ÊÖ»úÕõÇ®ÓÎÏ·ÅÅÐаñ2018, ÊÖ»úÈçºÎÕõÇ®¿ìÕý¹æ, ×öµ¼¹ºÂôÊÖ»úÕõÇ®»¹ÊÇÂô·þ×°ÕõÇ® ,²»Í¶×ÊÊÖ»úÔõôÕõÇ®¿¿Æ× ÊÖ»úÓÎÏ·Ôõôֱ²¥ÕõÇ® , 

 µçÄÔÕõÇ®»òÕßÊÖ»úÕõÇ®, ÔõôÏÂÔØÊÖ»ú¿´¹ã¸æÕõÇ®µÄÈí¼þÂð, ÊÖ»úÖÇÄܹã¸æÕõÇ® ,ÓÃÊÖ»úÕõÇ®µÄ¼¸´óÇþµÀ ÊÖ»úÏÂÔØÈí¼þÕõǮƽ̨ , 

 ÊÖ»úÓÎÏ·ÄÇЩÄÜÕõÇ®, ÊÖ»ú¸Éʲô×îÄÜÕõÇ®°¡, ÊÖ»úÌÔ±¦ÕõÇ®ÊÇÕæµÄÂð ,¿ÉÒÔÀûÓÃÊÖ»úÕõÇ®µÄ·½·¨ ÕõÇ®µÄËٶȸϲ»ÉÏÊÖ»ú , 

 ¸Ä´®ÊÖ»úÕõÇ®ÏîÄ¿, ÊÖ»úÕõǮѧÉú׬, ÊÖ»úÉÏÕæµÄ¿ÉÒÔÕõÇ®Âð ,ÕõÇ®ÊÖ»úÆÁ ÈçºÎÓÃÒ»²¿ÊÖ»úÀ´ÕõÇ® , 

 ÊÖ»úÈçºÎÕõÇ®Èí¼þ, ÊÖ»úÕõÇ®¶àµÄ, ÊÖ»úÃâ·Ñ¹Ò»úÕõÇ® ,ÊÖ»úÖ±²¥ÒÕÈË¿¿Ê²Ã´ÕõÇ® ×öÊÖ»ú·ÖÆÚ°ìÀíÕõÇ®Âð , 

´ýÔÚ¼Ò²»ÕõÇ® ×îÐÂÏà¹Ø½éÉÜ

�¥¥¥¥¤¤«¾¥¤¦

�¤¤¤

�õ¤¸¥·d¾©¿¥ÚÒÜ

"Three year or so. I started up town. But we've spoken enough about me. Let's hear about you, and the farm. How's Richard?"¤¥¥¥¥´¥¡¤¤¥ª

�¤Î祤¤¤Ë¤¤¥¤°

Hitherto any verse that had been written in the controversy had been meant for street singing, and turned out in the less serious moments of politicians who certainly were not poets. But "MacDonald's Gate" impressed the multitude as something altogether different. The sounding periods and the number of capitals proclaimed it poetry of the very highest order, and its prominent position throughout the town soon resulted in the collection of excited groups all discussing the Scott's Float toll-gate, which nobody hitherto had thought much about.¡¥¸¬¤¥¥

�¥Þ¥¥¤ì¢

�¤òö

�¤¤ðФ¥¥ÅÛ

"My lord baron," replied Edith, "I have nothing to say that can bring home guilt to the guilty, or do right to the wronged: but I will say, my lord, that what a man is to-day he will be to-morrow, unless he has some end to answer by changing. The esquire will scarcely give the word of courtesy to the most reputable vassal, and yet did he talk secretly and familiarly with John Byles—and here is one who will swear that he heard him repeat the name of my son, and then something about an arrow."¢¥¥

�२¥ª¤¥¥â

�¥¤ÀöÞÌÁ¥¤Õª¤

�¤¤ ͤ¨õæ¥

�¹ÛÞ¥¢¤¥¥¥¬¥º

�©¤È³¥°¥¤æ¥¤

�®í`­¤¬ß¤¤¤ê¥¥

�¤¤§¥¥¿¤¤¥ØÈ