman and struggled like epilepsy. The horse behind them rushed into the horse in front like crazy, and the road paved with branches made a cracking sound, trying to open up. As they approached the other side, Michik's horse fell into the swamp. The crowd yelled angrily and used ropes to pull the horse up. Michik clutched the slippery rope convulsively, but the horse was struggling wildly, causing the rope to tremble in his hands. He pulled hard again and again, and even his own feet got caught on the willow branches in the swamp. . Finally, the horse was pulled up. Sishima's front legs were tied up with a rope knot. He couldn't untie it after a long time. In the extreme excitement, he actually bit it with his teeth - biting this bitter and soaked thing. The stench of the swamp and the knots of disgusting slime. ——([Soviet] Fadeev; pages 192-193 of "Destruction") Good paragraphs: Famous paragraphs describing "labor"
People at this time were already the same as when they were fighting and charging. : Some dropped their straw hats, some took off their shirts, all the sickles were shining brightly, as if people were flying, the sickles were flying, wheat lightning was flying, and there seemed to be fire in the wheat field covered with poplars. A whirlwind blows down the wheat piece by piece and blows it into sheaves. On the way from Baiyangtao to the village, the ox carts, mule carts, packs, and burdens are like running water in the wide places, and like twisting ropes in the narrow places. Wheat stacks are piled up in piles on the threshing floor. (Zhao Shuli: "Old Quota" "Zhao Shuli's Selected Novels" pp. 423-424)
The carts pulling wheat rushed out of the village, one, two, three... there was a roll behind the carts. Yellow smoke. The bells jingled, the horses' hooves clattered, the red tasseled whip crackled, the driver sang a Hebei tune, and the man sang a female tune at the top of his voice, which made people laugh! After a while, the cart drove into the wheat field, and followed the cart. The members of the commune, holding ropes and wooden rights in their hands, jumped out of the car one by one. One person jumped and couldn't stand still, causing a scene. The commune members who had just stopped their sickles all ran over automatically to help move the wheat, pile it up and load the carts. Some picked them with picks, while others grabbed them with their hands, picked up the wheat and threw it into the car. After a while, each car was loaded up like a hill, with a few people swinging on top, and a few strong young men below, shouting slogans and shaking the "win pole". The rope as thick as a small arm held the wheat. Clamped tightly... The carts were loaded one after another. They were filled to the brim and tall. The young man following the cart first threw the fork up from under the cart, and then people climbed up and lay down on the roof of the cart. , and rolled around on it, laughing and joking with the wheat harvesters.
The man on the handlebar shook his whip solemnly and proudly, and passed by. The animals in the long harness leaned on the shaft of the cart again, and shouted "Drive!", and the cart made a noise and walked back along the road. Swaying like a fat man who has eaten a lot of rice and stewed meat. (Haoran: "Sunny Sky" pp. 1194-1195)
We climbed up the embankment through the dense wind and snow, and when we saw it, drink! The light shone like daylight. I suddenly realized that this must be the water pumping station construction site of Wanjin Agricultural Cooperative. The caisson project is nearing completion. A large pipe is sucking water from the bottom of the pit like a black python, and the machines in a water pump room built on reed mats are making loud noises. Many people wore long rubber boots and tape pants and worked in the icy water. The overhead steel cables lift up the prefabricated cement blocks and then send them down below. Half of the base wall where the water pump is installed has been built. Along the edge of the huge pit, on the wooden springboards crisscrossed, people carrying mud and earth were busy going up and down. The electric lights hanging in the air were swaying in the wind, and the snow and mist were spinning, fluttering and flying like a white blanket. (Liu Baiyu: "A Warm Snowy Night" "Short Stories Since the Founding of the People's Republic of China" Volume 1, page 337)
Levin stared at Ivan Parminov and his wife more attentively. They were loading hay into the car not far from him. Ivan Parminov stood in the cart, receiving, putting away and smoothing down the large bundles of hay that his beautiful young wife deftly handed to him, first by the armful and then by the armful. Later I skewered it with a fork. The young peasant woman worked calmly, happily and quickly. The compacted hay was not easy to attach to her fork, so she first raked the hay loose, stabbed it in with the fork, then with a deft, elastic movement she put her entire body weight on the fork, and then immediately tied her Red Belt bent her back, raised her body, puffed out her plump breasts under her white shirt, flexibly turned her fork, and threw bundles of hay high into the car. Ivan obviously wanted to spare her unnecessary labor. He quickly opened his arms widely to receive the bundles of hay she threw, and placed them flatly on the side of the car. When she had raked up the last remnants of the hay, the young peasant woman brushed away the grass clippings that had fallen on her neck and straightened the red spots that hung down on her fair forehead, which had not yet been tanned by the sun. She climbed into the car to help tie the headscarf. Ivan showed her how to tie the rope to the crossbar, and he laughed loudly when she said something. The expressions on their faces reveal a strong, young, newly awakened love. ([Russian] Leo Tolstoy: "Anna Karenina" page 402)
After the poplar tree, strips of wheat fields stretched straight from the avenue like dazzling yellow carpets To the top of the mountain. The wheat on the hillside has been cut and bundled into bunches, but the wheat fields at the foot of the mountain have just been harvested... Six wheat harvesters stood in a row, waving their sickles, the sickles shining brightly, and they all sang "Fuxi" in time. , Fuxi!” the voice. From the movements of the peasant women shepherding the wheat, from the expressions of the harvesters, and from the light of the sickles, it can be seen that the heat is baking them, making them suffocated. A black dog with its tongue hanging out ran towards the carriage from the wheat cutter. It probably wanted to bark for a while, but it stopped halfway and looked indifferently at Janiska, who was shaking the whip to scare it. It was a hot day. Even the dogs refused to bark! A peasant woman straightened up, put her hands on her painful back, and stared at Yegorushka's red shirt. Whether it was the red color of the shirt that caught her fancy, or whether he reminded her of her children, she didn't know. Anyway, she stood there, motionless, staring at him blankly for a long time...([ Russia] Chekhov: "Steppe" "Selected Novels of Chekhov" page 157)
The two brown horses had run north and disappeared, but Quito knew; they were fast would have stopped because they were tired, and the mare might have continued on to the edge of the lake bed, back into the mountains she knew so well, where the truck could not track it. He drove the truck straight ahead, picking up speed, and in a minute he was behind the mare.
He drove to the left of the mare as the foal was running to her right. He noticed the mare's size and wondered if it was really a wild horse. He drove beside the mare, looking at the mare's flank with his eyes, trying to find a fire mark, but it seemed that the mare had never had a fire mark. Then, through his right car window, he saw the noose fly out and land on the mare's head. He also saw the mare's head raised high, and then moved back. He turned his head to the right, pressing the brake with his left boot, and saw the mare standing still dragging a tire. The free foal looked at the mare and trotted close beside her. With. So he drove straight ahead, across the flat lake bed, towards the two black spots, which quickly expanded until they turned into the two brown horses, who stood there quietly watching the driver. The truck is coming. He drove the truck between them, and as they took off, Pers, who was standing on the left, lassoed one, and Guy lassoed the other almost at the same time. ([U.S.] Miller: "The Misfits" "Collection of Contemporary American Short Stories" p. 170) Good Paragraphs: Famous paragraphs describing "funerals"
Hold the blank paper with the word "Yin" The deacons of the Wu Mansion, wearing long black cloth coats and wearing a heavy, long and wide belt made of white cloth around their waists, walked from the gate to the mourning hall as if they were shuttling under the scorching sun. In front of the big living room, he hurried back to the dog door to "invite" new visitors - all of them were sweating profusely from exhaustion. Before half past ten, the eight people in this class could sometimes sit with their buttocks pointed on the wooden bench next to the "drummer" at the gate for a minute or two, picking up the white cloth belt around their waists and wiping their faces. He was sweating, and replaced the fan with the white paper post with the word "Yin", took a breath, and complained that Mr. Wu San was unwilling to use more people. But when the poisonous sun shined directly above his head, the hanging guests came like a tide, and the crowd was full of people. The two groups of drummers at the door and in front of the mourning hall were playing without taking a breath. The deacons who "led" the way became like machines running back and forth. They didn't even have time to complain about Master Wu San. After thinking about it, I at least occasionally glanced at the six deacons serving in front of the mourning hall, and secretly envied their good luck. The horn of the car, the flute, the suona, the gongs of the small class, the mixed "sorrow and music", the shouts of "tea is poured somewhere, soda is opened somewhere", the quarrels at the meal counter when the bus departs, The spies patrolling the gate drove away the crowds; the spicy smell of cigarettes and the stench of human sweat all merged into one, permeating the halls and rooms of Wu Mansion and the eight or nine acres of the garden. (Mao Dun: "Midnight" p. 31)
When the ceremony was held, I felt a kind of panic, a premonition of the future, and I couldn't stand any longer. Finally, the body was put into a coffin and nailed. Then the funeral attendants placed the coffin on the hearse and set off. I only escorted him through one street. When we got there, the driver suddenly started driving the car at full speed, and the old man ran after the hearse - crying loudly, but the running movement made the cry tremble every now and then. On and off. Then his hat fell off, and the poor old man didn't stop to pick it up, even though the rain was beating on his head, the wind was blowing, and the snow and rain stung and hit his face. He ran from one side of the hearse to another, as if he did not understand this cruel thing - the sides of his old coat were blown by the wind like a pair of wings. Each pocket of his clothes was bulging with books, and he held a particularly large book under his arm, which he held tightly to his chest. As the funeral procession passed by, passers-by took off their hats and made the sign of the cross on their chests. Some passers-by stopped and stared at the pitiful old man in astonishment. From time to time a book slipped out of his pocket and fell into the mud, so when someone stopped him and told him to pay attention to the fact that his book had fallen, he stopped, picked it up, and ran to follow the hearse. At a corner of the street, a ragged old woman followed him closely, until the hearse turned, and I lost sight of her. ([Russian] Dostoyevsky: "The Poor" pp. 64-65)
Karatete's wife must not leave her husband alone in the grave. And the unfortunate woman herself did not want to live alone.
This is a custom as well as a duty. Such instances of martyrdom are common in New Zealand's history. Karatete's wife appears. She is still very young. Her hair was tangled on her shoulders, and she was howling and choking, her wails shaking the sky. She cried and complained, imitating the living sounds of the vague lake. Her lingering mourning and intermittent sentences all praised the character of the deceased. When her grief reached the extreme, she lay down at the foot of the mound and beat her head on the ground. At this time, the bone-gnawing demon walked up to her. Suddenly the poor victim wanted to get up again, but the chief waved the "wooden hammer" - a terrible big mallet - in his hand and pushed him to the ground again. She was furious. ([French] Verne: "Captain Grant's Children" p. 664)
He glanced at the crowd surrounding the tomb. They were all policemen, all wearing civilian clothes and the same raincoat. The same straight black hat, umbrella held in the hand like a sword, these strange wakers, the wind blew them here from nowhere, their loyalty seems unreal. Behind them, in echelons, the municipal band, dressed in black and red uniforms, had been hastily summoned, trying desperately to protect their golden instruments under their coats. They just gathered around the coffin, which lay flat there, a wooden box without wreaths or flowers, but a place of warmth, buried in the endless raindrops, which beat in a monotonous tone. Splashing on the ground, always the same, never ending. The pastor had already finished reading. No one noticed. There is only rain here, and people only hear the sound of rain. The priest coughed, first once, then several times. Then the bass trumpet, the trumpet, the horn, the cornet, and the bass flute all sounded together, arrogant and majestic, and the instruments shone golden in the rain curtain, but they also sank, dissipated, and stopped. Everything is hidden under umbrellas and raincoats. The rain kept falling. Shoes got stuck in the mud, and rainwater formed streams into the empty tomb. ([Switzerland] Durhenmatt: "The Judge and His Executioner" p. 45)
Everything has been prepared for the funeral. The senators lowered the coffin beside the funeral pyre. Van Lelia walked up, closed the dead man's eyelids, and according to the custom of the time, stuffed a copper coin into the dead man's mouth so that he could pay Xinglong to use it as a boat to cross the rough Akelon River. money. Then the widow kissed the deceased on the lips and said loudly according to the custom: "Farewell! According to the order arranged by God, we will follow you." The musicians began to play mournful music, and the devotees were playing In the sound, many animals designated as sacrifices were brought and killed, their blood was mixed with milk, honey and wine, and then sprinkled around the funeral pyre. After all this was done, the mourners began to pour sesame oil on the pyre, throw in various spices, and pile countless laurel wreaths and wreaths on it. There were so many wreaths that they not only covered the entire pyre, but were also stacked thickly around the pyre. A thunderous ovation rolled across the Place de Mars in answer to the homage paid to the dead by the young triumphant and conquering marshal of Africa. A burst of flame suddenly burst out, and then spread quickly. Finally, the entire pyre emitted countless winding and fluttering tongues of flame, and was enveloped by bursts of cloud-like, fragrant smoke. ([It means] Giovannioli, "Spartacus" page 246)
The old wife of Tagore Mukherjee died after having a high fever for seven days. Mr. Mukherjee Sr. made a fortune in the grain business. His four sons, three daughters, grandchildren, son-in-law, relatives, friends, and servants all came here, and it was like celebrating a big festival in a noisy manner. People from the village also came in droves to witness this grand and dignified funeral ceremony. The daughters cried and smeared a thick layer of rouge on their mother's soles, and put a streak of cinnabar on her middle-parted hair. The daughters-in-law put sandalwood ointment on their mother-in-law's forehead and wrapped her mother-in-law in expensive saris. The final touch of the feet.
Colorful flowers, green leaves, rich sandalwood, garlands of various colors, and no trace of sadness can be detected in the noise - this seems to be a wealthy housewife pretending to be a newlywed again after fifty years. The mother set off for her husband's house. Old Mr. Mukherjee calmly said his final farewell to his wife, secretly wiped away two tears, and began to comfort his daughter and daughter-in-law who were crying sadly. "Hari! Hari!" The thunderous praises shook the clear sky, and people in the whole village set off with the funeral procession... The crematorium was on the beach by the river outside the village. The wood, sandalwood chips, ghee, honey, rosin, and sal resin needed to burn the corpse there have been prepared. ...When the corpse was placed on the large and grand funeral pyre... everyone shouted the holy name of "Hari" in unison, and the son held a torch purified by the Brahmin priest's mantra, The funeral fire was lit...the fire in the son's hand. This is really not easy. Leave your husband, son, daughter, grandchildren, relatives, friends, servants - everything in the world in the blazing flames, the old Brahmin. My wife has gone to heaven. ([Indian] Chatterjee: "Oparji's Paradise" "Foreign Short Stories" Volume 2, pp. 462-463)