What made "my" childhood particularly beautiful and cordial? Please summarize it from three aspects: people, things, and scenery.

1. "When I was young, imagine that I was a beehive. All kinds of ordinary rough people, like bees, sent the knowledge and ideas of life into the beehive. They did their best to do what they could. The generosity I received greatly enriched my soul. This kind of honeycomb is often dirty and bitter, but as long as it is knowledge, it is honey.”

This is a sentence in the book, we. Everyone living in life is not, as Gorky said, influenced by everyone around him, no matter good or bad, they just take it all in anyway.

2. Grandpa’s thin but well-proportioned body leaned against me. He talked about the difficult years of his childhood. His words were rude and difficult to understand, but his words were smooth and organized. rational.

His green eyes were full of passion and sparkling, and his golden fur stood up happily; his high-pitched voice became thick and heavy, and he boasted in my face: < /p>

"You came here on a ship, and steam brought you here. But when I was young, I had to rely on my own strength to draw fiber and sail against the current on the Volga River. The ship was moving in the water, and I was naked. I stretched my legs on the shore, stepping on the sharp and sharp gravel, and kept pulling and pulling from sunrise to night. The back of my head was so hot that oil was boiling, and my head was like burning pig iron. Yes, but I have to keep pulling, my head is bent, my bones are rattling, my face is covered with sweat, I can't open my eyes with sweat, I can't see the road, I just want to cry, tears can't stop flowing. Liao Sha, you have to know that you can't say anything! You can only work hard and keep walking. Sometimes the rope slips and falls, and you end up chewing mud. It's time to be happy, but your strength is exhausted, and you fall. I can take a breath and rest for a while. You see, this is what God sees with his own eyes, what kind of life people live, right in front of the merciful Lord Jesus! ... In this way, I walked along the Volga! It took three trips to the banks of this mother river: from Simbirsk to Rybinsk; from Saratov to here; and from Astrakhan to Makariev’s market. These three trips were enough. Thousands of versts! In the fourth year, I became the foreman on the barge because I showed my talent to my boss..."

Listening to my grandfather’s story, I seemed to feel that He grew up quickly like a cloud, from a skinny little old man to the Hercules in the fairy tale. He pulled a huge gray cargo ship up the Volga River alone with a rope...

Sometimes he jumped out of bed, waved his hands in a lively manner, and showed me how the trackers walked pulling the tow rope, and how the trackers drained water from the cabin, while singing the trackers' songs. Later he He jumped back on the bed like a young man, his every move became unusually graceful, and his voice became deeper and thicker. He continued:

"Listen, Alyosha, when we stop and take a rest, the scene is different. In the evening of summer, near Riguli Town, we usually I found a place at the foot of the green mountain, built a bonfire, and cooked porridge on the bonfire. A poor tracker sang a beloved song, and everyone followed him and howled, and the shouts were ear-splitting for you to listen to. I was trembling all over. At this time, the water of the Volga River seemed to flow faster, and the river ran like a wild horse, rushing straight into the sky! At this time, all the pain disappeared like dust in the wind. Sometimes, everyone just sings, and the porridge in the pot overflows, and the tracker who is responsible for cooking has to take a spoon on his head. You can play as much as you want, but you can't forget what you should do! ”

Someone poked their head into the house several times and asked grandpa to go out, but I was stopped every time. I begged:

“Don’t leave!”

Grandpa always smiles and waves to people, saying:

“Wait a little longer...”

——————This clip mainly describes two There are two scenes: one is the scene when the trackers are pulling fiber, the other is the scene when the trackers are resting. The two scenes vividly and realistically show the full picture of the life of Russian trackers in the first half of the 19th century. On the one hand, the work of trackers is heavy, painful and unbearable. When sailing barefoot against the current, there is a sun above that can make your head boil with oil, and there are sharp and sharp gravels below. The bent head is nodding to the ground, the bones all over the body are rattling, and the sweat is so drenched that you can't see the road. Even falling down is something to be happy about, because you can take a chance to catch your breath.

This scene reminds people of the image of trackers shown in the oil painting "Trackers on the Volga" by the famous Russian painter Repin. The life of a tracker is heavy and arduous. Here the author adheres to his realistic writing principles, without exaggeration or imagination. He uses line drawing to depict the arduous steps of a tracker desperately pulling fiber under the scorching sun, which makes people moved after reading it. But on the other hand, the trackers' attitude towards the heavy life is cheerful and optimistic. While taking a rest, they cooked and sang their favorite songs. The shouts were so loud that they didn't even know the porridge was spilled. Faced with the hardships of life, they did not sigh or be silent. Instead, they worked hard when working and vented when they rested. In order to show the heroic singing of the trackers, the author uses the water of the Volga River to set it off. "At this time, the water of the Volga River seemed to flow faster, and the river water galloped like a wild horse, soaring into the sky." Comparing the working scenes during the day with the resting scenes in the evening, we can see the tragedy and contrast of the life of Russian trackers. The optimistic and cheerful attitude towards life is clearly reflected.

This fragment is the most heavily discussed among the few positive descriptions of Grandpa in the whole book "Childhood". As Alyosha listened to his grandfather's story, he felt that his grandfather had become a character in his grandmother's fairy tales. From a skinny little old man to a strong man in the fairy tales, a man pulled a huge gray cargo ship up the Volga River with a rope. And up. This also shows that in addition to being cruel, selfish, cold-blooded, and stingy, my grandfather also had some good qualities. If it hadn't been for the persecution of society at that time, maybe he would not have become the evil person that Alyosha hated and hated later. It is an indictment of the dark society.

A long time ago, I understood that my grandfather had a God, and my grandmother had another God.

Every day when grandma wakes up, she sits on the bed for a long time and combs her enviable long hair. Every time, she struggles to comb out some hair. She is afraid of waking me up, so she curses in a low voice:

p>

"Ghost hair, a hateful thing..."

I combed my hair, braided it, washed my face twice, blew my nose, and still had an angry look on my face. divided. His works include "The Theory of Qianfu". See "Ethics", stood in front of the icon, and began to pray.

Only prayer could truly restore her life.

She straightened her back, raised her head, and gazed at the Virgin's face peacefully. She made the sign of the cross and prayed in a low voice:

"The most glorious Virgin, you are Source of joy, you are the apple tree in bloom! ”

Every day she found new words to praise the Blessed Mother, and every time I called her in prayer with all my concentration.

"The purest heart, my protector, my benefactor, my Holy Mother!

"You are the golden sun, sweep away the cancer on the earth, don't Let no one be bullied and certainly don't let me suffer bad luck for no reason. "

Her smiling eyes were piercing, and she seemed to be much younger all of a sudden. She raised her heavy hand and slowly made the sign of the cross on her chest.

"Jesus Christ, Son of God, please show me grace, for the sake of Our Lady..."

Her prayer time in the morning is usually not very long because she has to make tea. If the tea is not prepared, grandpa will curse her.

Sometimes, grandpa gets up earlier than grandma. When he comes to the top floor and sees her praying, he will curl his lips contemptuously. , and when he stayed for a while to drink tea, he would say:

"I have taught you Jin Shao once, but you are such an idiot and always do things your own way. You are simply a weirdo." Believers, can God tolerate you? "

"He understands me. No matter what I say or how I say it, he will understand it. ”

“Okay, you damn Chuvash...”

Grandma’s God will always go with her, and she will even mention God to animals; whether it is human or Dogs, birds, bees, and plants all obey her God; God is equally kind and kind to everything in the world.

The mistress of the hotel had a cat that was greedy and lazy. , is also very good at flattering people. He has a pair of golden eyes and a cloud of hair, and everyone likes him very much.

Once, this cat took away a myna from the garden, and my grandma snatched the almost tortured bird from its mouth:

"Aren't you afraid that God will punish you, villain!"

When others laughed at her, she scolded them.

"Don't think that beasts don't know God! Every living thing knows God, no less than you, you heartless guys..."

She was talking to old Masharapu .

"Don't be listless all the time, God's labor!"

The old horse shook his head.

Grandma didn’t talk about God’s name as much as grandpa did.

I think Grandma’s God is easy to understand and not scary, but you can’t tell any lies in front of Him.

Because you were embarrassed to do that, it aroused a sense of shame in my heart. Because of this, I did not tell my grandma a lie.

Once, the hostess of the restaurant had an argument with my grandpa. She also scolded my grandma and threw carrots at her.

Grandma said calmly:

"You are so confused!"

This incident made me very angry.

I want revenge on this fat woman!

According to my observation, the main ways neighbors retaliate against each other are: cutting off cat tails, poisoning dogs, killing chickens, secretly pouring kerosene into pickle barrels, and pouring kvass barrels Pour out the spill... I want to take a more drastic approach.

That day, I saw an opportunity. The hostess of the restaurant went down to the cellar. I closed the cellar door, locked it, did an avenger dance on it, threw the key on the roof, and ran back to the kitchen. Grandma is cooking.

She didn't immediately understand why I was so happy, but when she did, she immediately kicked me in the butt and told me to get the key back immediately.

I had no choice but to comply.

Hiding in the corner, he watched silently as she talked kindly to the fat woman who had just been released, and laughed together.

"What a boy!"

The hostess of the restaurant waved her fist at me, but her face was full of smiles.

Grandma dragged me back to the kitchen and asked:

"Why are you doing this?"

Who asked her to hit you with a carrot..." < /p>

“Oh, it turns out it’s for me! ”

“Watch if I don’t stuff you under the stove to feed the mice!” Tell your grandpa, he has to peel off a layer of your skin!

"Quick, go study..."

She ignored me all day. Before evening prayers, she sat next to me and taught me a few words. I can’t forget the words:

“Dear, you must remember not to interfere in adults’ affairs!

“Adults are being tested by God. They have all learned bad things. Don’t you No, you should live your life as a child.

"Wait for God to enlighten you and embark on the life path He has arranged for you, understand?

"As for who made what mistake, this is a very complicated matter. Things, sometimes God doesn’t know clearly. ”

“Does God know everything?” "

I asked in great surprise.

She sighed:

"If he knew everything, no one would dare to do many things. !

"He saw people looking down at the big temple from the sky. He looked at it again and again. Sometimes he would burst into tears. While crying, he said: 'My little people, dear people, how beautiful I am. I pity you?'"

At this point, she cried herself and went to pray.

Since then, her God has become closer to me and she understands me better.

My grandfather also said that God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient. He will give people kind help no matter what.

However, his prayers were completely different from those of his grandmother.

Every morning, he washed and washed, put on neat clothes, combed his brown hair, trimmed his beard, looked in the mirror, and then walked carefully to the icon.

He always stood still on the floor with the big wooden scar like a horse's eye, standing silently for a while, with his head lowered, like a soldier.

Then, he spoke solemnly:

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!"

The room suddenly became solemn, and the flies Flying very carefully.

He raised his eyebrows and raised his head, raised his golden beard, and recited the prayer meticulously:

"Why does the judge have to come? Everyone must deserve what he has done." ..."

He gently stroked his chest and asked firmly:

"I only treat you, don't look at my sins..."

His right leg moved rhythmically, as if in time for prayer.

"A doctor was born to heal me from years of pain. I call you from the bottom of my heart, Holy Mother of Mercy!"

His eyes were filled with tears:

< p> "God, for the sake of my faith, don't worry about what I do, and don't defend me!"

He kept crossing himself and clicking his fingers like a twitch. , making some very sharp sounds.

Later I went to a Jewish church and found out that my grandfather prayed like the Jews.

The samovar fizzed on the table, and the warm smell of black flour pancakes fried with milk residue floated in the room.

This whets my appetite.

Grandma had a gloomy face, lowered her eyelids, and sighed.

The happy sunshine shines into the window from the garden, the pearly dew shines with colorful light on the branches, and the morning air is filled with the fragrance of fennel, sour chestnuts, and ripe apples.

Grandpa is still praying:

"Extinguish the fire of my pain, I am poor and bad!"

The words of morning and evening prayers I I have memorized them all, and every time I recite the prayers to my grandpa carefully to see if he has made a mistake in reciting them!

This kind of thing rarely happens, but when it happens, I can't help being happy.

After my grandfather finished praying, he turned to us:

"Hello!"

We bowed immediately and everyone sat down around the table.

I immediately said to him:

"You missed the word 'compensation' today!"

"Nonsense!" But he was not confident at all. So the tone is not harsh.

"What a leak!"

"It should be 'But my faith compensates for everything!' But you didn't say 'compensate.'"

" Really?"

He was embarrassed.

I know he will do other things to retaliate against me in the future, but at this moment, I am so happy.

Once, my grandma said:

"Old man, God probably feels a little boring. Your prayers are always the same."

" Ah? You dare to say that!"

He roared fiercely.

"You never tell me what's in your heart!"

His face turned red, trembling, he picked up a plate and hit his grandma on the head:

p>

"You bastard!"

When he told me about the unlimited power of God, he always emphasized the cruelty of this power.

He said that if people sinned, they would be drowned, and if they sinned again, they would be burned to death, and their cities would be destroyed.

God punishes mankind with famine and plague, and rules the world with swords and whips.

"Anyone who opposes God will perish!" he said, knocking on the table.

I don’t believe God could be so cruel.

I think that all this is my grandfather’s imagination. The purpose is to scare me and make me fear him instead of fearing God.

I answered bluntly:

"Of course! How dare you not listen?"

"Then, why didn't grandma say that?"

< p> "She's an old fool!" he said sternly. "She is illiterate and has no brains. I won't let her talk to you about these big things!"

"Now answer me, how many official titles does an angel have?"

After I answer , and asked him:

"What's going on with these officials?"

"Nonsense!" He grinned, avoided my eyes, and bit his lip. ; "God does not serve as an official, being an official is a human matter."

"Officials eat the law, and they eat all the law."

---- ------------

------① There is only one letter difference between the Russian meaning "lawyer" and "law-eater". Grandpa admitted his mistake.

"Fajin?"

"Fajin, it's a habit!"

When he said this, he became energetic and his eyes shone.

"When people live together, they have agreed that this is the best. This is the habit, so this is the law!

"This is like what children do. For a game, you must first decide how to play it and set the rules. This rule is Fajin. "

"What does that official do? "

"Guan'er, like the naughtiest child, destroys all the children and all the laws! "

"Why? ”

“You don’t understand! He frowned and said:

"God is in charge of everything in the world!" ”

“Nothing in this world is reliable. All he had to do was blow. Everything in the world will turn into dust! "

I was particularly interested in the official, so I asked:

"But Uncle Yakov once sang this:

The official of God is Bringer of light.

The officials in this world are slaves of Satan! "

Grandpa closed his eyes, put the beard in his mouth, and bit it. His cheeks were trembling, and I knew he was smiling.

"Tie you and Yashiga together. Throw it into the river! This song is neither for him to sing nor for you to listen to. It is a pagan joke! "

He suddenly spoke, thoughtfully:

"Oh, people..."

Although he regarded God as unattainable , but like grandma, he invited God to participate in his affairs.

He also invited many saints.

Grandma knew nothing about these saints. I know Nikolai, Yuri, Flor and Rafael, they are also very kind to people. They travel to the countryside and cities, enter thousands of households, and intervene in people's lives.

Grandpa’s saints were all victims. Because they kicked down the statues and made noise with the Pope, they were tortured, skinned and burned to death!

Grandpa sometimes said this:

"God, please help me sell this house, even if I only make 500 rubles, I am willing to say a prayer of thanksgiving to Saint Nicholas!" "

Grandma said to me in a mocking tone:

"Nicholas even had to sell his house for this fool. It really seems like Nikolai has nothing good to do anymore. Done! ”

I have kept a notebook that my grandpa taught me to read for a long time. It contains various patterned words written by him.

For example, this sentence:

"My benefactor, teach me that "disaster" means that my grandfather began to lend money at usury and secretly accept pawns in order to help his unlucky sons.

Someone reported it, and one night the police burst in. After searching for a while, they found nothing, nothing happened.

My grandfather prayed until the sun came up, and wrote this sentence in a notebook in front of me in the morning.

Before dinner, my grandpa and I read poetry, prayers, and the holy book of Jephrem Silin.

After dinner, he began to pray again, and the voice of confession echoed in the room:

"How can I serve you, how can I repay you, immortal God..." Bless Don't be tempted, great God... "Bless me from being bullied by outsiders, holy God... "Cry for me, remember me after I die, omnipresent God..."

However, grandma often said:

"I am very tired today. It seems that I can't pray anymore. I have to go to bed." ”

My grandfather often took me to the church to go to evening prayers every Saturday and evening mass on holidays.

In the church, I also put people’s prayers for childbirth To make a distinction: everything the priest and deacon chant is a prayer to grandpa's God, while what the choir sings is grandma's God.

I am talking about the difference between the two gods in the eyes of children. This difference once tore my heart painfully

My grandfather’s God made me fearful and hostile, because he loved no one and always looked at everything sternly. He was constantly looking for humans. The sinful side.

He does not believe in humans, only in punishment.

My God loves all living things, and I am immersed in the radiance of His love. p>

During that period of time, God became the most important spiritual aspect in my life. If there were any other impressions in my mind, they were all cruel, dirty and ugly things. < /p>

I have never been able to figure out one question: why can’t my grandpa see that kind God?

My family never lets me go out to play in the streets because they are too dirty.

I don’t have many children, and the children on the street hate me; I don’t like them calling me Kashlin, and they become even more so. He called me deliberately:

"Hey, the grandson of Skinny Cash's family is here! "

"Hit him! "

A fierce battle.

I am not too young than them, and my strength is still good, but they are almost all the children on the street, and they are outnumbered. Every time I go home, my nose is bruised and my face is swollen.

When grandma saw me, she shouted with horror and pity:

"Oh, what's wrong, little carrot head?" ? A fight? Look at how miserable you are...

She washed my face, put a wet sponge on the bruised area, and advised me:

"Stop fighting all the time! You are so honest at home, why don't you act like one on the street?" Is it the same? I tell your grandpa, he has to lock you up..."

When grandpa saw me with a bruised nose and swollen face, he never scolded me, he just said:

"Bring on the medal again. You Alnwick warrior, you are not allowed to go out on the streets anymore, do you hear me?”

I’m not very interested in the quiet streets, but I suppress them when the children are making trouble outside. He kept trying to run out.

I don’t care much about fights. What I particularly hate are the pranks they pull:

Letting dogs bite chickens, torturing cats, chasing Jewish sheep, and insulting drunk people The beggar is nicknamed "the ghost in the pocket"

Idiot Igosha.

Igosha has a skinny and lanky figure, wearing a worn and heavy sheepskin coat. He walks with a hunched back, swaying back and forth, staring at the ground in front of his feet.

To my awe, he continued walking forward as if he didn't care at all.

But he would suddenly stop, stretch out, look at the sun above his head, adjust his hat, and look around for a while as if he had just woken up.

"Igosha, where are you going?

Be careful, there is a dead ghost in your pocket!" the children shouted.

He stuck his butt out, clumsily picked up the stones on the ground with trembling hands and fought back, cursing three dirty words that would never come out.

The children responded with a much richer vocabulary than he did.

Sometimes, when he limped to chase, his leather robe tripped him, and he fell to his knees, with two hands like dry branches supporting the ground.

The children took this opportunity to throw stones at him more violently. The brave ones grabbed a handful of soil and threw it on his head, then ran away like flying.

The saddest thing is Grigory Ivanovich.

He is blind and begging on the street. A short old woman held his hand, and he walked numbly, his tall body straight and silent.

The old woman led him to the door or window of the house:

"Okay, have mercy on this blind man, for God's sake!" < /p>

Grigory Ivanovich was silent, looking straight at everything in front of him with his dark glasses. The hand soaked in paint pulled his large beard.

I have often seen this tragic scene, but I have never heard Grigory say a word.

I feel so depressed in my chest!

I didn’t run to him. On the contrary, every time I stayed away from him and ran home to tell my grandma.

"Gregory is begging for food on the street!"

"Ah!" she exclaimed.

"Take it, send it to him quickly!"

I flatly refused.

So grandma went to the street in person and talked with Grigory for a long time.

He was smiling and twirling his beard like an old man taking a walk, but he only spoke a few words, not too many words.

Sometimes, grandma would take him home to have something to eat.

He would be willing to walk up to him, because that would be too embarrassing, and I know grandma is embarrassed too.

We all avoid talking about Gregory. Only once, after she sent him away, she walked back slowly, lowered her head and cried secretly.

I walked over and took her hand.

She looked at me:

"He is a good man and likes you very much. Why are you avoiding him?"

"Why did grandpa kick him out? ? ”

I didn’t answer her question, but asked her a question.

"Oh, your grandpa."

She stopped, hugged me, and said almost in a whisper:

"Remember my words , God will not let us go! He will definitely punish..."

Sure enough, 10 years later, the punishment finally arrived.

At that time, grandma had rested forever, and grandpa was begging crazily along the street, begging in a low voice:

"Give me a bun, okay, give me a bun!" Alas, you people..."

The former him now only has this poignant and exciting sentence left:

"Alas, you people..."

In addition to Igotha ??and Grigory who made me feel depressed and pointed out, there was another person who I avoided as soon as I saw it, and that was the prodigal Voronha.

During every festival, she will appear on the streets.

She was tall, with disheveled hair, and sang obscene songs.

Everyone avoided her, hiding behind the gate and in the corner.

As soon as she walked off the street, it seemed that the street was swept clean.

Sometimes she kept howling in a long and terrible voice:

"My children, where are you?"

I Ask grandma, what's going on?

"This is not what you should know!"

She replied solemnly.

Yes, grandma simply told me her story.

This woman’s original husband was Voronov, an official. He wanted to climb up the ladder, so he gave his wife to his boss, who took her away.

When she came back two and a half years later, her son and daughter were dead, and her husband had lost all the public funds and was in jail.

She was heartbroken, started drinking... and was often picked up by the police.

In short, home is still better than on the street.

Especially after lunch, my grandpa went to Yakov's dyeing shop, and my grandma sat by the window and told me interesting fairy tales and stories about my father.

Ah, what a wonderful time it was!

My grandma once rescued a myna from a cat's mouth, healed its injuries, and taught it to speak.

Grandma would often stand in front of the myna hour after hour, repeating endlessly:

"Hey, you said: Give my little myna - rice!"

The myna blinks humorously and imitates the calls of orioles, jays, cuckoos and even kittens. But it seems to be difficult for it to learn human language.

"Don't be naughty, say: Give my little bugger - food!"

Grandma kept teaching.

The Bago suddenly shouted loudly, as if it was this sentence. Grandma laughed, handed the Bago the rice with her finger and said:

"I think you can do it." , you can do everything!"

She taught the mynah to ask for food quite clearly. When she saw her grandma from a distance, she shouted at the top of her lungs: "You - okay - wow... …”

Originally, I hung it in my grandpa’s house, but after a short time, my grandpa drove it to the attic because it always imitated his speech.

Grandpa was praying, and the myna stretched out the tip of her yellow waxy nose from the cracks in the cage and shouted:

"Ball, ball, ball..." Bald, bald, Bald..."

Grandpa felt that this was an insult to him, stamped his foot and shouted:

"Get out of here, take this little devil away, or I will kill him if you return it. Got it! ”

There are many things worth remembering at home, which are very interesting. But a sense of depression that cannot be relieved forced me to nearly suffocate. It seems that I have always lived in a place where the sun cannot be seen. Deep. In the pit, I can't see or hear, like a blind or deaf person...